My son plays on the lawn,
a tulip in bloom beside him...
the same sadness stirs.
The film is steeped in desperation — a marriage devoid of love and respect, unreturned affection, separation from children, illness, and death. It takes a bit of courage to endure it. At the same time, the complexity of the heroine and the depth of the narrative are striking. She struggles to be a good wife, carefully concealing her true emotions. Poetry flows naturally from…
“He who is without sin, let him cast the first stone.”
Those who have stumbled sometimes need a little acceptance and grace to find their way back. Nations do, too.
It was brave to raise such a delicate subject in the 1950s — despite the collective shame. This shifts the issue from the realm of personal guilt to that of a social crisis and forced compromises.
“All of us Japanese are responsible for the war. And all of us struggled…
“It’s a hard world for little things.”
Blood runs cold. I’m struck by the overall style, the varied interpretations of relationships with God, and the clarity of the decisive night’s resolution, which is the film’s most powerful and haunting sequence. In the midst of fear, there is kindness — the only thing that truly stands against the darkness — quiet and respectful, yet unwavering, with a gun ready to shoot. Lillian Gish is exceptional in this role.
“Children are man…
“Lesson - gap. Lesson - gap. Lesson - gap. Lesson - gap. Lesson - gap. Lesson - gap. Lesson - gap. Lesson -gap. Lesson - gap…”
Despite the eccentricity and quirks of the characters, there’s something deeply human and honest about them. Amid the absurdity and improbability of the situations, there’s a familiarity that evokes empathy. Despite the film’s pessimism and darkness, kindness and humor are surprisingly woven throughout.
Although this genre isn’t typically close to my heart, it feels as though I’ve stepped into a unique universe here. That matters for cinematography.
