Solntse

Sokurov's haunting recreation of how Emperor Hirohito spent the last hours before the Japanese surrender, this is a miraculous work, and it provided the most powerful aesthetic and emotional experience of the 2005 New York Film Festival, whose official selections were not lacking in depth and fine film-making.

"The Sun" depicts a man who knows very well what is going on but lives in a cocoon, in a state of detachment and ineffectuality that becomes strangely heartrending. Issey Ogata's performance as the Emperor easily competes for hypnotic intensity with Bruno Ganz's Hitler in the German film "Downfall" -- but with a very different sort of bunker and a very different kind of man: a silent, immaculate country house with a few faithful servants in attendance; a small, frail but upright and dignified personage who can easily explain the causes of the Japanese defeat to his general staff but has never learned to dress himself or open a door. Even on this day he is more comfortable browsing through photos of his family and American movie stars, dictating notes on marine biology, and writing poetry. Despite the disgrace, he is selflessly happy that peace has come. He inks a brush to write a statement to his absent son, but instead drafts a few verses about the weather.

Later he is taken to see Eisenhower, and then brought back again to dine with the general. He enjoys the wine and the meat and has his first taste of a Havana cigar. The Americans conclude that the Emperor is like a child. "What's it like being a living god?" Ike asks. And speaking, to the dismay of the Japanese interpreter, in perfect English, Hirohito says, "What can I tell you? You know, it is not easy being Emperor." These are just a few details in a film rich in telling ones. Simply enumerating them can't explain this film's slow, cumulative emotional wallop -- or the lovely, fantastic, dreamlike landscape images toward the end. This film about one of modern history's most humiliating defeats is a stunning triumph.

"The Sun" demonstrates unmistakably that Andrei Sokurov is one of the world's great filmmakers.

Another part of Sokurov's "totalitarian" sequence, this is devoted to Japanese WW II-time Emperor Hirohito and his farewell to the old good times of imperial Japan and painful entry into new after-war realities of defeated Japan rising to "democracy" and subject to America's "civilizing".

Compared to the dictators previously depicted by Sokurov (Hitler and Lenin), Hirohito appears the least dictatorial: he sometimes is felt like a "hostage" of the desire to defend the country's own pass of development against the "corroding" influx of Western "plebeian" culture, the desire which led Japan into the fascist "axis" and determined its defeat when the old traditions of relying on the soldiers' spirit and honour and not technical power, and despising non-Japanese as barbarians did not justify themselves.

The film is a hard viewing even for art-house fans because of obscure (probably psychologically justified) coloring and virtually no exterior action. All the action is psychological depicting the way the Emperor comes to reality and to realizing (and publicly declaring) that he is a man, not God, and taking the disgrace of defeat on himself to save his country.

Overall, 7/10.

This is a very minimalistic effort. A movie where it seems nothing much happens and which moves along so slow, even snails would be annoyed. So if go into the movie expecting something fast, with fancy camera work (it's great camera work and the set/costume design is superb), where the camera brings in an action level, you'd be mistaken.

But what you do get, is a wonderfully crafted story, with exceptional acting. And while this is a Russian movie, it plays in Japan and has Japanese values written all over it. While it could be described as boring, I really liked every little bit of it. The stillness and ambiguity, the main character "fighting" to maintain a status. The cruel treatment he seems to be getting by some and of course the clash of the cultures. Subtle, sublime and very well done.

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 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.