Miyamoto Musashi (1954)/Duel at Ichijoji Temple (1955)/Duel at Ganryu Island (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Miyamoto Musashi (1954)/Duel at Ichijoji Temple (1955)/Duel at Ganryu Island (1956) – H. Inagaki

Also known as Samurai I, II, and III, Hiroshi Inagaki’s five-hour epic (released in three parts), tells the story of fabled samurai Musashi Miyamoto (1584-1645; played by Toshiro Mifune, of course), who progresses from headstrong youth to samurai-in-training to both wise and strong. This may be a version of Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey (it is from a novel by Eiji Yoshikawa) but undoubtedly Japanese in content and execution.  The young orphaned Musashi cannot control his strength or his emotions but after fighting in the Battle of Sekigahara (1600) and subsequently being captured by a monk (Kurôemon Onoe) and imprisoned and forced to study the way of the samurai, he emerges a more focused man.  Every woman in the film falls in love with him but he chooses to suppress his desire, even for his true love Otsu (Kaoru Yachigusa). Instead he embarks on a training mission – to test his strength against the warriors of the house of Yoshioka.  There are some nefarious and deceptive characters surrounding the head of this house, including Toji (Daisuke Katô) who seeks to use Musashi’s former benefactress and her daughter Akemi (Mariko Okada) against him.  But ultimately he prevails and with compassion.  However, he attracts the attention of a more willful but also skilful and power-hungry samurai Kojiro Sasaki (Kôji Tsuruta) who now wishes to challenge him to a duel to determine who will be the Shogun’s swordsmanship teacher.  Musashi declines, postponing the duel for a year, and heads off to be a farmer, protecting a small village from bandits, with a young boy and an old reformed scoundrel as disciples.  He grows in wisdom but he faces two final challenges:  the acceptance of love from Otsu and the ultimate dule with Sasaki.  I’ve omitted numerous minor characters and a few subplots from this description but suffice it to say that the end result is epic indeed.  Of course, it feels a bit bombastic as the epic Westerns of the 1950s also feel – but it is also stunning in its beauty (in Eastmancolor, but sadly not widescreen format).  Duels take place at sunset or in silhouette.  The characters and objects are laid out in harmony across the screen. The colors of the sky, the ground, the water, are subtle (if occasionally artificial), even as the costumes may be brilliant in their hues.  Mifune handles the role with his usual aplomb (and the occasional familiar mannerism from his Kurosawa films).  Although bushido (the code of the samurai) is at the heart of the film, we don’t actually learn much about it – instead, this is a drama of the heart and the sword, leaving history and philosophy behind.  Inagaki manages it all well, though one wonders how it would have looked with Kurosawa at the helm.  Less stately, more dynamic perhaps?  That said, I was fully absorbed by the beauty and spectacle on offer here.   

The Killing (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Killing (1956) – S. Kubrick

Taut heist picture that sees Sterling Hayden get together an assortment of crooks (and amateurs) with varying motives to rob the racetrack on the day of the big race.  Kubrick is already a master of his craft (in his third feature) and the film is expertly paced and directed, despite a non-linear plot that bounces back and forth from the day of the heist to the earlier planning and positioning (for each character separately) to the final consequences and denouement (a major influence on Tarantino, among others).  The dramatic music by Gerald Fried adds a lot to the tension; the voiceover narration (which Kubrick disliked) makes this fit the documentary noir style.  Much of the focus of the plot is on Elisha Cook Jr (who works a counter at the track, paying off the winning bets) and his wife Marie Windsor, a floozy only with him because she thought he had dough (and currently two-timing him with Vince Edwards who wants to muscle in on the heist). Their actions add stress. Scary/weird character actor Timothy Carey makes an excellent stylized sniper.  The plans by the gang are worked out like clockwork but, of course, everything eventually comes unstuck (crime doesn’t pay in films like these).   The final shot at the airport cements the collapse.  And it’s all over in less than 90 minutes.  Superb.

Early Spring (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 

Early Spring (1956) – Y. Ozu

Yasujirô Ozu offers a negative view of the salaryman’s life in 1950s Tokyo, following a young man (Ryô Ikebe) who is stuck in a daily routine with little promise of change.  Even his mentors remark “I hate my job” (Chishû Ryû, whose character has been transferred to distant Lake Biwa) or quit to run a coffee shop instead (Sô Yamamura).  His peers mostly distract themselves with mah-jong in the evenings and outings on the weekends and gossip about each other.  Most are married, as is Ikebe’s character, but he seems to be going through the routine at home too.  His wife (Chikage Awashima) is unsatisfied too and spends most of her time confiding in her mother or best friend, who offer different responses.  When Ikebe is targeted romantically by a flirtatious woman in his circle, nicknamed Goldfish (Keiko Kishi), he gives in and then regrets it.  However, it is impossible to hide from his wife.  Then each character reflects on how this affects the marriage.  Although atypically glum for Ozu, who usually keeps a moderate level of existential awe in even his saddest features (e.g., Tokyo Story, 1953), the film remains as absorbing as all of his best work.  Somehow the characters draw you in with their complex feelings and predicaments – as usual, they speak directly to the camera while Ozu uses unusual shot-reverse shot configurations during conversations.  This might heighten our involvement psychologically. Or perhaps it is Ozu’s focus on family relationships and the predicaments of the lower and middle class (typical of the shomin-geki genre) that makes his films feel relevant. Finally, even if you don’t feel sympathy for the central protagonist, Ozu’s expertise is such that he makes you feel the humanity of the situation from every perspective and allows us hope for the future.

Patterns (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Patterns (1956) – F. Cook

Film version of Rod Serling’s Emmy-winning teleplay targeting the cutthroat world of business and the moral lapses of those at the top (or the lapses necessary to get to the top).  Also known as “Patterns of Power”, as in “behavioural patterns”, we are treated to the machinations that CEO Walter Ramsey (Everett Sloan) goes through in order to force Bill Briggs (Ed Begley Sr.) to resign as Vice President. You see, Briggs is too humane, carrying about people and not just profits, and Ramsey is not.  We follow Fred Staples (Van Heflin) who is brought in from Ohio to the New York City headquarters as he discovers that he is meant to replace Briggs, even though Briggs has not left. This puts Staples into a moral quandary which he tries to solve by befriending Briggs and giving him credit at every opportunity, especially with the boss (although he does catch himself damning Briggs with faint praise at times).  When Ramsey eventually hounds Briggs to the point of nervous breakdown, Staples tries to take a stand but finds himself agreeing to take over as Vice President, telling Ramsey he’ll always speak truth to power.  Since this is Serling, we can’t exactly take Staples at face value; we wonder whether it is even possible not to be influenced by money and power, not to lose one’s focus on people when profits are at stake, not to play politics with coworkers’ lives.  Powerhouse acting by all concerned (particularly Begley) and a sharp script keep things tense and biting, never didactic.  Still relevant today.

Sudden Rain (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Sudden Rain (1956) – M. Naruse

I’m a sucker for these Mikio Naruse dramas (or sometimes melodramas) where Japanese people talk incessantly and relationships are carefully observed.  I find them somehow relaxing.  Often Naruse focuses on women and their attitudes toward each other (or toward the men in their lives); in that regard, he aims for us to identify with the great Setsuko Hara (who died last year at 95) here. She is a patient housewife, managing things for herself and her husband (married four years), but denying her own needs and interests (in true Japanese female fashion).  I read somewhere too that Naruse films tend to fixate on money problems and Sudden Rain is no exception.  The pivotal event that tips the couple from “kentaiki” (relationship fatigue) into distress is the threat of lay-off for the husband from the cosmetics company where he is a salesman.  Actually, he has to choose between resigning with a 100,000 yen bonus (a vast sum in 1950s Japan) or staying on with the risk of getting laid off with no bonus.  He contemplates moving back to the small village where he grew up, something which he knows his wife would not want to do.  As is typical for Naruse, there is no clear resolution of the issues but, at the film’s end, the couple seems resigned to continuing as they are.

I couldn't find a clip of the film, so here's a quick tribute to Setsuko Hara:

  

Forbidden Planet (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Forbidden Planet (1956) – F. Wilcox

I thought I had seen this before, but apparently not since my memories were in black and white and this is in amazing color (lots of contrasting reds and greens). A bunch of astronauts in the future land on a planet where a man and his daughter have been castaways (think The Tempest). They are attacked by a mysterious force (which is animated with assistance from Disney in one great scene). The Freudian and Shakespearean undertones provide heft to an otherwise B-movie set-up.

  

Elena and Her Men (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Elena and Her Men (1956) – J. Renoir

Delirious chaos surrounds Ingrid Bergman as she uses her erotic wiles to convince a popular general to let people power support him in a coup d'etat. Renoir echoes his own Rules of the Game (although this is a trifle or a truffle compared to that). Every scene seems to contain people crashing into each other and the state of madness reminded me of Preston Sturges. But in the end, this is definitely French and true love wins out over all.

Aparajito (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Aparajito (1956) – S. Ray

Satyajit Ray's sequel to Pather Panchali finds Apu growing from a small boy to a young man. Ready for independence and adventure, Apu abandons his mother for Calcutta and studies, leaving her lonely and weak. Close-ups (and Ravi Shankar's lilting score) heighten the emotion. The film ends abruptly, as Apu departs after another life transition.

Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956) – R. Wise

Robert Wise has a lot to answer for – after all, he is responsible for editing The Magnificent Ambersons when it was taken away from Orson Welles (there is also The Sound of Music).  But he does know how to craft a film – something he may have learned when he was part of Val Lewton’s stable of directors doing low budget but effective horror films in the ‘40’s.  You can see this craft in films like Odds Against Tomorrow or The Haunting…and in this film which is based on boxer Rocky Graziano’s autobiography (with a screenplay by Ernest “North by Northwest” Lehman).  Paul Newman is young and hungry as Rocky – and once you get used to his cruddy Brooklyn accent, his performance is electrifying.  Method acting probably but it works and everything hangs together just right.  Wise creates a good sense of time and place and, although predictable, the story is punchy and compelling.  You can see how this may have influenced Scorsese’s Raging Bull. Won an Oscar for B&W cinematography and it shows.

The Burmese Harp (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Burmese Harp (1956) – K. Ichikawa

Often moving tale of a Japanese regiment at the end of WWII that surrenders to the British in Burma.  This company is different because of their fondness for singing (often “Home Sweet Home” in Japanese, which is used for sentimental purposes but still evokes wistfulness).  One of their number, Mizushima, is nominated to encourage another Japanese platoon, holed up in a mountain fortress, to finally surrender – however, they disbelieve that the war is over and are killed by the Brits.  Mizushima himself is injured but resuscitated back to life by a Buddhist monk.  Mizushima steals this monk’s garb to make the journey back to join his regiment but the horrors that he sees (scores of unburied bodies) and remembers lead him to take a vow to stay in Burma as a real monk to make certain that all the bodies are buried.  His old squad members cannot understand. Ichikawa makes excellent use of location shooting in Burma, often showing his characters nearly hidden in the landscape (suggesting the enormity of the situation in which they are engulfed).  Some say this film ignored the real war crimes committed in Burma but it is assuredly pacifist and anti-war.

A Wife's Heart (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

A Wife's Heart (1956) -- M. Naruse

I think one reason why Naruse's films are so compelling is that you just don't know how they are going to end.  Hollywood melodramas were guaranteed to conclude on a happy note (even if it sometimes rang false). However, Naruse could go either way, often spiralling downward into a melancholy landing, but very occasionally offering a glimmer of hope.  In A Wife's Heart, we share Hideko Takamine's point of view as she and her husband plan to build a café next to the family grocery store.  However, her mother-in-law is against it, her older brother-in-law begs for their money, and her husband starts staying out late nights avoiding the situation.  What will she do? Toshiro Mifune plays an attractive bachelor who offers some alternate possibilities.

The Wrong Man (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Wrong Man (1956) -- A. Hitchcock

Is this Hitchcock's first horror film? Henry Fonda is accused of a crime he didn't commit and, following cinematic trends of the time, goes through all the dignity-reducing processes of our legal system in neorealist fashion. Well, not exactly, because Hitchcock can't resist some expressionistic touches. Although you can sense Hitch's real fear of the police, it is hard to know whether he sees the power of Fonda's belief in God as literally as he seems to. Pretty grim throughout, especially as we see the effects on Fonda's family (Vera Miles, particularly).