Ikiru Film Review - By Izzy Sieveking

​Never destined for true Americanization, Japanese films blossomed in their 1950s 'Golden Age'. Whilst growth for the cinephile is appreciating that Bollywood is just as profitable as its American counterpoint, learning about Nollywood (Nigeria's answer), or visiting movements like the French New Wave when you've grown up on a diet of mainstream fare, the likes of Studio Ghibli and Tokyo's October-November film festival has put Japanese cinema on the global film industry pedestal. But what of the lost era of cinema? Of all the films we've screened so far, none better capture an iconic performance, cinematography or message than September's first choice, Japanese director Akira Kurosawa's Ikiru (1952).

From the retrospective 4/4 stars of Roger Ebert, a New York Times review in 1960 (only eight years later did Ikiru enjoy an American release) that almost granted it title of 'the best' in a run of major post-war Japanese films; to BFI's Matthew Thrift arguing that 1950s Japan was "the greatest single decade for a national cinema" (2015), critics have been unified by Ikiru for over 70 years. Kurosawa was heralded for his samurai films, with 1950's Roshomon questioning the various testimonies of a dual murder-rape (in Ikiru, it is thankfully the differing perspectives of Wantanbe's morality by his acquaintances) and 1954's Seven Samurai, inspiring the battle scenes of the Western film. As in 1948's Drunken Angel, Ikiru is faithful towards the Japanese gendaigeki genre (contemporary dramas), whereas his later works in the 50's, the jidaigeki (period dramas) might explain the derision of other filmmakers towards his adopting western film aesthetics of spectacle and colour. Refused funding by Japanese production companies yet wanting to control much of the filmmaking process- Kurosawa was, admirably, hands on- it was inevitable that financial help from abroad would shape his work. One almost gets the sense that Kurosawa tried to appeal to too many sensibilities at once- his audience of the 50's, speaking to Japan's post-war youth; audiences in America hungry for literary adaptations, and the older Japanese demographic who finally saw their plight represented in Wantanbe.

Translated, Ikiru is 'To Live', a mission that is far more philosophical and ambiguous than the goal orientation of Classical Hollywood narratives. This is an inimitable film, although Japanese British novelist and screenwriter Kazuo Ishiguro tried in earnest with the Bill Nighy starring adaptation Living in 2022. Showing just how strong the bond between actor and director can be, Takashi Shimura acted in 21 of Kurosawa's films, Ikiru being the third. In a role that testifies to the nature of private suffering, Shimura is studious businessman Kanji Wantanbe who, unbeknownst to him, has a tumour thriving in the disconnect between his body and mind. Wantanbe's fate is open to interpretation, just the belief he will die (thanks, in no small part, to an oversharing patient in the waiting room) and the grind of Japanese bureaucracy already spelling the end. As the omnipresent narrator tells us from the start, this is a man whose been 'dead for 25 years' in his monotonous public sector job, widowed and distanced from married son Mitsuo (Nobuo Kaneko). An early character study, the audience follows Wantanbe as he tries to come to terms with his diagnosis and experience the hedonic pleasures of Tokyo city before his time is up.

Death is the great leveler, and Ikiru is open in its condemnation of how traditional Japanese values of productivity, honour and even family obscure individual meaning. "It's here rather than my stomach" Wantanbe confides as he rubs his chest, that the malaise is. The cinematography, rather than melodramatic gestures, achieves much of the film's pathos- seamlessly integrated flashbacks to his wife's funeral, with relatives urging him to remarry; a closing shot of achievement certificates hung on the wall that fades out to Wantanbe's quiet sobbing; the glass doors and curtains of the Minka (house) isolating father and son. A true innovator, Kurosawa is credited for the 'screen wipe' film technique. In Ikiru, it stands for the throwaway irresponsibility in which Wantanbe's colleagues dismiss local women lobbying for a children's playground, each point-of-view shot referring them onto another department. It's also interesting to note how Ikiru intentionally changes our perception of Wantanbe's life, with Japanese film academic Donald Richie suggesting that Kurosawa " [used] all cinematic techniques to make certain that we become absolutely convinced of this reality". Considering this, the film's second half of Wantanbe's legacy and the truths revealed takes on greater cinematic importance- even if it felt 'maundering' for that New York Times critic.

Of course, how could one forget the joint second hero of Ikiru, Wantanbe's perky female colleague Toyo (Miki Odagiri)? It's commendable that the few women in this film are autonomous, from the playground mothers helping a frail Wantanbe stand to their sincere grief next to the false pretenses of his male associates (bar one, who does speak up). However, Toyo is the embodiment of joyful living, her sentiment inspiring Wantanbe to push the playground construction through. Unsure where to spend his money, she and Wantanbe enjoy pastimes like the arcade, cinema and ice-skating. Thrift is perhaps harsh when he describes Ikiru as a "Scrooge-like awakening" because one has the sense that Wantanbe has always been kind, if ineffectual. Spotting Toyo's laddered tights, he immediately takes her to buy new ones. It's their new friendship that makes Wantanbe notice the loving couple in a restaurant, and the happiness that her new job of making white toy rabbits gives her. We also notice that she's completely absent in the film's latter half. Perhaps the grief, or the hypocrisy of her old colleagues, was too much- or she simply served her purpose in Wantanbe's story.

You might only know Ikiru from the classic film poster, that of Wantanbe peacefully swinging alone in the snow. Or, like our film programmer Luke, you're an avid Kurosawa fan and would attest to his significance in post-war cinema. Melancholic yet pure, a time capsule of Japan; we look forward to welcoming in the autumn film season with this masterpiece.

References:
Image courtesy of The Cinematheque 
Richie, Donald, 2004. 'Ikiru'. Criterion Current, originally published in The Films of Akira Kurosawa, 1996 by University California Press.
Crowther, Bosley, 1960. 'Screen: Drama Imported From Japan: 'Ikiru' Has Premiere at the Little Carnegie Shimura Stars as Petty Government Aide'.
​The New York Times. Thrift, Matthew, 2024. ' 10 great Japanese films of the 1950s', British Film Institute.