Tokai no Kaii 7-ji 03-bun (都会の怪異7時03分, Sotoji Kimura, 1935)

Though less well remembered now, Sotoji Kimura was a fairly prominent director at PCL in the 1930s having made Japan’s first musical Tipsy Life in 1933. A left-wing filmmaker who had been associated with keiko eiga and proletarian cinema, he nevertheless also later made imperial propaganda films and eventually decamped to Manei in Manchuria, remaining in China until 1953. Though he returned to filmmaking after his return to Japan, he never regained the same kind of success he’d experienced before the war.

Tokai no Kaii 7-ji 03-bun (Lit, “Urban Mystery: 7:03) seems like it may have been an outlier in his earlier career which doesn’t appear to have leaned much towards genre cinema. Though in some quarters billed as a horror film, likely because of the inclusion of the word “怪異” which implies some kind of strangeness or connection with the supernatural, it’s more of a noirish morality tale with an otherworldly edge as a compromised man attempting to reform himself after a living a dissolute life makes a series of poor choices after being given a copy of the following evening’s newspaper. A title card at the beginning states that the film is adapted from the final story written by Itsuma Maki penned especially for PCL. Itsuma Maki was a pen name used by Kotaro Hasegawa specifically for his true life mystery stories and his picture that is featured. Hasegawa had passed away from asthma at the young age of 35 a few months before the film’s release.

The story itself is said to be inspired by British writer Holloway Horn’s The Old Man, though all it seems to take from it is the morally compromised protagonist and the newspaper from the future. Miyamoto is in a bind because his girlfriend is pregnant and even with both of them working they’re struggling to make ends meet as is it. He calls his friend Tarama, who is a reporter, for financial help. It’s at this point that we learn both that Miyamoto used to live a fairly debauched life in the bars and clubs of Ginza and may also have had issues with gambling. He has, though, attempted to give all that up after meeting Noriko (Sachiko Chiba), a kimono-wearing respectable young woman who works in a shop selling Western fashions. They do not appear to be legally married, though Miyamoto refers to her as his wife, possibly because their financial situation does not allow it seeing as Noriko may have to give up her job if she married. Miyamoto is currently working for some kind of shady company that sells financial information and is in the middle of a dodgy deal with a government minister who suggests the nation is on the brink of financial collapse, but that they also have to at least appear financially responsible in a strange echo of Miyamoto’s situation.

Miyamoto has already tried asking his boss for financial assistance, but the boss is incredibly judgemental and unsympathetic. He calls Miyamoto irresponsible and suggests he’s embarrassed himself just by asking his employer for this kind of favour. To add insult to injury, he also tells him he should pay for the personal call he just made to Tarama on the office phone. When he’s approached by a strange old man on the street who seems to know his name, Miyamoto is rude at first and flat out tells him he doesn’t have money to buy the newspaper he’s selling. But the old man badgers him into taking one, claiming that it’s the edition from the following evening. The old man walks away smiling, remarking that Miyamoto is the only person on earth on who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow. Comparing the paper those of other passengers on the way home, Miyamoto confirms that it does seem to be from the following day, though when he disembarks he’s followed by hysterical laughter from the other passengers having repeatedly tried to confirm the day’s date along with obvious facts such as Friday 27th following Thursday 26th.

In any case, some of the newspaper headlines, including an earthquake and a fire breaking out at the bar where he was due to meet Tarama the following evening, come true further convincing him the content is accurate. An obvious solution presents itself in using the racing report to place a bet and win financial security for his new family, but Miyamoto doesn’t have the stake money. He only needs 20 yen, but even after waking a pawnbroker in the middle of the night, he can’t get more than eight. It’s at this point he becomes increasingly greedy and desperate, deciding to take advantage of a report of a late night robbery, staking the place out and robbing the thief as he makes his escape only to end up killing a seemingly innocent man who had even less in his wallet than he did.

That the man had no money perhaps further bears out the straitened nature of the contemporary economy, though it seems clear enough that most of Miyamoto’s issues are the result of his personal failings. Perhaps the best thing to do would have been to throw the newspaper away. His attempt to use it to cheat at gambling might be understandable, but his decision to rob a man who had committed theft as if that were somehow more morally justifiable than committing the crime himself directly is not really defensible. On realising he may have killed the man, he simply shrugs and says he was “scum” anyway, as he steals his disappointingly empty wallet. His repeated attempts to get rid of it, which all fail as the universe mysteriously returns it to him, may symbolise his desire to discard his crime, but in the end he cannot escape his fate just as he failed to overcome his nature when presented with the newspaper. Kimura conjures an atmosphere of increasing dread as Miyamoto becomes ever more sweaty and paranoid amid the foggy streets of Tokyo before beginning to realise that he may have got his priorities all wrong and should perhaps have paid more attention to what the newspaper had to say before accepting its dubious bargains.


Seven Seas (七つの海, Hiroshi Shimizu, 1931-1932)

vlcsnap-2017-02-19-01h57m24s364Hiroshi Shimizu is best remembered for his socially conscious, nuanced character pieces often featuring sympathetic portraits of childhood or the suffering of those who find themselves at the mercy of society’s various prejudices. Nevertheless, as a young director at Shochiku, he too had to cut his teeth on a number of program pictures and this two part novel adaptation is among his earliest. Set in a broadly upper middle class milieu, Seven Seas (七つの海, Nanatsu no Umi) is, perhaps, closer to his real life than many of his subsequent efforts but notably makes class itself a matter for discussion as its wealthy elites wield their privilege like a weapon.

Split into two parts each around an hour long, Seven Seas begins with the chapter entitled Virginity in which we meet the closely interconnected circle of friends around whom the narrative turns. Yumie (Hiroko Kawasaki) is a young woman from a middle class background but fallen on hard times as her father, a former government official, is now bedridden and supporting the family only on his pension. She is about to announce her engagement to the upperclass boy Yuzuru (Ureo Egawa) but when his playboy brother Takehiko (Joji Oka) returns from abroad he takes a fancy to her himself, eventually raping her whilst she is a guest in their house. Devastated, Yumie’s father marches over to sort things out but even more tragic events occur, breaking the family forever as Yumie’s sister Miwako (Kinuko Wakamizu) has a breakdown and is committed to an asylum. In desperate need of money, Yumie eventually agrees to become the wife of the man who has so brutalised her, though she also contrives to turn the situation to her advantage in an act of revenge.

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Part two is entitled “Chastity” as this is to be Yumie’s primary method of resistance. Refusing her new husband his conjugal rights, Yumie spends his money with gay abandon making huge donations to her sister’s hospital and eventually also providing a kind of “salary” for her husband’s long term mistress whom he has been seeing for some years and had neglected to inform about his marriage. Meanwhile, Yumie’s friend Ayako (Sachiko Murase) has also fallen in love with Yuzuru who is still nursing a broken heart having separated from his family and taken refuge with the couple’s friends working in a sports equipment shop in the city.

Unusually for a Shimizu hero, Yuzuru is an uncomplicated, innately good person who instantly rejects his family following their heinous treatment of the woman he loves, remaining committed to her even after she has been assaulted by his own brother. This decision is, however, difficult as he no longer has access to the familial fortune and has few options for earning his own. He eventually finds work as a French translator but it doesn’t pay enough to make up for all the extra expenses incurred as a result of his brother’s actions from the loss of Yumie’s father’s pension to the ongoing medical costs for her sister’s treatment. Times being what they are, moralising forces creep into the frame suggesting all of this “made right” by Takehiko doing the “honourable” thing and marrying the woman he’s “bought” by force.

The Yagibashi family think they can sweep all of this under the carpet by throwing money at Yumie and otherwise ignoring the problem but this is not good enough for the morality police. Forced to marry her rapist, Yumie maintains an air of cool distain, detailing her plans for vengeance in her daily diary and arming herself with a pistol in case Takehiko tries his old tricks once again. Takehiko, a vain and selfish man, seems to be filled with a kind of resentment born of his class in which he remains a perpetual child controlled by his father who holds all of the purse strings. He does at least attempt to be a proper husband to Yumie, defending her from his snobbish parents and providing her with everything she asks for but he retains his tendency to believe that he can behave however he likes because he’s the eldest son of the wealthy Yagibashi family. Yumie may be reduced in circumstances but thanks to her father’s position would be considered from a “good family”, yet to Takehiko and the Yagibashis she is just another faceless person from the lower orders, unworthy of consideration or compassion and simply one of the exploitable masses.

Takehiko is also the bearer of the frequently ambivalent attitude to the Western world found in many of Shimizu’s other films of the period. Returning from a trip abroad, he belittles another woman in the carriage for her supposed snobbery. Having been abroad, they say, she feels herself superior to ordinary Japanese – unlike the two of them, obviously. Ironically when they arrive Takehiko discovers that the woman in question is the daughter of his former professor, recently returned from studying music in Italy. The other major foreigner we meet is Ayako’s boss at the newspaper where she has a good job as a female reporter. The diffident Englishman attempts to confess his love for her, leaping straight into a proposal. Shocked, Ayako eventually informs him that unfortunately she’s in love with someone else – Yuzuru. Reacting badly, he tries to stop Ayako from leaving but once she does he abruptly shoots himself! Unusual passion for an Englishman, this side of foreignness is a definite cultural difference though one perhaps imbued with a degree of entitlement that also speaks of a kind of oppressive arrogance.

This is however, contrasted with Yuzuru’s gentle career as a translator of French. These creative, cultural influences seem to be broadly positive ones adding to Japan’s already impressive artistic history which brings both pleasure and new ways of thinking which will help the fledgling nation interact with the new global order. The Yagibashis’ dependence on their inherited wealth and social status proves their downfall when they are the subject of an ongoing scandal but the family name is, in part, saved by Yuzuru’s artistic endeavours in turning his traumatic life story into a bestselling, critically acclaimed novel. The creative instinct triumphs over the passivity of the established order.

Remaining mostly straightforward in terms of approach, Shimizu experiments with his trademark tracking shots coupled with dissolves which are unusually impressive and innovative in terms of their setting. The narrative may be melodramatic but the setting is naturalistic, giving an ordinary picture of these upper class and lower middle class lives as people lived them in the early 1930s. From crowded city streets and rooms above shops to spacious country mansions these class divisions are neatly drawn though it’s perhaps interesting that friendship groups have begun to ignore these lines in spite of the differing possibilities offered to each of the differently troubled friends. As in much of Shimizu’s output, the good end happily and the bad unhappily, fulfilling the need for narrative justice as Yumie finds an unusual path for restitution after having been so cruelly misused by those who held her existence so cheaply as to rob her of her future, family and dignity solely because of their own sense of social superiority.