The humanity viewed through a doomed P.O.V.
It’s difficult to watch Humanity and Paper Balloons without
feeling complete empathy for the director, Yamanaka Sadao. This film has been
regarded as a premonition of the director’s own untimely death and what lies behind
this dark and dreary jidaigeki are his true feelings for a society that lacks
the humanity it sorely needs.
In a time when the politics of Japan
were becoming increasingly militaristic, Yamanaka Sadao had surrounded himself
with leftist sympathizers and continued to make films that subtly satirized
those in power. Humanity and Paper
Balloons itself was adapted and filmed by Yamanaka with the knowledge that
he would soon be shipped out to China to
join the war; one may argue, after watching this film that he also knew he
would never return. When he was saying his farewells at Kyoto station he
gave no indication of national support or encouragement of the war, his last
words were, “it’s all over”. Knowing this story prior to your first viewing of Humanity and Paper Balloons will make
those words haunt you throughout its entirety.
The film tells the tale of Unno, a cowardly ronin (masterless samurai) who tries to use his father’s reputation
to gain employment and a crafty barber, Shinza who attempts to raise his status
in the neighborhood. Both characters are examples of the lower classes that
Yamanaka clearly sided with and each faces their own trails concerning their
lot in life, namely concerning their attempts to challenge the upper classes.
Unno directs his efforts into shadowing and stalking a samurai, badgering him
on every occasion into taking him into his employ and consequently is shunned
and lied to in every attempt. Shinza on the other hand arranges gambling events
behind the local oyabun’s (yakuza
boss) back and is repeated scalded and punished for his attempts.
Unno is eventually murdered by his wife, a woman that he lies to
constantly, who then kills herself in turn. The very fact that he did not take
his own life, a supposedly noble death for a shamed samurai, but rather let his
wife perform the task only gives further emphasis to the image of a failed man.
This death is also reminiscent of a suicide at the beginning of the film, an
old samurai who had to sell his own blade to pay for food commits suicide by
hanging himself in his house. As he had no sword he was unable to perform seppuku
correctly and thus the film’s end is securely bookmarked with Unno’s death and
comes full circle.
Shinza, as opposed to the apathetic character of Unno, is driven and
motivated to seek what he believes he deserves. He challenges the so-called authorities
with his gambling events but when he goes as far as kidnapping the local
money-lender’s daughter it is no longer himself that he is concerned with but
rather removing the power from those who deem themselves his betters. He shames
the oyabun, and gives hope to the
neighborhood that the men at the top are only human. This does not end well for
the tragic hero and he meets his fate during a fight with the yakuza in the
outskirts of town, once more crushed by the authority that controls all.
The issue of humanity, the namesake of the film, is raised through the
interactions of those in power and those who are not. A traditional view of an upper-class
member of society is said to possess both humanity and a sense of duty. It is
clear that the figureheads of the upper class seen in Humanity and Paper Balloons hold neither of these traits in high
regard but are rather presented as shallow, deceitful, selfish and treacherous.
Although that’s not to say that these characteristics are non-existent in the
film. Shinza shows on more than one occasion to hold such qualities. At one
point he steps in when Unno is being savagely beaten and his very need to
displace the local yakuza boss is for the benefit of the neighborhood rather than
the individual. It would appear that in Yamanaka’s world the vestiges of
humanity are present in regular people that are in no way privileged in their position.
Yamanaka’s filming techniques drive home the emotion of the film. The
humor that the director has shown in other pieces is pulled back for Humanity and Paper Balloons and in its
stead are dark scenes of alleyways, drab mud surroundings and melancholic
weather. Another noticeable withdrawal is the lack of visual action. A common chanbara film would be filled with
scenes of the hero fighting bravely but Yamanaka makes a point about removing
such scenes from this piece. Why are
we not shown the main actions of the film? What are we shown instead? The fact
is the visuals of fighting, kidnapping and deaths are not important; what we
see is society’s reaction to the actions. Deprived of actually seeing these
hidden scenes in the privileged seat of the voyeur we become part of the small
living quarters of the townspeople and thus understand the injustice depicted
on an emotional and personal level.
The mortar of this film runs deep with Yamanaka Sadao's mental state. It is true that many others put a lot of their own personal input into Humanity and Paper Balloons but all those involved were in consensus of its purpose. Humanity may very well weigh as much as a paper balloon and human life can be blown away just as easily.
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