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Fan-of-Kurosawa wrote:Let's hope they keep the television interview and that they include it in another Kinoshita release.

I imagine that's the reason they cut it.

kaujot wrote:

Fan-of-Kurosawa wrote:Let's hope they keep the television interview and that they include it in another Kinoshita release.

I imagine that's the reason they cut it.

And I imagine that other film will be "Ballad of Narayama" instead of something unseen....

Twenty-Four Eyes

I haven't seen the MoC but from what I've read on that release and what I've seen on this one it doesn't sound like the Criterion is a huge improvement over the MoC. The print has plenty of scratches throughout and a few other flaws. But I thought overall it looked good.

Beaver

Going from those caps, I'd say MoC looks like a pretty clear winner, unless you fancy the Criterion extras.

I dunno....

The MoC has a lot of scratches that it seems like it is raining throughout the whole movie. Criterion seems to have a smoother image in those caps. And as Gary says, the sound is the same on both. Hmm, I always found the MoC very crackly. So I guess the Criterion is equally scratchy?

manicsounds wrote:The MoC has a lot of scratches that it seems like it is raining throughout the whole movie. Criterion seems to have a smoother image in those caps. And as Gary says, the sound is the same on both. Hmm, I always found the MoC very crackly. So I guess the Criterion is equally scratchy?

The sound on the Criterion is sort of scratchy, not great. The image is somewhat hazy, though I didn't think it was too bad. But looking at the comparisons on Beav's site the MoC is definitely sharper. The scratches are still noticeable on the Criterion, the grabs don't seem to catch them as prominently, but they are there. When watching it you still notice the scratches raining through, though they're subtle.

Really surprised seeing the comparison caps. If there's any area in which CC normally is the winner, it's sharpness, but in this case, MoC seems to be considerably ahead. This also gives me hope that the MoC "Vampyr" will not be inferior to the CC imagewise.

It would seem that Criterion made a conscious decision to soften the image in an attempt to hide the scratches. Hmm, I'm not sure that was a wise decision.

Jack Phillips wrote:It would seem that Criterion made a conscious decision to soften the image in an attempt to hide the scratches. Hmm, I'm not sure that was a wise decision.

Easy choice for me, I'll take scratches and other blemishes over softening of the image to try to mask them -- any day and every day.

What about the subtitle translation? From the example on DVD Beaver the Criterion certainly seems more detailed. The image on MOC looks much better to my eye, though (at least from Beaver's captures).

I bought both versions but I prefer the MoC sharpness above the smooth image at any time. This is a matter of choice I guess as none of them are perfect.

StevenJ0001 wrote:What about the subtitle translation? From the example on DVD Beaver the Criterion certainly seems more detailed. The image on MOC looks much better to my eye, though (at least from Beaver's captures).

I only noticed one problem on the CC:

I finally managed to see this last night (MoC version). I always went around it because normally I can't stand films in which children play a major part (and here we have 12 of them on top of it!), and also because some of the opinions voiced here and elsewhere about its manipulative and tear-jerking character didn't exactly encourage me, too. How wrong I was.

First off, I never had the feeling that this was a tear-jerker in the strict sense of the word (i.e. like "Gone with the Wind"); sure, there are a lot of tears jerked on screen, especially in the latter part of the film, but many of these moments are done in long shots, giving them a more 'objective' quality which enables us to accept that 'these things just happen and can't be helped', a general theme of the film which, as Joan Mellen points out in her excellent essay in the MoC booklet, is not necessarily the philosophy that Kinoshita wants Japanese society to follow, but which nevertheless seems to me very much at the core of what we see here. Despite of some of the children having to go away and meeting a dark future, the film by staying with Oishi on the island for the most part nevertheless ensures us of a firm, 'unchanging' basis of life and nature. The ravages of war and social dilemma are felt and made clear, of course, but still for the most part I had the feeling that the lives of those common people are ultimately celebrated. Oishi, though at first she seems like an intruder with her modern attributes (the bicycle, her clothes) is soon seamlessly integrated into the society, without having to surrender her own individuality and perhaps even successfully changing the island life to a degree. When she has to 'surrender' (being accused of communism), it is made clear that the attacks come from outside (i.e. the militarist government), not from the islanders themselves anymore.

I may be totally wrong with this, but the constant use of songs as leitmotifs, the almost invisible camera-technique (just right in every moment, but absolutely never drawing any attention to itself), the half-mythic quality the island and its people take on reminded me much more of some works by John Ford than any Kurosawa film ever did. I think of "How green was my valley", "Wagon Master" or even the much maligned "Tobacco Road" here, totally different films of course, though perhaps sharing a similar respect and love for the 'simple life'. In this respect, though its a prime example of the 'hard lives of common people on an island"-genre, "Twenty-Four Eyes" has a totally different outlook than, say, "La terra trema", which is far more 'hard-edged'.

Anyway, I think it's a surprisingly complex and multi-faceted film which far exceeded my expectations. Loved every minute of it, really. And never even had to shed a tear.

I finally dug this out of the keyvip and popped it in the DVD player. I was not impressed.

The first complaint has to be with the "twenty-four eyes." The film might as well have been called Two Eyes because the only pair that matter are Oishi's, as the teacher. The children are completely interchangeable, only differentiated by the suffering that Kinoshita decides to inflict upon them.

Opportunities to show the children's individuality are squandered. The filmmaker preferred to show the group walking about the island and having collective sing-a-longs. It's more than ironic that a film purportedly against militarism and nationalism finds its sentimentality in groupthink marches and songs.

The lack of characterization wouldn't be so important if the film didn't implore us to cry as Kinoshita later piles misery after misery onto these ciphers. Also, personally, I made special effort to distinguish each person's name. I assumed it was important because Kinoshita not only has the teacher/student introduction scene, but also flashes back to each student's introduction over text of their names.

Speaking of text, much of the story is told with it. And if not by text, then by dialogue. The dictum of "Show; Don't Tell" clearly passed Kinoshita by. The names of the characters (specifically the soldiers) are literally plastered onto them by the end. We find out which characters died in the war by reading it on the headstones. The majority of the information, particularly regarding the fate of the students, is given in dialogue.

All of this is done to focus on Oishi, who walks from location to location, so she can bawl her eyes out in the third Act. One would assume that because much attention is paid to Oishi that we could gain a better understanding into her world. We could potentially see how this has affected her, especially when she meets a man, gains a husband, and bears children. Again, the events are glossed over. With an amount of meaningless songs comparable to a musical, Kinoshita displays a complete lack of understanding as to what actually matters in the narrative of this woman's life.

Among her numerous reasons to cry, perhaps the most blatant example of superfluity is when...

Spoiler

Oishi's newly introduced daughter falls out of a tree. The girl has been in maybe two other scenes as a minor character. She's introduced for the sole purpose of dying. Then we learn, again, through expository dialogue that there is no money and no food. Thus, clearly the daughter was climbing up a tree to retrieve edible fruit. It raises the question why we weren't shown the poverty or hunger Oishi's family has been through.

Nonetheless, the key missing factor for the success of a melodrama is proper characterization. Twenty-Four Eyes simply doesn't provide it, thus removing the possibility for empathy. The students, the children, even Oishi's biological children are interchangeable. Oishi, herself, is an interesting character with a solid performance, but Kinoshita shows poor judgment in deciding what parts of her life are worth showing. Most times, he'd rather break into song.

I have to agree that this is not a great film, or at least I find it cloying and mind-numbingly repetitive, but I think the film is very interesting in spite of its flaws. If you gloss over any concerns about realism of the character depictions, the realism of the setting stands in stark contrast to the films of Kurosawa, Ozu, etc., and offers us a rare glimpse of the Inland Sea of the time. The landscape photography alone makes the film worth watching, and there's a lot more to it beyond that. There are many ways he could have chosen to film this novel, and on-location in Shodoshima is definitely not the easy route.

Just watch the first few minutes of this scene without any sound, and if you don't see what I mean, then I'll agree that the film might not have anything to offer you:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_krNWwMv_60" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

My knowledge of pre-60s Japanese cinema is nowhere near where it should be, but I don't know of any other film that looks anything like that at least until The Naked Island (speaking of a difficult film to connect with).

I think your criticisms of Kinoshita's heavy reliance on dialogue are spot-on, but I think you're reading too much into the film wrt individuality vs. nationalism. I think that dichotomy is a particularly American one, or at least not a Japanese one, and also that you're conflating national identity with the group identity that Kinoshita is creating without really explaining why. AFAICT, for Kinoshita this group identity exists very much in opposition to the overpowering national identity that was sweeping the country, and this group identity is important because these characters are very much left out of that national narrative that was being created at the time. That nationalism tends to involve a lot of singing and walking/marching doesn't (to me) mean that those activities in a film imply nationalism, and while the film doesn't do a great job of fleshing out individual characters in subtle detail it doesn't really imply any suppressed individuality either (and what we find out about the characters later would seem to contradict any such intentions). So I don't see any irony about the film's (heavyhanded) opposition to militarism and nationalism, at least in what you describe.

I think you were right to assume that the student's names and individual identities were meant to be important, it's just that Kinoshita was less than successful at creating the twelve individual narrative threads, and that makes the sentimentality a bit mystifying and hard to be drawn into. Perhaps it would have been easier for an audience of the time, but I was like you a little bit lost on that part.

I think there are a lot of reasons to come back to this film, but the enjoyable storyline, deep character development, riveting performances, and refined, concise filmmaking style are not among those reasons for me.

FWIW n-- Early post-war Shimizu and Naruse also have some interesting location shooting. Gosho too.

Jun-Dai,

I absolutely agree with you that the clip you presented works much better as a silent film. I don't want to make it seem like the film is without any merit. The landscapes and cinematography are excellent. Great framing and beautiful vistas in the clip you linked to. The milieu is definitely interesting, but what happens in that environment is not. I just can't see myself revisiting the film.

I readily admit that I'm reading the film through the prism of my rugged American individualism. Still, the author is dead and yadda yadda, so what's left is what's on screen. It's possible that Kinoshita saw these groups as contradictory and was trying to contrast them. There's several reasons that I believe this failed though. First the sheer aesthetic value of children marching and singing in unison overrides a sense of contrast. The children are literally taught how to march in a straight line, and I can't help but associate such things with the rigidity of the State.

Second, this marching and singing (and group crying) isn't undercut in any way. It's precisely these mass activities that we are being goaded into identifying with. It's the same mentality that nationalism thrives on, relating sentimental values to a symbol of group unity. Also, your criticism of Kinoshita's repetitiveness relates to the same tactics of militarist/nationalist propaganda. Repetition. Saying things enough times that they become truth. Showing the group activities long enough that the children become an ambiguous mass of mawkish identification.

And, as we agree, this is all done to the detriment of the larger narrative. To me, that's a statement of suppressed individuality. Screen time is a luxury. Every second of singing and marching is a second not used for character. With that in mind, there is a degree of suppression, albeit more passive than active. For me, I see children in the 1920's marching and singing, and I can't help but critically assess the situation. It's like The White Ribbon without intelligence or self-awareness.

With all that said, I don't want to make it seem as if my primary critique of the film is political. After all, there's the problem of "enjoyable storyline, deep character development, riveting performances, and refined, concise filmmaking style," which you articulated quite well.

MK, it's not postwar, but I was also thinking of Arigato-san when mentioning the location shooting in 24 Eyes. Quite a bit rougher (and shakier), and not quite as inaccessible as the Setonaikai, but talk about capturing something on film that's not there anymore. It'd be interesting to follow a similar route now and compare it. Also, I need to see some postwar Shimizu, as I haven't seen any yet

GI, while it is perfectly valid to focus on the film through your prism wrt explaining what the film holds and doesn't hold for you, it's also not something Kinoshita would have been able to do anything about. While you may see overtones of nationalism in the singing, walking, etc., and a suppressed individualism, and it's entirely relevant to what the film means for you, it's not necessarily relevant to what Kinoshita was trying to portray, or what his audience would have seen in the film.

Everything you watch is inevitably going to be filtered by the context you bring to the film, but not making an effort to separate your context from the film's context is a bit like judging Wagner on the basis of the what the Nazis did with his music, or judging your great great grandparents purely by modern ethical standards. What's more, it also means that those judgements you make are going to be all the more irrelevant as the next generations make their own associations with these characteristics of the film.

Why would Kinoshita undercut the marching, singing and crying? You make it sound as though the association with nationalism is obvious, and that he should have at least tempered it, but it's sort of missing the point that I don't think there's any such association with it at all, other than in your head and in those modern American-colored glasses you bring to the film. And Kinoshita's repetition, while I find it dull, is not an attempt to drill any sort of propaganda into the minds of his audience—it's simply prolonging the moment, which was undoubtedly poignant for them, since most of them would have lived much of what he lived through and understand the kinds of issues he was bringing forth. I only find it dull because I can't connect with the characters, but in films where I do have such a connection I'm rarely bothered by it. Repetition is a double-edged sword that way.

Personally, I find that making some effort to leave my own context and understand what a film must have meant to the people it was made for part of what's so fascinating about older films. Obviously there's only so far you can take it, but to me 24 Eyes represents a real attempt to take people out of the world of their modern urban settings and studio films and show them a story about a schoolteacher in a remote part of the country that few Japanese people have seen, in the not-so-distant past. It would have been very foreign to them, and it's really another view of what happened during those years. To add in all this about marching, nationalism, and groupthink is to me to completely lose sight of what Kinoshita was creating, and the irony is that you would come up with all of that in spite of the fact that the film was really intended (and I believe generally read) as an anti-nationalist, definitely anti-fascist, and anti-military film.

Jun-Dai wrote:While you may see overtones of nationalism in the singing, walking, etc., and a suppressed individualism, and it's entirely relevant to what the film means for you, it's not necessarily relevant to what Kinoshita was trying to portray, or what his audience would have seen in the film.

This is going more into theoretical criticism, particularly the philosophic and political theory behind film. I do believe if you show a collective ritual such as marching and singing and present it in an unflinchingly sentimental way, then that does have a positive propagandist influence on the audience.

Sure, the intended audience (as opposed to me, the unintended?) would've seen that as cathartic, not through my prism of cynicism. Still, even if they view it that way, I still that's a dangerous and poor viewpoint for the film to take. Because even if they viewed it as cathartic or emotional, it still affects them in some way. In particular, the politics of replacing one group for another, rather than seeing oneself as an individual.

Everything you watch is inevitably going to be filtered by the context you bring to the film, but not making an effort to separate your context from the film's context is a bit like judging Wagner on the basis of the what the Nazis did with his music, or judging your great great grandparents purely by modern ethical standards.

Everything will be judged by my own context, and yes, everyone will bring something different. But we can still view something like Capra's Why We Fight and see it for its propaganda, regardless of how it plays for an American WWII veteran. I think it's more like judging Triumph of the Will based on the propaganda effect it had on the Nazis, which of course is an extreme example and I'm only playing off your Wagner example.

Why would Kinoshita undercut the marching, singing and crying? You make it sound as though the association with nationalism is obvious, and that he should have at least tempered it, but it's sort of missing the point that I don't think there's any such association with it at all, other than in your head and in those modern American-colored glasses you bring to the film. And Kinoshita's repetition, while I find it dull, is not an attempt to drill any sort of propaganda into the minds of his audience—it's simply prolonging the moment, which was undoubtedly poignant for them, since most of them would have lived much of what he lived through and understand the kinds of issues he was bringing forth. I only find it dull because I can't connect with the characters, but in films where I do have such a connection I'm rarely bothered by it. Repetition is a double-edged sword that way.

Emphasis mine. Attempt? No. But who cares if the author intended it? It's there in the completed film.

He should undercut it because, otherwise, his film shows no self-awareness. No cognizance of how politics works, particularly the politics that he seeks to criticize. Kinoshita made a film ostensibly criticizing nationalism, and then, in the same work, holds up the very mechanics by which nationalism and militarism work.

Anyway, the film fails (IMO, for me, and all the other qualifiers) on so many other levels, that I don't want to make my critique entirely theoretical/political. I just wanted my viewpoint clarified.

Grand Illusion wrote:This is going more into theoretical criticism, particularly the philosophic and political theory behind film. I do believe if you show a collective ritual such as marching and singing and present it in an unflinchingly sentimental way, then that does have a positive propagandist influence on the audience.

I'm a little confused. What exactly is it that you think the film is propagandizing?

Not a big fan of 24 Eyes -- but I am also very confused by the criticisms being voiced here by GI. It almost seems like a general rejection of Japanese cultural norms -- as being invalid, in some way or other.

Sorry that I'm not being clear. I'm going to try to simplify my criticism, not to "dumb it down" but just to try to clarify.

The film is ostensibly a critique on nationalism and militarism. The film glorifies, however, group singing, marching, and even group crying sessions. I would say that the values that the film promotes are, exactly, the collectivist values that provide the fertile ground for nationalism and militarism.

I'm not making a radical argument. Collectivism and the loss of individualism are required for the more extreme forms of groupthink, such as nationalism and militarism. Thus, for my argument, I would have to prove that the film promotes "collectivism and the loss of individualism."

I've already mentioned all the group activities. Further, the "twenty-four eyes" are essentially a homogeneous mass. The film spends little time differentiating each individual. Instead it repeats, like a state mantra, the same motifs of singing, walking, crying, singing, walking, crying, singing, walking, crying.

Even Oishi is a poor characterization. The film declines show the personal events of her life: marriage, birth of her child, etc. Instead she's just a reed blowing through history. This sort of Marxist view of the inevitability of history only further dehumanizes Oishi and her personal conflicts. I invoke Marxism, not to draw a left-right dichotomy, rather collectivism versus individualism.

To make it explicit, I am saying that the lack of characterization in the film denotes a lack of individuality in the world of the film.

Allow me to draw some comparisons and contrasts with other films. First, I will cite the Uncomfortable Plot Summary for V for Vendetta.

V FOR VENDETTA: Dystopian government overthrown by faceless conformity.

Terse and funny, but it perfectly epitomizes the cognitive dissonance I find in Twenty-Four Eyes. Imagine instead the quote was "Nationalism Contrasted With Faceless Conformity." This will hopefully give you an idea of where I'm coming from.

Another film I have contrasted this film with is The White Ribbon. Although people have several readings of that film, it's certainly fair to say that it examines the fertile ground that led to German fascism. Especially if you take into consideration its original title, A German Children's Story.

That film operates under the familiar theme of "remote village as state," and those children grow up to become the idealogues and soldiers of that state. In Twenty-Four Eyes, we have a very similar situation. Kinoshita, though, has none of the self-awareness that Haneke does. I do give him a little credit for the one scene where the children express their desire to be soldiers for mundane reasons. But Kinoshita doesn't follow through with the idea of the children growing up to build and strengthen a nationalist/militarist state. Rather, when the children march and chant, there is no sense of irony or foreboding. We could be watching a future Kamikaze pilot taught to march in a perfectly rigid straight line by his teacher, and the scene is sentimentalized to the fullest.

The film espouses an anti-nationalist and anti-militarist stance. What I find problematic is that, while not openly propagandistic, the film passively promotes the collectivist values that allow those politics to flourish.

In another film, perhaps I wouldn't view this as a problem. If a director blatantly sentimentalizes a group of children singing, perhaps that's not an issue. I see this as troublesome, though, when the group singing is compounded with the drilling repetition, the poor characterizations throughout, and the lack of any sense of irony towards the greater theme and historical context of the film.

This is not a forum for political dioscussion -- but would note (briefly) that localized communal soldarity can be the foundation for many national political and social manifestations. And I would suggest that recent experiences close to home suggest that excessive individualism can also lead to totalitarian governmental tendencies.

Kinoshita is not a very "sophisticated" director (artistically or philosophically). He specializes in emotional manipulation -- at which he is an expert. The basic underlying function of the film is to displace blame for the war (and accompanying suffering) on some faceless them -- and exonerate ordinary people. Yamada's Kaabee -- Our Mother is, in many ways, the polar opposite of 24 Eyes. Also sentimental, it grapples to some extent with the fact that ordinary people DID share responsibility with their leaders.

For all the film's problems, I don't think the children are nearly as undifferenttiated as you claim them to be.

Grand Illusion wrote:I'm not making a radical argument. Collectivism and the loss of individualism are required for the more extreme forms of groupthink, such as nationalism and militarism.

Your argument depends on an Ayn Randian sort of collectivist-individualist duality. I don't believe that's an effective way to view anything, much less this film, which was no doubt borne out of a fairly leftist viewpoint. I'm pretty sure Kinoshita never had any intention of creating an anti-collectivist film, so arguing that his film isn't successfully anti-collectivist is a bit of a straw man. Your position seems to boil down to the point that you can't be effectively anti-nationalist/antifascist/anti-militaristic without being anti-collectivist, which sort of negates any real possibility of a leftist critique of a rightist regime/society (which is exactly what this film is).

If I'm mischaracterizing your position in any way, please let me know. If I'm not, I'm not really sure there's any point to expanding it further, except to say that I'm a bit surprised that you'd sort of assume that I'd understand that (a) singing, marching, etc., are collectivist in nature and that (b) collectivist activities give rise to nationalism and militarism. I don't think these are generally obvious points outside of a libertarian worldview, and if it isn't already clear that I'm pretty far outside of that worldview, then I hope it's clear now

I'd love to stay and comment, but I've got to fit in my line-dancing class and a spot of karaoke before the fascist rally tonight.