Zerbrechliches Schicksal

I saw "The Castle of Sand" at a Japanese Film Festival this year in Sydney, and I must say that I'm surprised that this movie isn't better known as it's so beautifully made and incredibly moving...It's one of those near-perfect gems that are few and far between. It's a fairly long movie at nearly 2.5 hours, but the movie is one that draws you in very quickly and keeps you wondering up until the very end.

The plot centres around the mysterious murder of Miki, a retired policeman in his 60's who was well-liked by pretty much everyone who knew him for his kindness and integrity. Two detectives, one a rookie and one fairly older, are assigned to the case and what at first seems like three unrelated stories slowly weave together to reveal the reasons and the person behind Miki's death. Even if you're not a fan of foreign movies, "The Castle of Sand" is still definitely worth a watch.

This movie has three stories which are skillfully merged together at the end. One story is about a determined detective who is searching for a murderer. The second story is about a composer with social aspirations who is preparing to perform the debut of his piano concerto. I won't spoil it by describing the third story which is a flashback 30 years into the past. The third story has very little dialog and shows what silent movie fans have always known: you don't need much dialog to tell a good story.

The English subtitling on the dvd version I saw is not great, but passable. As a minor quibble, the subtitles are not present to translate written documents when a newspaper article or arrest warrant is shown on the screen.

There are some nice visual scenes which are quite effective. I last saw this movie in the 1970's and although I forgot the movie title, I never forgot the scene where the two detectives ride silently on their way to arrest the murderer. When I viewed this movie again recently, I was surprised to see how brief this scene actually is.

The Film Society of Lincoln Center Presents

A Special Retrospective of The 43rd New York Film Festival

The Beauty of the Everyday: Japan's Shochiku Company at 110 September 24 – October 20, 2005

This project is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts, which believes that a great nation deserves great art.

This year's New York Film Festival Retrospective— The Beauty of the Everyday: Japan's Shochiku Company at 110— is virtually a pocket history of Japanese cinema. While some fifteen of the forty-five films in the retrospective are devoted to Japanese filmmaker masters, such as Ozu, Naruse, and Mizoguchi, more than two dozen of the films are by directors far less well-known in the West.

The Castle of Sand / Suna no Utsuwa Yoshitaro Nomura, 1974; 140m Two detectives, Imanishi and Yoshimura, are assigned to the murder of a 60-year-old man whose body was found dumped in a railroad yard. It turns to be that of a former policeman, Miki; the murder now seems even more mysterious, as Miki was well liked by all and had been on holiday when he was killed. The detectives visit all the places to which Miki has traveled, with little luck, but then they read an account buried in a lengthy report of how Miki years before had befriended a destitute, leprous man and his young son. Amazingly, that boy had grown up to become Eiryo Waga, a rising star in the music world. Could such an eminent figure have anything to do with the murder? Sadly, Yoshitaro Nomura passed away this past April; for years one of Shochiku's most popular and reliable directors, he worked successfully in a variety of genres but especially made his mark with The Castle of Sand, based on a best-selling novel. A real delight, the film contains many of the classic features of the detective film — the pairing of a veteran and a rookie, the investigation as a voyage of discovery, wonderfully eccentric supporting characters — but under Nomura's sure direction they take on a whole new life.

ONLY ONE Screening: Sun Sept 25: 9:00pm

CASTLE OF SAND is an engrossing, laid-back police procedural that captures your attention even when the plot seems fairly ordinary. A Tokyo cop (Tetsuro Tamba) is troubled when a retired cop is found brutally murdered, with no evidence save the vague recollections of a few townsfolk. At times, the story is reminiscent of a regional travelogue, but in learning more about Japan, Tamba hones in on a small set of likely suspects, but everyone is so agreeable that uncovering the truth becomes like rooting out the one hidden evidence of violence in a sea of potential data.

Regrettably, the film unravels in the final forty or so minutes, when the remainder of the story is told with musical accompaniment of a famous pianist. The plot becomes frankly loses credibility and even becomes rather nonsensical. The movie changes mood and style, and dripping with melodrama.

One thing to beware of with this police procedural is that it's 143 minutes and very drawn out. Director Yoshitaro Nomura has a tendency to explain everything, such as the logistics of the cops as they travel around rural parts of Japan, which he does frequently via words on the screen, to the cops re-stating things that we've already seen or figured out. Also, while there is value to understanding just how much leg work goes into solving a crime, there were times I thought it was overdone, or at least, that the "slow burn" payoff better be high.

Mercifully, the beautiful cinematography offsets some of the issues with pace. Nomura often zooms out back from his characters to show not just wonderful scenery, but I think also to give us a sense for how small these lives are in the grand scheme of things. The past has a tendency to be quickly forgotten by the world, as if it were swallowed up in forests humming with loud insects, but not by individuals. No matter how successful someone may become, no matter the number of years that have gone by, the past is always with us, and trauma can come bubbling to the surface in a heartbeat. This is the main payoff to the film, not a surprise twist in the murder mystery itself, which never really has more than one suspect. There is real emotional power in seeing how the past fits together and affects people in the present. Nomura unveils this quite well via flashbacks set not to dialogue, but soaring music, and the result is a feeling of empathy for a callous man who has killed the kindest of persons. It's melodramatic for sure, but enlightened at the same time.