Barfuß durch die Hölle - 2. Teil: Die Straße zur Ewigkeit

A three-film saga chronicling the journey of a Japanese pacifist who continues to find his morals at crossroads with his duties to his country while trying to survive the oppressive regime & imperialist ideology of World War II-era Japan, The Human Condition is a mammoth undertaking that offers an honest observation of the uphill battle it always is for anyone trying to rise above a corrupt system and makes for an epic war drama that's grand in scope & exhaustive in narration.

The second part of the trilogy, Road to Eternity finds our protagonist now conscripted into the Japanese army after losing his exemption from military service due to his actions in the last film. Proving to be an excellent marksman with strong discipline, he bears witness to the cruelty & mistreatment from army vets and then incurs their wrath after reporting their malefactions to higher officials.

Co-written & directed by Masaki Kobayashi, there is a greater sense of danger at play here in this second chapter but at its core the plot continues to be about his struggle to stay true to his core beliefs. Facing harder challenges, physical abuse & endless punishments for slightest offences, he slowly begins to understand the difference between having ideals & acting on them by setting an example.

The story is told in two parts just like the previous entry, with the first one detailing his hardship at boot camp training and next one transporting him to the frontlines. Kobayashi also sheds critical light on the hazing culture that exists in the army in addition to corruption within the ranks itself but as before, it is Tatsuya Nakadai's committed showcase that keeps things glued together and helps us invest in the drama.

Overall, The Human Condition II: Road to Eternity may lack the steadier flow of its predecessor but it ventures into darker spaces and challenges the resilience of the human spirit by pushing our character's determination to test. The issues that plagued the first film are still here and the 3-hour runtime remains bothersome but the personal growth and better sense of right & wrong that our pacifist gains makes it a worthy sit in the end.

All filmed at once and released over a period of three years, The Human Condition is the Japanese, arthouse version of The Lord of the Rings or Manon of the Source, a single film production broken up into multiple parts for release reasons (who's gonna sit through nine-and-a-half hours at once?). The second part continues the main character's journey downward from a suited up bureaucrat in a corporate office to almost an animal by the end of this, his time in the Japanese army in Manchuria as Japan is steadily losing the overall conflict on both sides, from America at the Pacific and from the Soviet Union on the land.

Kaji (Tatsuya Nakadai) is in basic training at a remote military installation near the front against the Soviet army. He is under suspicion, meaning that he receives informal harsher treatment and won't be on the promotions list, just like Shinjo (Kei Sato), a three-year recruit that has accusations over his head that he is a communist because his brother wrote in a communist paper. The two have become friends, isolated from the rest of the unit, but Shinjo is kept busy by their commanding officer Warrant Officer Hino (Jun Tatara) to the point where they simply don't have enough time for any kind of plotting. Otherwise, Kaji is a good soldier. He's a quality marksman, and he does what he can for the struggling members of the unit, in particular Obara (Kunie Tanaka), a bespectacled young man whose wife and mother-in-law are always fighting back home.

The trials and tribulations of a Japanese soldier at the tail end of World War II are not exactly the stuff of American cinema depictions of American military basic trainings. There's a whole lot more corporal punishment meted out all of the time for the slightest of infractions. The opening scene of the film is actually the unit being awoken in the middle of the night, forced to line up, and the officer in charge slapping every single one of them because a cigarette butt was found in the drinking water. Obara was in charge before lights out, so he is blamed. Kaji comes to his defense with his own witness testimony that everything was in order when Obara was relieved, evidence that heavily implies that it was an officer patrolling around the barracks that flicked the cigarette into the water, but the officer will have none of it. Punishment will be meted out to the junior recruits with the veterans looking on from their bunks up above.

This period in basic training really is a transitional period for Kaji, between the remnants of the civilized world and the harsh wilderness and savagery of life on the battlefield, so it seems appropriate that he gets one final moment with Michiko (Michiyo Aratama), his wife, who comes to the remote training ground and is granted one night with her husband in the storehouse. Their night is his last grasp of love before he must go to the front, and it's painful. They love each other deeply, and there seems to be little hope that they'll ever meet each other again.

The recruits' graduation is a long march, and Kaji does everything he can to help the exhausted Obara to finish it. He takes half of his pack on his own back and carries Obara's rifle, but Obara still cannot finish, eventually picked up by the cart picking up the stragglers (there are three total). The veterans in the training corps, led by Yoshida (Michiro Minami) then humiliate those who couldn't finish, most particularly Obara, which sends Obara into a spiral that ends with him committing suicide. His suicide scene ends up being incredibly sad, not just because he loses hope and decides to end it all with a rifle in the latrine (echoes of this definitely end up in Full Metal Jacket), but because he fails several times and then decides that it's a sign that he should continue on before the gun suddenly goes off. It's tragic in a way, and emblematic of how hard it is to find one's humanity in a system like this.

That extends to Kaji's reaction to Obara's suicide. He wants the offending veteran punished, but the command structure will not allow it. They use a variety of excuses, from Kaji having a personal vendetta to everything being hearsay, but they will not allow the punishment of the perpetrators. Kaji can only stew in his own anger at the injustice as the Japanese military refuses to do anything about it. When the unit is moved towards the border, things gain a different character. It almost becomes wistful as a gap forms between basic training and actual combat, with the border (presumably the border with the Soviet Union) just on the horizon, with promises of freedom for the individual (said by Shinjo, communist, so...eh, it's about the promise not the reality). During an emergency, Shinjo runs towards the border, deserting, and both Kaji and Yoshida run after him with Kaji knocking Yoshida into quicksand, unable to save him. He accidentally kills someone. The humanist who threw his whole life away to save some prisoners of war accidentally kills a man.

That's the end of Part 3. A lot of events in these films, and yet because they're all so tightly focused on Kaji himself and his emotional journey, it never feels like a jumble. There are a handful of small scenes without him (between a couple of superior officers, for instance, who talk about how his guts show that Kaji should remain on the promotions list), but even those scenes outside of his view are all in service of him. Even poor Obara's suicide feeds into Kaji's overall journey (sorry, Obara, this ain't your movie).

Part 4 moves the action to near the border where the unit goes in for artillery training, led by a friend of Kaji's from the civilian world (whom we saw briefly at the start of Part 1), Kageyama (Keiji Sada). Kaji gets the ranking of Private First Class and is put in charge of the barracks, giving him a chance to implement his humanist labor policies one more time, focusing on his fellow rookies. It all falls apart again in relatively the same fashion with human nature from outside the small group putting pressure on the inside until they crack. His ideals meet the real world and survive for a little while until they begin to fall apart as human nature intervenes over time. To relieve some of the tensions in the camp, Kageyama sends Kaji and most of the rookie soldiers out to build fortifications, during which the Russian campaign into Manchuria begins. Kaji's little unit is folded into a new one, and they are the second line of defense after the first line further up dies gloriously for the Japanese Empire.

And here, about six hours into this war epic, do we get our first battle. From a technical point of view, the battle is competent and small in scale. It's remarkably tense, though, and that has almost everything to do with the extraordinary amount of work that went into building Kaji as a character. There are about a dozen tanks, but the extras seem a bit thin. Still, it's easy to see what's going on and watch as the action moves around, and the action does no move in Japan's favor. In the end, Kaji must pick up his gun and fire into the coming soldiers. Did his bullets hit and kill the men we see? Can we be sure in the hail of millions of bullets? We can be sure of the post-battle moment when Kaji has to strangle a fellow Japanese soldier to keep him quiet that he killed him, though. The humanist has become an outright murderer. Surely there's no more for him to fall. We may find out in Parts 5 and 6.

Much like the first part, The Human Condition: Part II really could stand on its own. Kaji has his ideals and his journey (it's downward, if you hadn't surmised), and his time in the regular army has a clear beginning, middle, and end. And that journey is involving and surprisingly crushing. Watching an idealist in the middle of his ideals crashing around him to the point that he has to violate them all is really sad, and the subtext of both Kobayashi and Junpei Gomikawa's own views in relation to the trajectory of Japan through the 30s and 40s (they were against the militarism and colonization of Manchuria) gives it an extra flavor.

This may be the middle third of a three-part tale, but it's a great one.

This second entry is subtitled "Road to Eternity," which is apt. Although thirty minutes shorter than the first Human Condition film, this second movie felt much longer and overall less engaging. The entire first half (Part 3 of the series, with each film having two parts) could have been condensed substantially and merged with Part 4. Throughout Part 3, we watch Kaji, our idealistic protagonist, as he deals with the violence and pettiness of military life. Except, he's not fighting the enemy; he's fighting the oppression of the more senior soldiers, who seem to delight in humiliating and physically beating the recruits. We see this over and over again. Although we watch Kaji attempt to live up to his humanistic ideals, the repetitiveness of Part 3 lacks much of the punch of the first movie and instead feels more like watching ninety minutes of hazing.

With Part 4, the movie slowly veers back to the qualities that made Human Condition I so engaging. Sent into the field, Kaji and his men prepare fortifications, receive news of Japan's defeat at Okinawa, and feel the war finally coming to them. Kaji, the pacifist, finds himself leading the riflemen in combat and vowing to stay alive and make it home to his wife, even as the distance between his ideals and his actions seems to grow.

It is these situational conflicts between Kaji's personal beliefs and the circumstances at hand that Human Condition I exploited so effectively, and the latter half of Human Condition II returns to form. It is a shame it takes the movie so very long to get there.

Part II of Masaki Kobayashi's "Human Condition" follows the noble Kaji (Tatsuya Nakadai), now forced into military service, as he tries to hold on to his conscience despite increasingly absurd circumstances.

If Part I was a POW drama with a love story sub-plot, influencing many that followed it, then Part II is one of the best and rawest of the original boot-camp films, planting seeds for, in particular, "Full Metal Jacket". In fact, Kaji's training with the Imperial Army makes US Boot Camp look like daycare, uninclined as director Kobayashi is to pull punches when it comes to the ritual sadism of the Japanese military, which he personally endured in real life. The film bravely confronts Kaji's attitude, an almost holier-than-thou morality than annoys bullying veterans. This forces Kaji to deeply transform as a character and as a human being, from preppy moralist to actual, worn hero, a transition Nakadai pulls off with tremendous effect and efficiency.

But back to the bigger picture. Like Kubrick's similar – and, one should point out, lesser – film of the same genre, this is two pictures in one: a boot-camp film about the dehumanization of the military, and a war film. The first two thirds are all intensive training, with bullying veterans and hapless recruits. Here Kaji faces an interesting contradiction: he rejects the war with all his heart, yet he has it in him to be a perfect warrior. There is the inevitable inept recruit pushed to the brink subplot, but it is handled with more humanity and sense of absurdity than most other similar films could dream of.

Finally, the film takes us to the front, where all the bluster and empty honor fades in front of a line of charging enemy tanks, a startlingly effective battle scene that separates the men from the boys, though not in ways they had anticipated. Kobayashi's film rejects the traditional "bridge syndrome" typical of middle installments in film trilogies, and gives us the perfect Part II: a self-contained enough story with enough substance and depth to stand on its own, while drawing from its predecessor and opening up interesting possibilities for the finale.

Roll on part III.

Kaji continues his path to righteousness, his path to herodom, his path to killing evil with kindness and companion for his fellow man. He will always be the guy who shows the other cheek and will take it for his fellow man.

The thing that is so effective from what Kaji does is that he puts up a mirror to what evil is made by his fellow man towards his other fellow man. The first fellow man doesn't like that. The first fellow man doesn't understand where Kajis kindness comes from. Why is he so different?

But it's easy to be Kaji. Just be a human being and act the way you want to be treated by others. That's why Kaji makes an impact. Because he does all this while one of the most horrific periods of human existance was underway.