Monday, November 02, 2009

Two Ballads of Narayama; One Ode to Humanity




It is inevitable that, having watched the remake(s) and the original film, one will compare and opine which he prefers. Indeed, I was able to reach such conclusion even if both versions were made by the same director- in the case of The Burmese Harp, I much prefer the 1956 version over the 1985 remake; Both were directed by Ichikawa Kon.

For Ballad of Narayama, however, I find myself in a rare position where I could not pick one over the other (in this case I watched the 1983, Imamura version first before catching the 1958, Kinoshita original).

While both versions have essentially the same storyline and plot points, the stylistic and auteuristic treatments are vastly different. Shot in colour that still looks refreshingly vibrant, Kinoshita presented the film in the form of traditional Japanese stage-play and hence shot entirely in studio. While Imasura set his characters amidst the natural mountain and as such the nature became part of the narrative- quintessential Imamura.

And because the plot points are largely similar, at each segment while watch Kinoshita version, I recollected how Imamura presented his and, by comparing and contrasting both, I was astonished at how subtle directorial adjustments could have presented scenes in vastly different ways, all the while keeping the storyline intact.

Example: After depositing Orin at Narayama, her son, Tatsuhei, was descending the mountain and ran into a fellow villager who was forcibly escorting his reluctant father to the the final destination. After some struggles, the man resorted to pushing his old folk over the edge of the mountain, conveniently saving himself the uphill journey.

In Kinoshita's version, Tatsuhei, having witnessed the act, confronted the man who murdered his father. But in Imamura's treatment, Tatsuhei simply stood idle as if he was witnessing a squabble in the marketplace.

That speaks volume about the two masters' contrasting humanistic perspectives: one of moralism vs. fatalism.

Another example: in Kinoshita's version, a flock of crows was featured prominently in the background when Tatsuhei was carrying Orin and ascending the mountain. Knowing their close association with filial piety in oriental culture and that the film was shot in studio (hence the crows could not have appeared on screen by chance), these birds were Kinoshita's props in his critical view of human conduct.

Imamura, by contrast, included lots of empty shots featuring animals in the wild-among them was that of snakes, one of his signature images in many of his movie. (digression: In Imamura final completed film- his 9-minute short film as part of the 11'09"01 project, he finally dropped all hints at suggesting the human being are no different from, say, snakes and portraying a WWII solder who actually thought he was a snake. In bizarre final scene, a snake actually spoke in human voice.)

These shots also bring out the universal-theme in Imamura's films: human being are fundamentally no different from any other species on earth. That our desires are primitive and under the camouflage of moral values is our raw animal instinct of survival that manifest itself when pushed to limit.

Though they approached their films in such contrasting ways, both films have the same profound impact on me as if they were mirrors that reflect both the compassion and fragility of humanity.

They reminded me of the verses that I came across earlier and left me pondering:

"There are so much good in the worst of us; and
There are so much bad in the best of us; that
It is unbecoming of us to judge the rest of us."