Nackt und verdammt

Reviews of a Seijun Suzuki film tend to be dominated by discourse on the director's much-vaunted iconoclastic stylistics and Nikkatsu failure of vision in their treatment of him. While Suzuki's arrhythmic editing, bold use of effects, slow-motion, and emotive performances differentiate the film from the generic fare of the time, there is as much miss as hit regarding enhancement of narrative in Suzuki's helming.

Story of a Prostitute is about Harumi, a working girl cruelly dumped by her lover who takes vengeance by throwing herself into the grueling world of the so-called 'comfort women' servicing the Imperial Army in China. There she meets Mikami, an unreformed nationalist, and their ill-fated love plays out against a backdrop of WWII endgame.

Harumi is certainly a force, and her power, drive extremes of agony and ecstasy give her a powerful on-screen presence. She wails, uncontrollably, in close-up, a slow-motion shot no less, and the raw anguish is viscerally present. The fact that the situation she and Mikami find themselves in is hopeless drains the film of dramatic tension. The compensation is keenly observed characters who comment on their situation without finger-wagging. The absurdity of Japan's war effort is best captured by Ono, a deserter who takes up with the Chinese and preaches the 'dishonorable' credo that it is better to live. Officers spout that it is more dignified to die in battle for the Emperor, the irony being these are words spoken while sprawled drunk on the floor of a brothel. A Chinese prostitute whines that she is paid less than her Japanese counterparts. Soldiers drink, fornicate and hope they can make it to the next day. The landscape is almost lunar, begging the question of what, exactly, they are fighting for possession of.

The futility of war is an expertly painted background, but overshadowed by the melodramas of lives lived. Without Suzuki's unconventional approach this film would be quickly forgotten, but the camera movement, stark sets revealed in deep focus, and humanity and absurdity of the minor characters keeps this film fresh. Harumi is the embodiment of the will to live, if not exactly to live well. Having said that, the histrionics begin to grate after a while, and a stronger plot would raise this film to greater heights.

Neither a B-film nor a masterpiece, but simply another watchable outing from a unique filmmaker.

Seijun Suzuki's portrayal of Taijiro Tamura's, "Shunpu den" articulates Tamura's philosophical notion that "nikutai koto ha subete da" (the body is all there is). Harumi attempts to flee the despair of her situation as a comfort woman in Manchuria by rejecting the ideological and the transcendental; notions that bind her future lover Mikami. Mikami, a solider for the Imperial Japanese army, despite his love of philosophy and ideas (in a time when outside thought was strictly forbidden), is bound by nationalistic virtues of honor and duty; virtues essential to the foundation of the Imperial Japanese ideologies kokutai (national polity) and tennosei (the emperor system).

Harumi, who wants to, "throw herself against as many bodies as possible", finds that she can only know others through the physical sensations of the body: physical pleasure, touch, and sex. Although she falls in love with Mikami, she is outraged by his devotion to the Imperial Will, which appears hypocritical. Consequently, this hypocrisy proves fatal for Mikami.

In the spirit of Tamura's philosophy, we are left with the notion that there is no honor in dying; that only in the struggles of life can one derive honor, and that nothing is more important than continuing one's existence.

"Why did they only bring back the machine gun, leaving him there?" "Because the machine gun is the Emperor's property."

What starts as a "story of a prostitute," one steeped in troubling historical revisionism and bits of fantasy, eventually transforms into a critique of the Japanese army's code of honor during WWII, a brilliant little Trojan horse of a maneuver from Seijun Suzuki. He also shows a real flair with quick editing and simple video effects, the sound design is haunting and practically channels the collective national guilt from these years, and Yumiko Nogawa delivers an absolute powerhouse of a performance. She plays a prostitute at an army camp out on the barren landscape in China, one who a high-ranking Adjutant takes a liking to in his brutal way, and who in turn falls for his aide.

The depiction of the use of "comfort women" by the Japanese army is far from enlightened, which is off-putting to say the least early on. The elephant in the room of course is that here they are almost all Japanese and present voluntarily, not women across other Asian countries forced into sexual slavery, as hundreds of thousands were. We see one prostitute who we can infer is Chinese, but her only hardship is that she's usually paid less than the others. I was on edge and all set to rip this film to shreds because of this (and could certainly understand why someone else might still go ahead and do that), despite it being a very touchy subject to this day in Japan, much less in 1965, probably making it hard to do more as a filmmaker.

Don't expect realism in how the prostitution itself is depicted either. Early on we hear soldiers yukking it up over 13 prostitutes serving the sexual needs of an entire battalion, and know it's going to be a bumpy ride. The prostitutes are all looking to get married, with the main character saying "I want to meet many different men." The Adjutant, despite being a complete brute, is apparently good in bed, as we see her look of rapture mixed with guilt as he goes down on her, and another prostitute testifies to his sexual prowess. Talk about male fantasy. Meanwhile when she gets round to seducing the aide, her eyes are full of adoration after their first time together, which is a contrasting fantasy, to make a woman's heart feel so strongly.

Despite all that, where the film then goes with the story is a critique of militarism and the rigid honor code of the day. It highlights the ridiculous unfairness of the soldier's code of conduct that expected death before capture, and barring that, suicide, and barring that, a court-martial and execution (if they escape, that is). It's a fantastic moment when a few soldiers refuse to shoot another in this predicament, amidst the outset of an enemy attack and the swirling winds. The inversion in the observation from one of the prostitutes that "Living is difficult, dying is cowardly" is too. Through the intellectual character Uno, a guy who just wants to read his philosophy books, the film also criticizes both the invasion of "vast" China to begin with, as well as a country that would prohibit its citizens from freedom of thought ("To the country that doesn't allow an Ideal, farewell").

Suzuki isn't overly showy with his effects, but this film has quite a lot of style, something I liked about it. We see moments of character's imagining things, like when the main character fantasizes someone walking in on her and the aide and having his body fracture apart like a torn photograph. He gives us slow motion effects to intensify feeling, and that fantastic dash out onto the battlefield that leads to moments where all the sound stops.

If for nothing else though, watch this for Nogawa's passionate performance. It's crazy to think she doesn't have a deeper filmography after seeing this. She shows incredible range, with her fierce eyes expressing such defiance in that scene where she vows "You watch. I'll make your power go to shreds." The look of vulnerability she gives over her shoulder in front of a mirror after the Adjutant has followed informing her of devastating news with a demand that she bring him sake is also brilliant, and there are many others.

Probably a controversial film, but I ended up liking it.

"Sunpu Den" is a film from director Seijun Suzuki is both anti-war and anti-prostitution, as it paints a bleak story of a young woman, Harumi. The story begins with Harumi being dumped by her boyfriend. In reaction, she volunteers to be a 'comfort woman' on the Japanese front lines in China. The comfort women were prostitutes provided by the government for the troops--and this small group of women are to satisfy the sexual needs of a thousand men! To make things worse, the Adjutant in charge is a brutal jerk who mistreats the women. Harumi hates him, though she later falls in love with this man's assistant. What happens next is a tragic waste of life and is an indictment of the Japanese war machine.

This is what you might call a 'feel-bad movie'. It is meant to be sad and awful and it is. The film is compelling viewing but isn't nearly as good as other Japanese anti-war films like "Burmese Harp" or "Fires on the Plain". Very good but not great.

Presumably one of the "movies that didn't make sense" that led Nikkatsu Studios to promptly fire Suzuki after BRANDED TO KILL, in the process turning him into an icon of artistic defiance that inspired may, STORY OF A PROSTITUTE is at the same time a war melodrama, a rather conventional love story that you could see come out from Hollywood in the 50's, but also a Seijun Suzuki film. A genre director who slaved away from b-movie to b-movie working from scripts that had little difference from one to the next, Suzuki developed, out of artistic frustration with the trappings of cookie cutter studio film-making, an irreverent visual grammar which existed for its own pleasure. In his own way, perhaps unwittingly, he was making New Wave before most.

Here we find both facets of his work, a crowdpleasing genre film and a sumptuous celebration of a visual cinema.

But unlike stuff like TOKYO DRIFTER, or indeed Branded to Kill, films that often appeared to be little more than empty exercises in stylish bravura where the only reward possible for the viewer was a confirmation of Suzuki's bold, audacious approach, Story has a dramatic heart. The director approaches the love story between Mirakami, an orderly to an abusive adjutant who is brainwashed to docile acceptance of military authority, and Harumi, a passionate prostitute working a Japanese camp somewhere in Manchuria in the days of WWII, with sincerity and honesty.

In the same time he punctuates the main plot with set-pieces that truly dazzle with their inventiveness. Harumi running through a shellshocked battlefield to an injured Mirakami; Harumi's fantasy of Mirakami rushing in slow-motion through a white-washed scene to save her from the abusive officer. All this filmed in stark black and white, with fast tracking shots around walls and behind wooden panels, beautiful exterior shots of Manchurian landscapes which dwarf the figures walking them, intricate framing in depth and poignant symbolic touches that give an almost existential air to proceedings.