The Green Music Box (緑はるかに, Umetsugu Inoue, 1955)

An incredibly surreal musical kids adventure, The Green Music Box (緑はるかに, Midori Haruka ni) saw the film debut of future Nikkatsu star Ruriko Asaoka who in fact took her stage name from the character she plays in the movie. She was born in Manchuria in 1940 as Nobuko Asai (she retains the first character of her surname but the second “oka” or “hill” is also inspired by the “faraway” in the Japanese title). Her father was a political secretary but the family was extremely poor and her entry into the film world came about through an open audition for the role of Ruriko in the film adaptation of a serialised novel for children by Makoto Hojo which would be produced by Takiko Mizunoe and directed by Umetsugu Inoue. Junichi Nakahara who handled the costume design for the film personally picked Asaoka out from the 3000 applicants reportedly saying “this is the girl” after seeing her in makeup. 

A classic children’s adventure movie, the film nevertheless has a strong theme of loneliness and displacement as each of the young protagonists either has no parents or has in some way been separated from them. Ruriko’s father is a scientist who left for a research project in Hokkaido a year previously and has since stopped responding to her letters. Missing him, Ruriko uses a green music box he had given her as a present as a means of floating off into a surreal dream world on the moon filled with children dressed as bunny rabbits who sing and dance with her. Later she teams up with a trio of orphans who have left their orphanage in search of adventure as well as another girl a little younger than herself, Mami (Noriko Watanabe), who has run away from the countryside to look for her mother in Tokyo. At the film’s conclusion all the children have happy family homes, Mami now living with her mother and the three boys adopted by Ruriko’s family meaning that she’s no longer lonely with her brothers now beside her as they all take a trip to the moon and a nation ruled by love, justice, and peace. 

Before all that, however, Ruriko and her mother are kidnapped by a spy, Tazawa (Kenjiro Uemura), claiming to be a colleague of her father’s. Explaining that Professor Kimura (Minoru Takada) has been taken ill, he bundles the pair into a car but takes them to a secret lab in the middle of nowhere where Kimura is being held and attempts to use them to blackmail him into giving up the scientific research he burned on learning that Tazawa belonged to a foreign power explaining that his creation could greatly benefit the world if used peacefully but cause great destruction if not. He manages to sneak the key to his research into Ruriko’s music box and tells her to escape with it though at the film’s conclusion he’ll decide to burn it anyway resolving that it’s too dangerous were it to end up in the wrong hands. 

Such dark events are not exactly unusual in children’s films, though the level of violence is surprising. Ruriko’s mother is taken off and hanged by her wrists while the foreign spies whip her. Though much of it occurs off screen, the whip cracks and screams are audible to Ruriko and her father while we also see her spin and twist, writhing in agony before falling silent perhaps having died as Ruriko comes to infer from the eerie quiet. Later, during the chaos at a circus which is also a front for international espionage a large goon slams the head of one of the children, Fatty (Hideaki Ishii), repeatedly into a table though he appears relatively unhurt and soon fights back cartoonishly by hitting him on the head with an iron bar. 

It’s not really clear why the spies operate out of a weird circus which is also seemingly guilty of copyright infringement given the various Disney-inspired papier-mâché masks lying around, but it is strangely scary for something meant to entertain small children including a surreal performance by Frankie Sakai in a brief cameo as a clown beckoning the kids towards the circus tent. The film was also Nikkatsu’s first colour movie using the short-lived Konicolor method and has a slightly sickly, washed out effect that lends an additional layer of discomfort to the brightly decorated circus environment. In any case, Ruriko and her friends are eventually able to triumph, regaining the music box and even convincing the police that the circus guys really are foreign spies even if it’s partly down to the otherwise unexplained reappearance of her parents who are in fact alive and well. In some ways melancholy, appealing to a sense of loneliness in post-war children who either may have become orphaned or are otherwise separated from their parents, the film ends on a more hopeful note in championing the sense of family that emerges between the children themselves through generational solidarity in offering a happy ending that might seem overly optimistic but nevertheless returns the kids to the kingdom of the Moon Queen and a happy world of love, justice, and peace. 


The Ceiling at Utsunomiya (怪異宇都宮釣天井, Nobuo Nakagawa, 1956)

Crime does not pay for a series of conspirators at the centre of Nobuo Nakagawa’s supernaturally-inflected historical tale, The Ceiling at Utsunomiya (怪異宇都宮釣天井, Kaii Utsunomiya Tsuritenjo). As the title implies, Nakagawa’s ominous jidaigeki is inspired by a historical legend in which a retainer supposedly attempted to assassinate the shogun through the rather elaborate device of a mechanical ceiling designed to crush him as he slept. In actuality no such thing took place, the shogun changed his route and subsequent investigations of Utsunomiya Castle found no sign of a false ceiling, yet the story took on a life of its own as local folklore. 

In this version of the tale, conspirators Councillor Kawamura (Ureo Egawa) and local yakuza Kagiya (Masao Mishima) are conspiring to depose Tokugawa Iemitsu (Yoichi Numata) in favour of his brother, manipulating Lord Honda (Shuntaro Emi) of Utsunomiya Castle by convincing him that his clan will prosper when the other retainers fall in behind the new shogun. The pair have arranged for nine talented craftsmen to be shut up in the castle to install “the mechanism” in time for the arrival of the shogun who is due to stay at the castle on his way to Nikko. Meanwhile, Kawamura is also intent on sleeping with the daughter of head carpenter Toemon (Yoji Misaki), Ofuji (Konomi Fuji), whom chief minion Tenzen (Tetsuro Tamba) is supposed to kidnap once the workmen have gone into isolation in the castle. Righteous samurai Ryutaro (Hiroshi Ogasawara) however, an undercover shogunate bodyguard, begins to disrupt their plan saving Ofuji while bonding with a friendly bar hostess, Onobu (Sachiko Toyama), and secret princess forest woman Oshino (Akemi Tsukushi). 

The plot represents in itself a malfunctioning of the feudal order in the essential weakness of Lord Honda, the ambition of his underling Kawamura, and the cruel greed of Kagiya. As the two men conspire, Kagiya jokingly laments that he isn’t a samurai while Kawamura reminds him that if the plan comes off he’ll be fantastically rich. Kagiya, a yakuza who sends his thugs to extort protection money from the local market, is representation of the threat of the rising merchant class whose financial power presents a challenge to the authority of the samurai. Toemon, meanwhile, a master craftsman, is manipulated into participating in the plan because he is in debt to Kagiya, later promised that he too will be “promoted” in being given permission to carry a sword little knowing that Kawamura and Kagiya not only plan to kidnap and rape his daughter but never intend to allow any of the craftsmen to live because they simply know too much. 

The Ceiling at Utsunomiya is not a ghost story in the manner for which Nakagawa is best known but it certainly plays like one, Kagiya eventually haunted by the figure of a betrayed Toemon which in turn leads him to a self-destructive attack on Tenzen and his eventual demise collapsed over his ill-gotten gains, a koban falling from his hand. Greed and violence will only repay in the same, the weak-willed Lord getting his comeuppance from the ever confident shogun even if he himself coolly stands back while others risk their lives to protect him. Even so, the eventual operation of “the mechanism” is intensely startling, the ceiling abruptly collapsing with alarming ferocity though one wonders what the advantage is in such an expensive, elaborate contraption aside from its ironic symbolism when the point of a sword will do. 

Then again, the heroic Ryutaro is almost assassinated while crossing a river via zip wire later fished out of the river by sullen forest woman Oshino, first encountered hunting birds with darts but later revealed to be the illegitimate child of samurai parents who fell foul of political intrigue. In a sense this revelation emphasises the restoration of the political order, Ryutaro permitted to fall in love with Oshino because they are of the same social class, while the romance between Ofuji and craftsman Yoshichi (Kotaro Sugiyama) also comes to fruition eliding the minor class difference between them in allowing the boss’ protege to marry the now orphaned daughter. Onobu meanwhile pays heavy price for her misplaced love for Ryutaro, denied romantic fulfilment in her liminal existence as a bar hostess. In any case, the corruption is exorcised and the normal order resumes reinforcing the hierarchical shogunate society with each of the players back in their rightful positions and possessing new hope for the future as Ryutaro and the shogun continue their tour while their former comrades kneel at the roadside.