| To quote Bokuzen Hidari's character:
“My oh my.” Certainly, it is not something
we’ve come to expect from Akira
Kurosawa. The Lower Depths is a period
piece, as usual, but it is both devoid of the
dramatic lives of clan samurai and the roguish
existence of misplaced ronin. Instead it is a
look at the seething underbelly of 19th century
Edo (Tokyo), created in the model of an early
20th century Russian play (by the same name) about
the plight of the proletariat. A gritty, realistic,
and often bleak portrayal of the poor (wrapped
in the shell of a pitch-black comedy), The
Lower Depths is an often castigated film
in Kurosawa’s portfolio… perhaps due
to the unorthodox, play-like approach to its composition.
Nevertheless, it still stands out as one of Kurosawa’s
better classics and an interesting change-of-pace
for the director.
In a rubbish heap of a tenement in the bowls
of Edo, several downtrodden, hard-on-there luck
cases try to irk out a meager existence with what
little they can. Gamblers, thieves, prostitutes,
and the like live their lives from penny to penny,
from one jar of sake to the next.
One day, the landlady’s sister,
Okayo, brought a mysterious old man named Kahei
to the tenement. “Gramps”, as he would
come to be known, became the watchful observer
of a twisted web of tragic romance between resident
thief Sutekuchi and the sinister landlady Osugi.
The master thief had been, for some time, locked
in an affair with the landlord Rokubei’s
wife. Sutekuchi was fazing out his affection for
the bitter woman, preferring her younger, far
more tolerable sister. Mad with jealousy, Osugi
desired to conspire with Sutekuchi to murder her
husband (which would, in turn, lead to the banishment
of her unfaithful lover), but he would have no
part of it, seeing through her seductive deceit.
Rokubei soon discovered the affair, and due to
his own inability to hold his tongue, he almost
became the victim of Sutekuchi’s rage; if
not for the helpful interloping of Gramps.
Though Okayo, at first, wouldn’t
offer Sutekuchi even the faintest hint of the
time of day, she started to come around as time
went on, but Rokubei and Osugi’s temper
compelled them to beat and severely injure Okayo.
The inhabitants of the tenement infiltrated the
landlord’s home in order to save Okayo,
and Sutekuchi’s anger swelled to an all
time high when he learned of Okayo’s mistreatment.
Unfortunately, in the ensuing chaos, Rokubei was
killed, and Osugi placed the blame squarely on
her ex-lover’s shoulders. Sutekuchi fought
back, claiming that Osugi had beguiled him to
kill her husband, and upon hearing this, Okayo’s
faint love for Sutekuchi ran ice cold. She placed
the blame on both of them, and it was clear that
they would all soon face tribunal.
Strangely enough,
the above plot is actually almost a subplot in
the course of the story. The Lower Depths
is really a carefully crafted web that reveals
the interwoven lives of the many downtrodden inhabitants
of the tenement. It is somewhat alinear in this
fashion, the anticlimax being one keen example.
Though the technical plot of the film has ended
after what appears to be the climax, life in the
slums goes on. It is in this way that the movie
seems to convey dozens of themes and messages
to the viewer, as the composition of the film
isn’t forced to follow a traditional path.
The thin line of reality (a prominent feature
in Kurosawa films), for example, is one message,
especially emphasized when Osen rebukes the former
samurai’s claim to grace. The need to be
mindful of consequences is a theme reflected in
Yoshisaburo’s tragic past, but more often
shown through the interaction between Sutekuchi
and Rokubei (rage one second, murder the next).
There is also the need for compassion, which is
a message that encompasses Gramps’ whole
purpose in the film. The role of women and men
in the tenement also becomes a theme worth mentioning,
as it is a peculiar foil to the style shown in
other Kurosawa period pieces. Whereas in other
Kurosawa films depicting
this time period, the woman often takes the inglorious,
dutiful role… it is clearly turned on its
head here. It is an intriguing theme, as it shows
how different gender matters at the lowest rung
of society. In an interesting twist, anecdotal
evidence of Otaki taking out her rage on her husband
physically also presents a clear difference in
how some things work in the “lower depths”.
Finally, as far as themes go, there is a little
message about how even in the dimmest of places,
there is a glimmer of hope in optimism…
and a little lightheartedness can blossom in even
the roughest soil. With that in mind, one can
surely find it prudent to label The Lower
Depths a comedy. Often, it is the innumerable
one-liners that cause the audience to giggle.
There is Gramps’ assessment of the former
samurai’s current condition: “Your
fall from grace landed you flat on your a**.”
There is the actor, who in his perpetual drunkenness
can never seem to quite pronounce “vital
organs”, and there is also his peppering
of witty stage clichés in his dialogue:
“Stop blocking the runway, we’re making
our dramatic exit”. The main character,
Sutekuchi, also has some humorous moments. His
shrill mocking of Tomekichi: “I’m
a craftsman!” and his inability to comprehend
Okayo’s revulsion of his profession
being two examples. And of course, there is the
last line of the movie, which is ironically hilarious,
despite just how grim the situation is.
It is clear in this regard that
the film itself is very character based, so success
in the human area is absolutely essential. I’d
say, pound for pound, the acting in this film
is brilliant if, for anything, its compelling
realism. Not only is this true, but the character
development is also keen in its detail (and in
the sheer number of characters whose personality,
we as the audience, come to clearly define). Toshiro
Mifune is given the untraditional (for him,
at least) role of a common thief. Though a move
unfairly castigated because of the actor’s
indelible dignity, he brings an anti-hero air
of charm to his performance… and a break-lose
style that wouldn’t again be seen in its
entirety until Yojimbo
(1961) and Sanjuro
(1962). Really, though, this isn’t entirely
his story. One could easily make a claim that
it’s everyone’s tale, but The
Lower Depths is the type of movie that makes
the audience a fly-on-the-wall to the inner workings
of the social lower class. In this regard, it
is Haruo Tanaka who really steals the show, as
the audience can more thoroughly relate him as
the outside observer. Kahei (“Gramps”)
is mysterious, to say the least. His past is a
virtual mystery, although it is clear that his
former life wasn’t an entirely easy one,
especially when he admits that he was a “stone
beside a stream”, eroded and made proverbially
“smooth”. He is the kindest, most
likeable character in the course of the story.
His character eases the ailing Asa into passing,
shines a ray of hope on the actor’s future,
offers a humble ear to Osen’s stories, and
lifts the overall mood of the dilapidated complex.
Tanaka’s gentle expressions, easy tones,
and graceful movements bring to his role a satisfying
demeanor… and help the audience to realize
he’s more than just someone who’s
just passing on through.
Koji Mitsui, who plays Yoshisaburo,
brings a certain comic relief to his character.
His line delivery is excellent in this regard,
especially his reaction to the death at the end
of the movie: “It was such a great party.
Then he had to go and ruin it. Bastard!”
Akemi Negishi, who is given the role of the emotionally-challenged
prostitute Osen, has a great underlying charm
to her character… if only for her tearful
resilience and daydreamy nature. Kamatari Fujiwara,
the actor, is the epitome of the comic relief,
complaining often about how alcohol has poisoned
his “bitol” organs. However, as time
progresses, it is clear that he is among the most
tragic of the cast. His inability to even remember
his favorite lines from his days as an actor,
and Fujiwara’s ability to reflect the torment
and frustration of this inability through his
expressions, are truly heartbreaking. The admirable
dignity he reveals when he recites his lines is
also the audience’s deepest gaze into his
past, and shows the extent of his descent into
the “lower depths”. Minoru Chiaki’s
character, like the actor, has fallen from a level
of pride as well. This character claims to have
once been a samurai in the service of the clan.
In the tenement, he is a comically antagonistic
presence; although, it is his interaction with
Negishi’s character that becomes center
stage, especially when she turns the tables on
him through the irony of questioning his
past. Of the prominent protagonists, Eijiro Tono
and Eiko Miyoshi remain. Tono’s character,
the cruel self-tormented “craftsman”
Tomekichi, is one that invokes revulsion in the
audience at first (due to the treatment of his
wife). As the film progresses his spirit softens,
and although it appears as though his subplot
is far from center-stage, his decision to finally
give in, accept, and almost embrace what little
pleasure he can find in his down-in-the-dumps
life presents another interesting theme. Miyoshi’s
performance as his dying wife is one that is truly
unnerving, due to the astonishing realism in her
voice and actions. It is her interaction with
other characters that almost always works to pronounce
their personality traits. Her interaction with
“Gramps” comes into play to quickly
define the fine quality of his character, and
her interaction with Tomekichi shows just how
despicable her husband is in the beginning of
the film. As for the villains, Isuzu Yamada’s
character is the most prominent, and the most
domineering in the film. The actress gives such
a cold, grim performance that it accentuates the
sheer evil of the landlady Osugi. Her seductive
charms and sinister nature are very well acted,
and Yamada often steals the show from Mifune.
Finally, there is Ganjiro Nakamura. He brings
to his role a very dark, heavy, almost “reptilian”
presence that gives his character (whose dialogue
confirms this twisted demeanor) an air of severe
loathing. As time goes on, his facial expressions
almost become comical, especially as it becomes
clear that his character is not the worst, but
instead it is instead Rokubei’s wife who
is the true antagonist in the plot.
There are other, less prominent
actors throughout the film, and unfortunately,
it is a little jarring to see their development
only start to take form near the end of the movie.
Haruo Tanaka’s character, despite how often
he’s used in the film, is actually developed
rather poorly. This is perhaps the one great flaw
in the human element of the film. Regardless,
of the remaining actors, there is still one final
person who deserves mention. Yu Fujiki’s
character is certainly the most flamboyant and
fun of the less prominent roles in the film. Of
course, I’m biased… I’ve been
a King
Kong vs. Godzilla (1962) fan for a very
long time, and his antics in that movie have stuck
with me very well. In this film, Fujiki’s
wacky actions greatly set him apart among the
lesser roles.
While the human element may be
the strongest part of the film; the visuals, while
certainly far from the most prominent aspect of
the film, are still worthy of mention. The sets
are pretty minimalist in The Lower Depths,
but even still, the cinematography is fairly impressive
here. What really shocked me was just how long
some of the takes were (I found myself thinking
that I’d never be able to stay serious forthat
long). Of course, this movie is meant
to reflect theatre, so it isn’t too unexpected.
The zooms and pans are fairly flawless too, especially
taking into account the relatively smooth 360-degree
effect at the start of the film. Concerning more
physical aspects of movie, the lighting is excellently
executed, considering what the main set was supposed
to reflect (a dank, dark tenement). The outside
shots are also well done, although one could complain
that in black-and-white, the background during
Osen’s recitation looked a little strange
and distracting, especially considering the position
of the actors. Other than that, there really isn’t
too much on which to comment. The set treatment
isn’t very lavish, but again, considering
this film is almost basically theatre on film,
it isn’t all that surprising.
When one sees Masaru
Sato in the billing for music, one can often
expect a flamboyant, almost zany track to accompany
the film. However, with The Lower Depths,
this is far from the case. There are really only
two tracks in the entire film. The first is the
music that plays during the opening scene, during
the 360-degree pan of the slums. To put it simply,
these are single notes of heavy percussion (bells)
played at sparse intervals, certainly not much
of anything. The second form of music in the film
is the “fool music”. Basically a vulgar
jab at the bleakness of a money-centric existence,
what really makes it special is just how funny
it sounds (especially the parts Koji Mitsui sings).
In a way, the song adds to the realism, as it
isn’t anything lavish or complex (nor is
it complimented with anything but a simple drum),
so it isn’t at all jarring when the actors
break out into song. However, a little more music
would have been nice, especially considering Sato’s
excellent record.
Enigmatically humorous, bleak,
and thematic simultaneously, The Lower Depths
is one of Kurosawa’s less-prominent films,
one that often places its fans in a defensive
stance. In contrast to many, I would claim that
it is simply phenomenal, and that once the audience
gets around the unorthodox set up, they can find
a true gem in there. Packed with character and
charm, The Lower Depths is one of Kurosawa’s
greats, and easily warrants multiple viewings.
|
(4.5/5)