L'Île nue

Okay, we have a loving tribute here, personal for director Kaneto Shindo as portraying the life of his parents. We have the rural hardship, and dogged persistence for live in a place where water is painfully hauled over a steep cliff, and we have the quiet cinematic language that describes it.

But also describes a life of simple pleasures. Shindo observes both closely, with sympathy.

The narrative thread of The Naked Island flows with the slow and dull repetition of life itself - if the movie is dull and monotonous it is because life is dull and monotonous and with a handful of fleeting moments of pleasure and joy scattered among the daily routine of making ends meet. In that sense, the artificiality that some reviewers have spoken of (certainly Shindo's decision to include no dialogues and the film almost silent save for a few natural sounds and voices) touches upon the heart of the thing.

The film follows the cycle of the seasons as the family tries to survive in the small island and it is by using the renewal of nature as a backdrop that Shindo draws emphasis on the periodic nature of life and time - the snake that eats its tail. The theme of renewal and the cycle of life and death is further symbolized through long, repetitious sequences of the man and wife transporting irrigation water in large buckets through the steep steps of a hillside and even further as Shindo ends the film cyclically with the same aerial shot that opened it.

The other major triumph for the great Japanese director is the visual language he employs to tell the simple and languidly paced story. This is probably a point that will only interest the avid film buff but I'm fairly sure it's that kind of person only that will seek out such a film anyway. The cinematography consists of full images, superb staging and framing of the (little is the truth) action, images as much beautiful in the subject they present as in the presentation of the subject itself and vibrating with honesty and clarity of vision. As with Kurosawa in DERSU UZALA, The Naked Island captures the essence of 'life as lived in' - the texture, the mood, the smell.

Combined with the symbolism he has carefully planted within the film, The Naked Island is a complete depiction of life on both macrocosmic and microcosmic levels. Of a very specific kind of life the truth is (rural life in a Japanese island in the 30's) but in the larger scheme of things and in the things that actually matter, what is true of one man is true of many.

In an age where directors are content to just wink at their audiences with a sense of smug satisfaction, presenting us with cynic and gimmicky films, swapping emotional catharsis for surprise 'twists', doing away with honest character portrayals in favour of decorating characters with random quirks, having forgotten visual storytelling in favour of redundant voiceovers, shaky cams or self-consciously, witty dialogue; in an age like this, The Naked Island seems to come from another planet, alien to the mentality and ethics of modern cinema as much as its bucolic subject matter is to modern city life. It's definitely not something that will appeal to most but those that will set out looking for it will not be disappointed.

If you have ever wondered what a film would be like that exemplifies how the tools of the craft can be used to do powerfully what no other art can do, this film answers the question. It is among the most carefully wrought, least encumbered yet profound movies ever made. The fact that it has long been unavailable in America and Europe in any accessible format reflects very sadly upon us all. (Addendum 15 March 2008 for those of you with region-free players: the English distributor, Eureka, has thankfully released the original widescreen version of the movie in PAL format in its 'The Masters of Cinema Series', #12, with an optional commentary by Shindo and his composer, Hikaru Hayashi. Available from Amazon.uk.)

In a time where cinema was in the whole world was still concerned by representation of lives and social studies, this movie is an intense an important piece. It's great! Strong, hard, oppressing, nice, and emotive. Everything in the hard (but sometimes amazing) life of those workers is showed in it... It's really something the cinema can do at his best. A social study showing every aspect of a style of life, with its private feelings and possible events (thoose who are saying nothing happens mustn't have watched the whole movie. I was surprised by the changing of rhythm in the last 30 minutes).

It's showing everything essential cinema can show: Life, conditions of life, feelings of those who are living, and it's showing it in a very good way. This is a touching and oppressive movie which could maybe even be used as an historical document (for history of the Japanese island farmers in the middle of the XX century) , but also as an intense fiction.

I remember this film from my student days. I saw it in an uptown, shabby, art house theatre (when art meant porn) in Philadelphia. I was amazed. As I recall, it is a film without dialog. Not silent, but no dialog. Black and white, but singularly visual. Three, maybe four characters with self- effacing directing and camera work, it was as intimate as small off-Broadway theatre. I've seen nothing since as cinematic, or moving. No one I've ever met, has seen it. But I remember it vividly.

I came to the internet searching for information on this movie. Not only did I find it, but I found a comment that mirrored my own experience with the movie. I too saw it in my student days, nearly 30 years ago, in a Friday-night "cinema" series in the student union theater. I see it's listed as B&W; I remember it in color -- maybe colorized it in my head? No dialog, just music and environmental sound; gorgeous photography of the island, the sea, the brutally hard work ferrying water for the crops on the terraces. And we follow that work for a long long time; we go through impressed, to irritated (why don't they move to town for chrissake), to rage at being made to sit through this for so long, to numb resignation. So we're right where the characters are. Writhing in my seat, hoping it will come to an end. And then the brief scene that left me stunned, that made sense of all that lead up to it, two seconds of film that explain us in the universe. Like William, I've never met anyone else who's seen this movie. And I don't know if I could sit through it again. But I'm sure glad I did back then.