Ninjô kami fûsen

Filmed in conjunction with the radical Zenshin-za theatre group, Humanity and Paper Balloons, Sadao Yamanaka's tragi-comic tribute to the poor and working classes in the 18th century during the Edo period is a treasure of world cinema. A contemporary of Ozu, Naruse, and Mizoguchi, Yamanaka made 22 films before his death in Manchuria in 1938 at the age of 29 but sadly only three have survived. Humanity and Paper Balloons is a jidaigeki or historical period film whose power lies not only in the social realist message that depicts the hardships endured by the poor but in its delineation of character, its humor, and the beautiful cinematography that captures the claustrophobic nature of the village in which the story takes place.

Based on a Kabuki play known as Shinza the Barber, the film opens with an unseen suicide by a disgraced samurai who hangs himself out of desperation. While the death is being investigated, local tenants hold a wake (drinking the landlord's sake) that turns into a evening of merriment, ostensibly to cleanse the evil that lingers in the village. As the party proceeds, Yazuka boss Yataguro and his gang look for Shinza (Kanemon Nakamura), a hairdresser, to exact revenge for the gambling parties he has sponsored in their territory. Shrugging off the danger he faces, Shinza, an appealing but naive character, continues to hold gambling parties and pushes the envelope even further by kidnapping the daughter of the wealthy merchant Shirokoya to cause the local bosses to lose face.

Meanwhile a poor Ronin named Matajuro Unno (Chojuro Kawarasaki) desperately wants a meeting with Mori, a samurai official, who knew his father and who he feels owes him a debt of gratitude but he is continuously rebuffed. As Unno's attempts to meet and talk with Mori fail, his wife (Shizue Yamagishi) ekes out a living by making paper balloons and all of the strands of the film come together at the end with tragic consequences. Although the story is bleak, the film is lightened considerably by its humor and intelligent interplay of character.

Like Hirokazu Koreeda in his 2004 film Hana Yori mo Naho, Yamanaka masterfully challenges the legend of the samurai as heroes and shows how the Bushido code of honor was ultimately empty of compassion and common sense. Humanity and Paper Balloons, true to its title, is a film of deep and abiding humanity that has finally been restored by Eureka Entertainment's Masters of Cinema Series to its proper place among the all time film classics.

The overall "slice of life" depiction of Edo's poor was well done. The technical details-acting, scenery, character building, cinematography, etc.-were well done. The film kept me engaged for 9/10ths of the story. The reason why I'm docking points is because the ending felt like the writer went, "Oh crap, we're running out of time and budget and need to wrap things up quickly." The conclusion felt natural, but it also felt like we were missing a scene or two or three to get there. Ultimately, I left the film feeling frustrated that I invested this much time into a story with an unsatisfying payoff.

I got this movie out of curiosity to see why some writers call Yamanaka the equal of Ozu and Kurosawa, despite his death at just 29. A pre war movie about 18th Century slum dwellers doesn't sound so interesting, but like the other reviewers here I found it a fascinating and haunting experience. I think this movie will live with me for many years.

It features a range of wonderful characters, most notably a sad, alcoholic samurai and his patient wife (the maker of the 'paper balloons' of the title), the sharp go-getter Shinza, the rabble of slum dwellers who surround them and the gangsters and others who prey on them - but who are often prey in return. The structure of the story is marvelous - its so very short, yet, there are multiple threads, all brought together beautifully - the young couple seeking to elope, the desperation of the fallen Samurai trying to regain his position, the sharp practices of Shinza, even the little jokes of a blind (or is he?) handyman. It all comes together to a haunting ending, that seems remarkably modern. It is also a wonderfully humane story, that treats the poverty stricken characters with respect and compassion.

This is a truly great film, one that can stand up with the acclaimed masterpieces of the 1950's. Such a terrible shame that Yamanaka died so young and that so few of his other movies survived. I hope what others are around will be brought out soon on DVD. Masters of Cinema should be congratulated for releasing this lovely version.

Although the script is based on a Kabuki story 'Shinza the barber,' the archaic atmosphere of the original story is seen nowhere in this movie. As in his earlier 'Kochiyama Soshun,' the director turned both saints and criminals into mundane figures absorbed in the petty concerns. I think this is the beauty of the movie. The characters are more rational and feisty than ordinary viewers expect. They are all looking in the different directions, which reminded me of the 'Cherry Orchard' by Chekhov.

Honestly, the last 15 minutes of this movie disappointed me a little. The last scenes of earlier 'Kochiyama Soshun' is, I think, one of the miracles in cinema history. But 'Humanity and Paper Balloon' lacked such a formidable climax. So I was a little disappointed. But an hour after watching it, I started to feel terrified of the ending. Maybe the humble description of the forlorn wife was the reason for it. That character didn't get my attention so much while I was watching it. But now I keep thinking about that character. I'm haunted.

I like the director's dry realism. He depicted the poverty-stricken alley as such and nothing else. To be sure, it must be depressing to be among the least fortunate in the monetary economy. In addition to dependency on others and proximity to crimes, uncomfortable alienation from the neighbors is as likely to happen among the poor as among the better off. I know that it is commonplace to interpret the pessimistic undertone of the movie as influenced by the then social conditions. But, besides that, the depiction of pessimistic poverty has an aesthetic advantage in itself.

Humanity and Paper Balloons is a jidaigeki period drama that subtly defuses the myth surrounding the samurai class through a poor ronin samurai who gets desperate and abets a kidnapping. While the protagonist of the film, a hairdresser, through his cunning tries to earn respect and climb up the societal ladder.

The movie is set in the dying period of the Tokugawa era. This movie comes at an age where jidaigeki movies used to glorify the samurai class which was the highest social class above the farmer and craftsmen while merchants occupied the lowest strata. Humanity and Paper Balloons spits on the existing fascist trend of showing unreal themes of majestic samurai warriors valiantly fighting through their heroic life and never tainting their honor. The movie tries to capture the darker realities of the acclaimed peaceful Edo period which, although started in the 1600s with rapid economic growth, strict social order and popular enjoyment of arts and culture, decayed through the years and ended in 1868. It does this by showcasing how samurai warriors can be corrupt, low class merchants with money and mafia can be influential and powerful and a poor and low-class person like a barber can be more crafty and honorable.

The plot opens with the suicide of a disgraced poor Samurai. It portrays a sordid world where the humiliated suffering samurais now mingle with the lower-classes and small-time merchants, who are at the mercy of stuffy corrupt officials. Mori, a high ranking samurai who turned his back on his fellow ronins indulges in defaced practices. Merchants employ thugs to police the slum apart from the inept regular police. A low class hair dresser takes up the central role while trying to gain respect in the society and kidnaps a pawnbroker's daughter who was set to be married to a high class samurai family.

Like all Yamanaka's films, Humanity and Paper Balloons is a jidaigeki, but one poles apart from the majestic spectacle of, say, Akira Kurosawa's later works for this very same studio that were made after the war. The film is deeply pessimistic, insisting that life in feudal Japan was hellish and short for those at the foot of the social ladder.