Ikimono no kiroku

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.

From the very very beginning during the opening credits sequence, we are given the ominous feeling of paranoia, the feeling with which it's vital to sympathize with Toshiro Mifune's character, an old foundry owner convinced that Japan is on the brink of nuclear obliteration, trying to force his reluctant and resentful family to safety in Brazil.

Mifune's performance is so very masculine and real, as are nearly all of them. In this film, he displays a self-assurance that allows him to descend into pathetic helplessness. Of all the post-war Kurosawa films that I've seen so far, I Live In Fear is the most direct and informative. America may feed off of the dread showcased by the Japanese culture in this film and some may feel terribly sad for the individualistic portrayal of the debilitating fear stricken into the immovable hearts of stubborn old men like Mifune's character.

Even as early as WWII, I learned, America's most powerful weapon has been fear. However, in those times, it was a much purer, less vain utility. But what about the people it destroys for the sake of its own feeling of security?

"I Live in Fear" is a thought-provoking, moving film about love, greed and fear, framed as only Kurosawa could. If you're a fan it's a must see, as it explores new and old themes in a stark, interesting manner. Excellent acting through-out, and please look carefully--Mifune wears no make-up, just huge glasses and a perpetual scowl; his talent and intensity were all he needed. This film also gives us an interesting look at Japan after the bomb, and the different ways people chose to deal with the fear they all in fact felt. The film does not judge, sympathizing with the children even as it highlights their selfishness. A good movie to make you think about where we've been, and where we might be headed.

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).

Toshiro Mifune's brilliant performance as an embittered factory owner at war with his family owes much to traditional Japanese theatre. The family want him committed to a lunatic asylum in what at first appears a dispute over succession and family wealth. But it emerges that the old man's crankiness and ill-temper is not simply based on a dislike of his mostly lazy and grasping offspring. He is driven by a fear of nuclear bombs (remember this was made less than 10 years after Hiroshima) and his plan to dispose of the business (a foundry, symbol of post-war reconstruction) and move to a farm in Brazil seems more like the action of someone who wants to spare the family, including his illegitimate children, and escape the horror. He is prepared to go to any length, even sacrificing himself and the business in the process. It is a film about a family blown apart by insecurity and fear, made into a gripping tale by a top director and an accomplished cast, as well as giving another twist to one of Kurosawa's constant themes - how the impact of outside forces on traditional values pushes Japan closer to chaos and madness.