Crónica de un ser vivo

Akira Kurosawa's I LIVE IN FEAR (1955) is one of his lesser-known and sadly underrated films, with a revelatory performance by Toshiro Mifune as a character nearly double his real age at the time. Mifune plays the old owner of an iron foundry who has become so paranoid about the possibility of another atomic attack that he first tried to build a bomb shelter and now is planning to move his entire family to a farm in Brazil.

Naturally his adult children and even his wife have no desire to move from their comfortable Tokyo home and try to get him declared mentally incompetent. Takashi Shimura is a dentist serving as conflicted judge on the court mediation panel. This excellent look into the personal psychology of 1950s nuclear paranoia is a huge step above the numerous propaganda films of the era and an ideal complement to the numerous allegorical sci-fi horror films from the same period (especially GODZILLA, from the year before and also starring Takashi Shimura), as well as some of the more interesting Cold War post-apocalyptic films like WORLD WITHOUT END (1956) and PANIC IN YEAR ZERO (1962).

I Live in Fear, more accurately translated from the Japanese as Record of a Living Being, marks a move towards gloomier, more pessimistic works from Kurosawa. It is, as far as I know, the earliest film to deal head-on with the issue of nuclear weapons. While Japan's own Godzilla (1954) and US films like Kiss Me Deadly (1955) made metaphors for the destructive capabilities of the bomb, I Live in Fear looks directly at the unspoken social terror by which those other allegorical films were inspired.

But this is not a one-issue film. Kurosawa also rails against the problems in a typical patriarchal Japanese family – both with the family elder's demanding control over his children and also the younger generation's disrespect for the old man. However, an overarching theme seems to be an attack on individualism. Niide, the patriarch seeks only to save himself and his family. Throughout the picture we are reminded that there is a wider society out there, beginning with the opening shots of crowded streets scenes (which remind me of the beginning of The Public Enemy). So Kurosawa puts several of his political eggs in I Live in Fear's basket, but the points are skilfully woven together around the theme of the nuclear threat.

While we aren't confronted with an actual demonstration of the effects of nuclear war, the imagery of total destruction is there in subtle ways. The iron foundry which Niide owns resembles a ruined, burnt out city. At one point, Niide is startled by the beginning of a thunderstorm – the perfect metaphor for a nuclear strike; a flash, a boom and rainfall (in other words, the radioactive fallout after the explosion). It's a slightly obvious device, but the timing is perfect. One of the most haunting images comes towards the end, in a scene where a dusty wind is blowing through Niide's house, flapping through the pages of a book he has left open on the floor.

Kurosawa's regular leading man Toshiro Mifune is daringly cast as the elderly Niide. With makeup ageing his features, the thirty-five year old is in a role unlike any he had played before. He's perhaps a little too lively to convince as an old man, but what counts is that he brings as much power to the performance as he did to his role as Kikuchiyo in Seven Samurai the previous year. His standout scene is the one in which he confronts Dr Harada after getting off the bus, and confesses that he is now terrified. Kurosawa cleverly amplifies his speech by having it take place under a road bridge. Kurosawa's favourite supporting actor, Takashi Shimura, plays Dr Harada, and turns in a strong performance as a kind of consistent voice of reason throughout the picture.

One criticism I sometimes have of Kurosawa is that in his effort to make a point, he occasionally forgets to make a film enjoyable for the audience, and this is somewhat the case here. I Live in Fear is not the most entertaining of Kurosawa's pictures. On the other hand, it's not all that long, and there's a slightly hysterical tone to it that occasionally makes it spellbinding. Kurosawa said this was the picture that he was most proud of, and you can see why. It was a flop at the Japanese box office, and has never been all that popular, but as a record of the atmosphere of the times, it really deserves more recognition.

This is a surprisingly complex film that continues to build and grow right before your eyes. Some of the action and plot mechanism may need to be "accepted" to work, but once you realize that this is not merely an exercise on moral judgements, but a very sly re-working of familiar King Lear themes, the film's power and nuances become evident. For all those who see Kagemusha as a high point, and Ran as a huge failure, they may seek solace in this film, which pushes the trope of the rash old man, who has become so accustomed to getting and doing what he wants, that he cannot and will not accept his extended family's naysaying and interference. A really great film.

I Live in Fear is yet another masterpiece by Akira Kurosawa. It tells the story of an aging patriarch who is terrified nuclear attack will destroy his family and the business he has worked to build up his entire life. His children do not wish to leave the comfortable life in Japan which his labours have provided. They believe he is mad and take him to family court for mediation. It becomes the difficult duty of a mediator to decide whether his fears are rational or not. The shadow of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are palpable in the feverish eyes of legendary actor Toshiro Mifune as the father. A thought-provoking time capsule of post-war Japan, the combination of Kurosawa and Mifune should never be missed.

In 1955 millions of Japanese signed petitions against American atomic testing in the Pacific. Needless to say their concerns were totally ignored and there were reports of people moving to Brazil, although the numbers are not known.

Here we have seventy-year old foundry owner Nakajima played by thirty-five year old Toshiro Mifune, who is so obsessed with the threat of a nuclear holocaust that he plans to sell up and move his extended family, including two mistresses and their offspring, to South America. His family's attempts to have him declared mentally incompetent have the most dire and tragic consequences for them all.

Apart from his ill-conceived and interminable version of Gorky's 'Lower Depths', the consistent quality of Kurosawa's work throughout the fifties and sixties is both staggering and unparalleled.

Unsurprisingly this gloomy opus was a commercial failure and had to wait six years before being shown at the Berlin Film Festival. A further six years were to elapse before its theatrical release in America. It still remains mystifyingly underrated.

All of the acting kudos has been reserved of course for Mifune who is mesmerising in the role. It is such a pity that he and Kurosawa parted company in the late sixties as theirs was a partnership made in heaven.

Every character in this is beautifully drawn and one cannot fail to mention Kurosawa regular Takashi Shimura as domestic mediator Harada who is consumed with guilt and remorse over Nakajima's fate. This comes three years after his own stunning performance in 'Ikiru' for the same director. Ironically he appeared a year earlier in another film dealing with fear of a nuclear holocaust, 'Godzilla', which naturally cleaned up at the box office.

The touches of a master film maker are here in terms of sound effects, editing and grouping of actors. The constant mopping of brows and waving of fans captures perfectly the unbearable heat and of course a Kurosawa film would not be complete without a torrential downpour or two.

This is an immensely powerful work which raises so many issues not least of which is the thin dividing line between rational/irrational behaviour. Does Nakajima 'go too far'? Many would say 'yes'.

It is Nobuo Nakamura as the psychologist who has the most telling speech when asking: "Is he crazy or are those who are unperturbed in an insane world the crazy ones?"

The final shot of the disconsolate Harada trudging down the stairs of the asylum whilst one of Nakajima's daughters, with child on back, walks up to visit her deranged father, is one of cinema's most devastating endings.

In a world presently paralysed by fear and paranoia this timeless film is ripe for rediscovery.