Silent Japan V: Who is Mikio Naruse?

The first two Japanese silent films I have watched - Flunky, Word Hard and Apart from You - were both directed by Mikio Naruse, so as part of my exploration of early Japanese cinema it seemed a good idea to find out exactly who that guy is and what sort of films he made. What is his position in the history of Japanese film?

Naruse was born in Tokyo in 1905. He was by accounts a shy, reserved young man who scored a job at the newly formed Shockiku film studios as a property manager and then as an assistant director. After much begging for the chance, Naruse was finally granted the right to direct a film of his own in 1930 (aged 25). His first film was Mr and Mrs Swordplay (Chambara Fufu). Despite obvious skill and talent, Naruse's films were not commercially successful and he struggled to secure directorial assignments at Shockiku. He ultimately jumped studios to PCL (later named Toho), where he continued to direct up into the mid-1960s.

For Western audiences, the first exposure to Naruse's work was his critical hit Wife, Be Like a Rose, which was released in the USA in 1935. It was particularly liked by American critics but it was, however, the first Japanese 'talkie' to be screened internationally. Western audiences may have later embraced Mizoguchi, Ozu and Kurosawa, but they were exposed to Naruse first.

Silent Japan IV: Apart from You (1933)

For my second Japanese silent film, I figured I would stick with Mikio Naruse and watch one of his more dramatic works. Apart from You was released by Shokiku Films in 1933, and is a full-length feature with a much more serious tone than the light playfulness of Flunky, Work Hard.

Kikue is a middle-aged woman who works as a geisha to support her teenage son Yoshio. Yoshio in turn resents his mother for what he sees as a disgraceful profession, and he rebels by getting drunk, dismissing her affection and joining a local street gang. Terugiko is a young geisha who works with Kikue, and forms a tentative friendship with Yoshio while harbouring a deep resentment against her parents for forcing her into her profession. Apart from You follows these three character relationships in a solid and mature melodrama. It's not perfect, but it's outstanding how watchable it is after 80 years.

Silent Japan III: Flunky, Work Hard (1931)

While there's a lot more to explore in terms of the history and cultural context of Japanese silent films, I figured it would be worth diving in and actually watching one. For my first viewing experience I selected Flunky, Work Hard (1931), the earliest existing film by director Mikio Naruse (or Naruse Mikio, to use the Japanese format). This short feature (it's only 28 minutes long) follows a day in the life of harried insurance salesman Okabe and his tearaway bully of a son.

This is a surprisingly modern and genuinely funny little comedy. The performances are generally naturalistic, and the humour much more sophisticated than the broad slapstick you'd normally find in a silent comedy. It also has much more developed camerawork, including smooth tracking shots, interesting shot compositions and a few experimental moments. There is a moment late in the film where Okabe discovers his unruly son has been hit by a train. His moment of sudden panic and grief at the news is represented with a sudden 20-second montage of shapes, faces and kaleidoscopic effects. The montage runs at about one shot per second, which is a much faster editing speed than you'd expect from a film made at the start of the 1930s.

Silent Japan II: The Lack of Realism

The Water Magician (1931, d. Kenji Mizoguchi)

Before diving into some Japanese silent films, I think it’s important to understand the enormous differences between Japanese and French and American culture at the turn of the 20th century. Cinema as we know it is a French invention, developed by the Lumiere brothers and toured around the world by their father from 1895 at sideshows and expositions. While there were motion pictures prior to that year – going all the way back to the invention of the pinhole camera in the early 11th century – it was the Lumieres who developed a system of taking a sequence of photographs in rapid succession and then projecting those photographs in similarly rapid succession for an audience.

Motion pictures were, in essence, a progression of photography. That technology was also developed in France, with Joseph Nicéphore Niépce and Louis Daguerre’s invention of the daguerreotype in 1822. Over the course of the 19th century, the technology and materials used to create the photograph were developed and refined, and ultimately led to a popular and accurate method of reproducing images of family, significant events and the world at large. Photography was a great saviour for fine art, since up to the point of its invention there had been a general and centuries-long push within Europe towards a realistic mode of painting. Once the photograph perfected the realist reproduction artists was free to explore non-realist forms of art. Put all of these successive inventions into order, and you can see a slow, inevitable movement from the Middle Ages through to the late 19th century away from abstract expression to realistic reproduction.

Now consider Japan.

Silent Japan I: The One Per-Cent

Tokyo Chorus (1931, d. Yasujiro Ozu)

I have decided to watch some Japanese silent films. Exploring the earliest motion pictures of any country is relatively difficult. They were printed using nitrate-based film stock, which was not only highly perishable but also highly flammable – so much so that an old nitrate film sealed in a canister for long enough can, at sufficient temperatures, spontaneously and explosively combust. Being a projectionist used to be a considerably more dangerous job than it is today.

The generally received wisdom is that approximately 75 per cent of all silent films produced in the early decades of cinema have been lost forever. There are two primary reasons for this. The first is simply the perishable nature of nitrate film and the age of the motion pictures in question. The second is lack of care, plain and simple, combined with a general failure to appreciate the value of those early films.