Die Sonne

I like Ogata in most all he does. But I think his casting here is a mistake. He is excellent at pulling out the one or two things of a type to set up a humorous caricature. He is an excellent comedian. I think, though, that as an impressionist rather than an actor, he played his impersonation a little too broadly. (It may be because Ogata does a lot of stage work, and had trouble toning down for the camera.) Having personally met the Emperor Showa in 1985, I can say with some confidence that though the twitching lips are an attribute, it was not as pronounced as Ogata plays it, less conscious, and more a condition of advanced age. (Hence overdone for playing someone in his 40's.)

Another point of contention I have is with the script. There are quite a few moments when Ogata orders his servants to do something; but with the subservient plea "--kudasai". In the first half of the 20th century, the Japanese language was still exceedingly rank conscious. Even a commoner would use a condescending verb form for a request to a subordinate, whether the subordinate was a wife, a servant or an employee. It is even more strange to imagine the fawning servants enduring a request spoken by the Emperor from a linguistic position of submission. Courtly language is quite different from colloquial Japanese, and one instance we have of this is from his first radio transmission in which the Emperor used the personal pronoun 'Chin'.

"The Sun" was a good way to introduce ourselves to the minimalist, detail-obsessed films of Alexander Sokurov -- so thanks to Minnesota Film Arts for showing it at St. Anthony Main, February 2010.

Sokurov's Emperor Hirohito is not only humanized in this film, he finds redemption, if in a limited way that leaves him assailable for his true weakness: weakness of will, anxiety of spirit, and dreamy preference for leisurely study and cool contemplation. Hirohito is a true nobleman where his job called for either a savior or a butcher.

The actor who plays Hirohito has an amazing technique. All of his facial features and especially his mouth and front teeth are applied very deliberately to create the sense of a careful, intelligent, and ultimately ordinary man.

What to say of Sokurov's unique vision? It's something like a documentary of daily habits, a virtuosic sequencing of mundane and ritual behavior -- eating breakfast, reading a book, chatting with his servants, waiting for General McArthur to return, greeting his wife -- sequences that contain turning points. A surprisingly naive, yet resigned man faces up to his life, thus learning to really live in the end.

I've waited 24 hours before reviewing The Sun in the hope that a day to reflect might produce some kind of insight into what I saw - unfortunately, that hasn't happened, so you're stuck with the same thoughts that I had yesterday.

If you're looking for some enlightenment into what goes through the mind of a god soon to be demoted to a mere mortal in the face of a crushing national defeat, you won't find much to help you out in The Sun. Unless you're one of those people who believes that those thoughts would have something to do with crabs.

So, what do you get in return for a ticket? The film itself is very dark - and by that I mean that there's very little light. Shot almost exclusively indoors with very little additional lighting the result is an effect that would be interesting in a single photograph, but becomes tiresome over the course of 110 minutes. Yes, it builds atmosphere, but it just became irritating to me.

Issei Ogata as Hirohito is very good, but his inability to keep his mouth closed and immobile when he's not speaking seems to be an embellishment too far (unless the real Hirohito actually did this). Most of the Japanese actors are excellent, in fact.

Robert Dawson as MacArthur is terrible - calling him wooden would be to slander actual wood.

The soundtrack is quite bizarre but, for the most part, works well to create a background tension which the script can't quite manage. If you've ever wondered what a segment of Wagner's Ring Cycle would sound like juxtaposed against the beat of a radio's heterodyne, this could be your film. Sometimes the only sound is the ticking of the clock - which is probably intentional again but ....

I realise that I'm not building a very good case for going to see this film, but the truth of the matter is that, as a whole, I found that I couldn't help myself from watching despite its flaws.

Watching this film is an interesting experience, but it will probably only appeal to you if you enjoy something that's quite challenging to sit through and you can forgive a script that ignores what could be interesting directions in favour of exploring the mundane.

The beginning of this film is exceptionally dull, half an hour of Hirohito - in an excellent, intriguing performance by Issey Sogata - pottering around, surrounded by his overbearing courtiers. His servants appear genuinely awed by the God-like emperor and can hardly bow low enough to show their total subservience. Everything - buttoning a jacket, placing a knife and fork in his hands - is undertaken for the emperor.

In a curious similarity to Hitler's last days in the chaotic bunker in the recent film Downfall (2005), Hirohito is confined to his own bunker beneath his imperial palace in Tokyo. Yet, there is little sign of the war down here, just a series of dull, ill-lit yet nicely-furnished rooms, all wooden panelling and seemingly very quiet, in the aftermath of the atomic bombs. The strange thing is the almost entirely Westernised clothes and total banality of the emperor's life. Hirohito wanders around like an Edwardian gentleman, attired in exquisite tailoring, all top hat and fine suits, like Bertie Wooster without the humour.

Hirohito studies Darwin and makes a few minor reflections on his role in Japanese imperialism leading up to the war, and the nature of the beast, yet he is basically Chauncey Gardiner (Peter Selles) in the film Being There (1979), a sort of idiot-savant set free into a world of which he has little or no understanding. You just can't believe that Hirohito had any serious role in the whole affair.

Continuing the Darwinist motif, there are little surrealist sequences, dream-like glimpses into Hirohito's mind, with strange flying fish bombers and so forth. In these sections, the film's like a sort of Salvador Dali/Luis Buenuel/Hirohito war and bombing comb. This reminds me of the brilliant Terence Mallick film, The Thin Red Line (1998), with several US troops under-going similar experiences in an island paradise during the terrible war in the Pacific.

This is why I think the film works. The first meeting of Hirohito and MacArthur - in effect, the new emperor of Japan - is full of tension, a clash of two cultures, both incredibly nervous of each other. The two men start bonding and in one incredible moment of film, MacArthur and Hirohito have a sort of cigar kiss, the former lighting the emperor's cigar while puffing on his own, both engaged, head-to-head. It's like they're exchanging the fumes of victory and defeat. The embers. It is like an antidote to Bill Clinton's normal use of cigars.

They get along just fine, like Laurel and Hardy Go to Tokyo, or something. Or Will Hay, for British readers.

Did Hirohito really speak English? In one moment, Hirohito - in true Chauncey Gardiner fashion - goes into the garden for his first-ever photo-shoot. The photographers are squabbling amongst themselves over terms and conditions while, in the background, this peculiar, be-suited gentleman wanders around tending his roses. He proves to be quite a star, however, influences as he is by the American film stars he so idolises.

Very powerful film-making, which leaves you feeling very unsettled. Through the minutae of his days and his every gesture, nervous tick and grimaces, it describes the last days of the living God, the Emperor of Japan. It's already perfectly clear to everyone that Japan is on its knees and the war has been won by mere mortals. It's perfectly clear, and yet the nation apparently still needs to know that its Emperor is a God. Superficially, the movie could be compared to Der Untergang, The Downfall, in that it shows a previous icon of absolute power cooped up in his bunker, days before his complete demise. The mood of these two movies is so very different, though - there was life stirring in among the ashes of Oliver Hirschbiegel's Berlin, still. There is seemingly no life left at all in the devastation surrounding the Japanese Emperor's palace and bunker. You see so little of the physical destruction, possibly because the movie had a small-ish budget and they couldn't afford complete reconstructions, but you feel it everywhere. Never before have sea creatures preserved in formaldehyde been more eerie. I was blown away by the sequences of the catfish (a recurrent subject of traditional Japanese ink drawings) swimming in the sky like bomber planes over a nuclear-war devastated nightmarish landscape. All the way through, I loved the use of classical music, seemingly distant and distorted - Bach and Wagner, and others. Every little gesture and detail in the movie matters, every camera angle and perspective is carefully planned. Some might call it slow, but to be honest I was never bored. Thankfully, the movie is also completely non-judgmental of anyone. Despite the odd wooden performance, I recommend this to anyone who is used to quality world cinema.