A Descendant of Urashima Taro

[Dan Sallitt]

A depressing movie, seemingly made to order for Japan's American
occupiers, and more thoroughly proof against artistic expression than
anything Naruse had imposed upon him during the war. Imagine the
story of Capra/Riskin's MEET JOHN DOE, with all its behavioral flair
removed - in fact, with all behavior removed, and no time at all
devoted to characterization - and the gap filled with endless
repetition of Capra/Riskin's empty political sloganeering. The title
character, a bearded veteran (Susumu Fujita) recently returned from 16
months on a Pacific island, draws public attention with his Howard
Beale-like yelling on a radio show, and is in quick succession made
famous by a rookie reporter (Hideko Takamine) and expropriated by a
political party intent on covering up its shady intentions. The
veteran is seduced by the cult surrounding his personality and by an
unwholesome businessman's daughter (Hisako Yamane), but finally
recovers his lost integrity via public self-abasement. Actually, it's
not easy to tell the difference between the veteran's pre-corruption
and post-corruption selves, both revealed via the same scrupulously
vague pro-democracy sloganeering. Hard to believe that the hopeless
script was the work of Yasutarô Yagi, writer of many of Tomu Uchida's
most celebrated films, including the subtle 1955 A HOLE OF ONE'S OWN
MAKING. But Naruse really doesn't acquit himself much better. He
can't gain any traction with the blustery non-characterizations; and,
though he manages an occasional pleasing composition, even his usual
visual facility is submerged by a shadow-heavy, Soviet-looking
lighting scheme and bare cavernous sets. Mostly he seems to be
playing along with the project, cross-cutting and changing shot length
without inspiration; at times he retreats to remote long shots and
seems too weary to alter them in reaction to story events. (The
production had at its disposal a crude zoom lens, and Naruse
experiments with it a little, especially at the climax, with no
particular benefit or harm.) Strangely, the film's most interesting
scene is a derisive one, of a weird solo dance performance at a
plutocrats' party, with the guests wearing fish-head masks. Naruse
cuts away from the dance at random times to show partygoers walking
around (or out), or to extreme long shots that are held to the point
of lethargy. Whether Naruse is working with the film's satirical
agenda or indulging in a bit of sabotage, the scene is reminiscent of
Gerd Oswald in its spooky, desolate campiness.