Thursday, January 19, 2012

"Life is harder than death."

When one thinks of World War II there are definitely a few things that come to mind.  Pearl Harbor, The Jewish Genocide, The Atomic Bomb and of course all of the aftermath leading into the Cold War.  A not often talked about atrocity is the Japanese Invasion of Nanking, known also as The Rape of Nanking.  It was an act of total warfare upon the Chinese Capital, which claimed upwards of 300,000 Chinese military and civilian casualties and resulted in the trials and executions of Gen. Iwane Matsui, Gen. Hisao Tani and foreign minister Hirota Koki (Nanking Massacre. wikipedia.org) while the more sadistic perpetrator Prince Yasuhiko Asaka was granted immunity from the military tribunal due to a pact between Gen. MacArthur and Emperor Hirohito.

There are many idea's surrounding what happened and why, but the fact remains that it is an atrocity seldom talked about on western shores.  Although, this is not for lack of trying.  Frank Capra made a documentary film in 1944 called The Battle of China which included graphic footage of Nanking and several other areas, but death toll numbers were mere estimates (and they were low at that).  There are also a few mid 90s Hong Kong films about the incident, but again, only one of those is available to western audiences.  However, it seems that recently western eyes have been getting more interested in the incident.  Partially due to the story of John Rabe and the westerners who remained in Nanking and established a safe zone for civilians and refugees.  Western Eyes look at these more romantic hero stories which give a kind of Hollywood glossed feel.  Regardless of these sentiments, not many films show just how brutal the incident allegedly was.  I say allegedly because it is still a huge point of contention between Japan and China, and the true death toll number has not been technically found, although most historians seem to agree on 250,000-300,000.

All films have bias and it is no surprise what the bias is going to be of a film made in the country which suffered.  That being said, I still found myself moved, to tears a few times, by Lu Chuan's recent Black and White film, City of Life and Death.
I missed the film on it's VERY limited run at the Nuart Theater and was surprised on "internet blackout/protest day" to find that it had been recently added to Netflix Streaming.  The film is a beautiful example of 35mm black and white cinematography.  It starts at the end of the Japanese siege and with the capture of the city and moves through the documented history from there.  Scenes of warfare and brutality are not far off, including mass executions of KMT and National Army troops as well as civilian casualties.

While most of the characters appear to be documented there are always aspects that have to be viewed from the lens of fiction.  The key theme of the story is the weight of war.  The Genocide committed by the Japanese troops acting on the orders of a few incredibly atrocious leaders resulted in an open wound for the past 70 years which still has not closed.
While I very much liked this film, I will admit that there was a certain formula that I found a bit displacing.  Whether it was at the behest of the censors or an artistic choice is unknown to me (I have not seen Chuan's other works), but there were moments where the characters made "noble sacrifices" which were played up a bit much for my taste.  I'm not a nationalistic person and I don't feel any pride when I see someone standing head held high to walk to their death.  I do not see the unbeaten spirit of the martyr, I merely see a man walking to inevitable, pointless, death.

Wikipedia had this to say about the censorship process of the film:
The film endured a lengthy period undergoing analysis by Chinese censors, waiting six months for script approval, and another six months for approval of the finished film.[4] It was finally approved for release on April 22, 2009.[5] However, the Film Bureau did require some minor edits and cuts, including a scene of a Japanese officer beheading a prisoner, a scene of a woman being tied down prior to being raped, and an interrogation scene of a Chinese soldier and a Japanese commander.[4] 
Sure enough, rape is a common depiction in this film.  However, it is not depicted for the mere shock of depiction but as a historical recognition of what happened.  There is documentation, via diaries, photographs, and films made by the Safety Zone committee, suggesting that perhaps 1000 instances of rape occurred on a nightly basis.  In one instance, the Japanese Army demands 100 women for use as pleasure women for Japanese soldiers at the threat of extermination of the camp.  It's harrowing, tragic, and downright depressing to see, but it happened none-the-less and if anything enhances the power of the film.
The most interesting, and perhaps most redeeming, aspect of the film is the Japanese character of Kadokawa.  Kadokawa is akin to the conscience of humanity in the film.  Through him we see the effects of brutality and suffering that comes from such unrestrained activity.  He is the most profoundly affected of the Japanese and we see that he feels absolutely wrong about what is happening.  He's a representation of the the duality of man, the idea that good and evil rest hand in hand.  Ultimately crushed by the weight of war and the weight of what he has witnessed it is his line, "Life is harder than death" upon which the film ultimately makes it statement audibly.  Death is easy; it's living with the understanding that what one has witnessed or how one has acted was grievously wrong that is next to impossible.  This is the weight of war.

Chuan received death threats for his sympathetic portrayal of Kadokawa, just for showing the idea that a Japanese soldier could feel wrong about what happened and feel the need to take action, no matter how small that action may have been.  Available on Netflix, I highly recommend this one.  A beautiful, brutal, emotionally powerful film.

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