Japanese Film

『言語情報科学第13号　2015年3月』本稿は、アジア太平洋戦争直後の東京における戦災復興を考察する。本稿が対象とす るのは、都市計画そのものや政府の政策等ではなく、戦災復興期の東京を描いた二本の 映画である。一つは『20 年後の東京』という東京都都市計画課が作成した PR 映画であり、もう一つは黒澤明が監督した『野良犬』である。
東京の戦災復興計画を宣伝する『20 年後の東京』がその計画の思想を伝える際に用い るレトリックを分析し、その背後にある植民地都市経営の経験とそれを「民主的」という言葉で覆い隠し、計画の正当性を偽装する態度を読み取る。また計画の障害として語 られる闇市を取り上げ、その復興期における役割を評価した上で映画の言説との齟齬を 明らかにする。そして、その闇市を映画の主要な空間として取り込んだ『野良犬』が、 その空間にいかなる役割を担わせているかを主人公の復員兵・村上を通して考察する。
本稿は都市を語る上で帝国主義の過去を忘却しようとする言説に対して、抗う拠点と しての闇市という空間を位置付けることを目的とする。

1ª sesión del curso "Rashômon y su contexto. Análisis del cine de Kurosawa", celebrado on-line y patrocinado por la Fundación japón en España. Para preservar los derechos de autor, he recortado el audio de dos fragmentos: el 1º es la escena final del parque del protagonista de IKIRU (VIVIR, A. Kurosawa, 1952) en la que cante la triste canción...; y la 2ª es el principio de LA FORTALEZA ESCONDIDA (Kakushi-toride no san-akunin, A. Kurosawa, 1958) que comparo con STAR WARS (G. Lucas, 1977).

Oshima Nagisa’s film Nihon no Yoru to Kiri (Night and Fog in Japan, 1960, Japan), the last he would make with the Shochiku film studio, documents a pivotal moment in postwar Japanese history without the use of any actuality footage.1 In lieu of newsreel documentation, it takes the form of what Sato Tadao calls a “discussion drama” or “drama dialogue,” in which two generations of student protest movements are allegorized and rendered theatrical.2 Through its idiosyncratic use of mise-en-scène and cinematography, Oshima’s film stages the rift between two anti-imperialist factions of the Japanese left: the Stalinist generation of the 1950s, known as the Old Left, and what would become known as the New Left, the younger students protesting the Japan-US Security Treaty, called ANPO in Japanese (Nichibei Anzen Hoshou Jouyaku), in 1960.

40 S eijun suzuki was a Japanese filmmaker who found himself in a very similar position in the 1960s to the American film noir directors that came decades before him: he was under contract at a major studio (in his case Nikkatsu Studios) and expected to provide a high volume of B-List films to pad out the production. With a very limited budget, and strict time constraint, he made an astonishing 40 films between 1956 and 1967. Whilst at a forum honouring his work in Los Angeles in 1997, Suzuki spoke very frankly about his time at Nikkatsu: Nikkatsu Studios released two movies per week. The scripts were already written and those scripts were passed down to the direc-tors[…]The schedule was tight[…] two movies a week. On average, we only had 25 days for shooting the film and three days for editing and sound mixing. A whole production usually took place in 28 days. (The Japan Foundation) These constraints allowed Suzuki, like the noir directors that came before him, some space to explore the tropes in the genre films he was assigned. Whilst it could be argued that his earlier work with Nikkatsu was comparatively generic when put next to his last dozen or so films with Nikkatsu Studios, his latter projects were constantly pushing the boundaries of contemporary cinema. These experimental films amazed a small audience and while profitable, made the studios executives increasingly nervous. Suzuki was finally fired from Nikkatsu after releasing Branded to Kill in 1967, and he retaliated by suing the production company. He won the court case, but effectively found himself-black listed for a decade from all the major movie studios in Japan. His third to last film with Nikkatsu (and the beginning of the tipping point of his status at the studio), was Tokyo Drifter, a 1966 film that bent the expectations of the yakuza genre to breaking point. It was surreal in its use of colour, framing, and editing. It used exaggerated tropes from Western pulp fiction, while retaining a sense of being wholly Japanese. The lead character is silent, focused and untameable like a P.I. torn from ABSTRACT Seijun Suzuki is an oft-overlooked Japanese filmmaker who evolved from a studious, hardworking genre filmmaker, to a director who wilfully contorted tropes and rules he had spent years learning. In his heyday, he worked for Nikkatsu Studios, and made 40 films for them in the space of just 15 years. In 1967, he was unceremoniously fired from Nikkatsu after releasing Branded to Kill, now a cult classic that garners critical acclaim, which was deemed nonsensical and unprofitable by the head of Nikkatsu, Kyusaku Hori. Tokyo Drifter was the third to last film Suzuki made with Nikkatsu, and its psychedelic colour palette, lack of continuity, and counter-intuitive framing and editing confused and annoyed Suzuki's bosses. It caused so much tension that Suzuki was ordered to recreate the final scene, which is far more action-packed than his original vision, but no less strange. This paper tries to break down this rushed reshoot, and argues that some of Suzuki's original ideas remain, albeit in a very coded manner.

An essay looking at three films featuring Yakuza gangs in post-war Japanese cinema, each made by a director who would find fame outside of the genre; Drunken Angel (Kurosawa, 1948), Black River (Kobayashi, 1957) and Pigs and Battleships (Imamura, 1961).

Throughout Kore-eda Hirokazu’s films, a series of themes related to death, memory or the assumption of loss are repeated are repeated, often in relation to a paternal figure. From Dare mo shiranai (No Body Knows, 2004), through Hana yori mo naho (Hana, 2006), Aruitemo aruitemo (Still Walking, 2008), Kiseki (I Wish, 2011), Soshite chichi ni naru (LIke Father, Like Son, 2013), Umimachi Diary (Our Little Sister, 2015), until his last premiered film Umi yorimo mada fukaku (After the Storm, 2016), we find an absent father that causes a series of dramatic daily hecatombs in the life of their families. Kore-eda is often compared to the classic filmmaker Ozu Yasujiro for his sober staging, a mythomania often fed by Kore-eda himself; but beyond this tutor sense, where is the symbolic father of his master’s films? In this paper, I will analyze some representative scenes of symbolic violence that this absence causes in children.


Resumen
A lo largo de la filmografía del cineasta japonés Kore-eda Hirokazu se repiten una serie de temas relacionados con la muerte, la memoria o la asunción de la pérdida, a menudo en relación a una figura paterna. Desde Dare mo shiranai (Nadie sabe, 2004), pasando por Hana yori mo naho (Hana, 2006), Aruitemo aruitemo (Caminando, 2008), Kiseki (Milagro, 2011), Soshite chichi ni naru (De tal padre, tal hijo, 2013), Umi yori mo mada fukakuaka (Nuestra hermana pequeña, 2015), hasta su último film estrenado Umi yorimo mada fukaku (Después de la tormenta, 2016), nos encontramos con un padre ausente que provoca toda una serie de dramáticas hecatombes cotidianas en la vida de sus familiares. Kore-eda suele ser comparado con el cineasta clásico Ozu Yasujiro por su puesta en escena sobria, una mitomanía alimentada a menudo por el propio Kore-eda; pero más allá de este sentido tutor ¿dónde ha quedado el padre simbólico de los filmes de su maestro? En este análisis voy a deletrear algunas escenas representativas de violencia simbólica que esta ausencia provoca en el niño.

The visualizations of the cosmos in Japanese culture are connected with the vision presented in Nihongi, the chronicle of Japan. The universe described in the foundation myth was the source of inspiration for Japanese artists through ages. The unique collection of myths also had an influence on the avant-garde directors, among whom the author of this article chose Takahiko Iimura, Takashi Ito and Takashi Makino. The mentioned artists represent three generations of filmmakers,
who used the vision of space to transfer metaphysical meaning. Using experimental techniques, they search for new interpretations of the mythical stories and show to their viewers the unusual depths of the abstract, whirling supernovas.

Gender ambiguity has been widely researched in relation to Japanese art. Readers will probably be familiar with images of the wakashu (the androgynous male youth) and the phenomenon of the onnagata (male actors performing female roles in the Kabuki theatre). This essay would like to investigate a phenomenon set in more recent times and in relatively new media, namely, the representation of the transgender character in Japanese film. Matsumoto Toshio’s Bara no sōretsu (The funeral parade of roses) of 1969 will be used as a case study to present different readings and approaches.

Cinematic depictions of children-in family dramas, in horror films, in romantic comedies that so often end in weddings and the promise of birth-have long presented an image of something that must be nurtured and protected, a single body standing in for a collective sense of hope for the future. The threats depicted in such films, be they extreme forms of violence or simply the dissolution of a family unit, have the potential to inflict the most harm on children, and it is thus in the name of children that humanity must be defended. What happens, then, when the child itself is a force of destruction and death? When the figure of the child and the monster are merged in a way that forces adult figures to shun and even destroy that which they are otherwise meant to embrace? This question lies at the heart of several recent Japanese horror films that feature monstrous child figures. In their depiction of children as vengeful ghosts and perpetrators of violence, these films invite an examination of the historical and cultural significance of both the child and the monster in Japan, as well as how the use of each figure intersects with periods of change and crisis.

Histoire@Politique, Politique, culture, société (Revue scientifique du Centre d’histoire de Sciences Po), « Comptes rendus – ouvrages »,
http://www.histoire-politique.fr/index.php?numero=31&rub=comptes-rendus&item=627
Mis en ligne le 23 mai 2017

In the mid-1960s, five Japanese women (the Chianti Five), in conjunction with a coterie of primarily male musicians, actors and artists, would combine the drive and energy of middle-class aspirational teenagers with the refined creativity of a new post-war Tokyo cultural elite, to produce what in retrospect can be called a Tokyo version of “Swinging London.” Taking a biographically-based narrative approach, the article examines how each of these five women, through their mutual friendship, artistic expression and connections with Japan’s most popular pop group, The Tigers, adapted and transformed the music, fashion and lifestyle revolution embodied by the UK movement to the Tokyo context. While not a purely comparative study, the exploration presented here uses as a reference, the main socio-cultural components of the UK’s movement to explore the extent to which the Japanese version had a comparable impact on mainstream domestic popular culture.

An article about the author Edogawa Rampo and the film adaptations of his work.


From Intellect website "Ask anyone in Japan who the most influential writer of mystery and detective fiction in their country is and they will probably come back to you with the name of Edogawa Rampo."

2009 a magyar–japán diplomáciai kapcsolatok kettős évfordulója: 140 éve annak, hogy 1869-ben az Osztrák–Magyar Monarchia és a Japán Császárság diplomáciai viszonyt létesített egymással, és idén lesz kereken fél évszázada annak is, hogy a Magyar Népköztársaság 1959-ben felújította Japánnal a második világháború vége óta szünetelő kapcsolatokat. Ez a kötet maga is egy kétoldalú együttműködési projekt eredménye, hiszen a téma magyar és japán kutatói fogtak össze a létrehozásáért. Érdekessége, és az írások hitelességét növeli, hogy a szerzők közül többen nem csak kutatói és krónikásai az eseményeknek, hanem különböző posztokon és szerepekben (diplomata, külkereskedő, műfordító, tanár, hittérítő, néptáncos, zenekutató stb.) maguk is aktív részesei a kétoldalú kapcsolatok előmozdításának.

Note that these are page proofs, and my middle name (Blakeley) is misspelled!

In Michael K. Bourdaghs, Hoyt Long, and Reginald Jackson, ed., Performance and Japanese Literature (Vol. 15, Proceedings of the Association for Japanese Literary Studies, 2014), pp. 49-57.

The paper examines how  Akira Kurosawa used Noh theater in his film Throne of Blood, via just one example: the opening and closing chanting sequence. The wider argument is that although there are studies that elucidate Kurosawa’s sources (especially his use of Noh masks, based on Kurosawa’s own comments) or that make generalized comments about Noh (often stereotypes) meant to clarify Kurosawa’s appropriations, because the scholars do not really understand Noh, or the Buddhist underpinnings of Noh, they do not see how Kurosawa has translated those literary and visual sources to achieve very different effects.

It is clear that the Japanese film up until the 1930s displayed a very characteristic “national style” which differed from the West.  Silent films were largely influenced by the traditional Japanese performing art known as kabuki.  Intrinsic to these early silent films was the presence of a physical narrator, the benshi, which has had a lasting influence to the present day.  Cinematic techniques were used in different ways and for different purposes.  Early reform of the Japanese film industry, in addition, to making film more realistic and accessible for the working classes also allowed women to participate in film and for an entirely new genre of film to be created.  The influence of the dramatic and visual arts has had a lasting influence on Japanese films up until the 1930s and has played a large part in the characteristic “national style” of Japanese film. 

1930年代までの日本映画までは西洋とは異なり非常に特徴的な「国家のスタイル」を表示していたことが明らかです。無声映画は、主に歌舞伎のような伝統的日本の影響を受けていました。これら初期の無声映画に固有しているのは、現在まで続いて影響を与えている物理的な語り手、弁士の存在でした。映画技術は、様々な方法、異なる目的のために使用されました。さらに、日本の映画産業の早期改革は、労働者階級には現実的かつ便利に、また許可された女性が映画に参加しており、映画の全く新しいジャンルが作成されました。劇的、視覚芸術の影響は、最大1930年代まで日本映画に持続的な影響を与え、日本映画の特徴的な「国家のスタイル」に大きな役割を果たしてきました。

This article traces the historical development of aesthetic practices of colour in the generic and industrial context of Nikkatsu Action Cinema of postwar Japan, and how they influenced the idiosyncratic style of Suzuki Seijun. Nikkatsu Action's needs as a genre devoted to a youthful and energetic subject matter shaped its colour design, and its filmmakers developed a bright, vibrant colour aesthetic by drawing on neon lighting and coloured light filters. It was within this context that Suzuki's colour style took shape. His earliest experiments take the Nikkatsu colour idiom and bend its diegetic pretexts to motivate sudden colour transformations. In his later Nikkatsu films, Suzuki elaborates on these experiments by transforming them into a critical component of his formal strategies. In Gate of Flesh (Nikutai no mon, 1964), he gives each of the four main female characters a colour-coded costume, and in each woman's internal monologue her dress colour becomes the colour of the entire background, suffusing the image with her subjectivity. Suzuki uses sudden colour transformations to punctuate violent action in his later action films, which this article considers in a reading of Tattooed Life (Irezumi ichidai, 1965)'s climax. Suzuki's experimentation gradually refines his colour design to an abstraction that belies its origins in popular genre cinema. Suzuki Seijun's colour design appears briefly in many historical and theoretical accounts of colour in cinema, such as

The article discusses the interrelations between sport, cinema and socio-political transformation of Japan between 1868 and 1945. Cinema is identified as a mass medium able to serve as a socio-cultural document and a historical source. Article's starting point is a brief discussion of the Meiji era authorities’ policy toward Western influences, cinema, and sport, both modern and traditional. This is followed by the discussion of early non-fiction films depicting sport, mainly sumo matches. Next section is devoted to the inclusion of sport motifs in feature film in the context of socio-cultural transformations of Japan. Main section of the article discusses three strategies of employing sport in Japanese cinema of the late 1920s and 1930s: 1) neutral observation in which modern sports are presented as one of the aspects of socio-cultural transformations of Japan, 2) introduction of more or less elaborate sport motifes into the narratives of films in which sport does not play a dominant role but which attempt to comment on the social reality, 3) utilisation of sport motifes as purely symbolical devices. Last section of the article briefly indicates on two options available for Japanese filmmakers during the Pacific War – inclusion of the themes they were interested in into films conforming with the national policy and subversive filmmaking.

Wenn ich auf diesen Vortrag im Vorfeld angesprochen wurde, konnte ich mir fast hundertprozentig sicher sein, dass die Botschaft dieser Ansprache darin bestand, Verwunderung oder sogar Befremden auszudrücken. Selbst Leute, die den Film, über den ich heute sprechen werde, nicht kennen, konnten sich kaum vorstellen, wie sich ein Werk mit diesem ›niedlichen‹ Titel in den Kontext der Vorlesungsreihe sinnvoll einordnen ließe. Nun könnte ich an dieser Stelle zugeben, dass es vielleicht besser gewesen wäre, die englische Version zu verwenden: »Grave of the fireflies«, die in puncto Tragik der deutschen sicherlich um einiges voraus ist. Dies hilft jedoch nicht, wenn der Film in groben Zügen bekannt ist und die Verwunderung über einen klassischen Anime als Untersuchungsgegenstand bleibt; Die Figuren haben riesige, emotionsbeladene Augen und der Film stammt ausgerechnet aus dem Animationsstudio -Ghibli -, das auch die Heidi-Serie zu verantworten hat. 1 Vor diesem Hintergrund kann es einem gehen wie Daniel MacInnes, auf den ich später noch zurück kommen werde: »Whenever I tell anyone who will listen that Iasao Takahata's Grave of the fireflies is just about the greatest animated picture ever made, I'm greeted with strange looks«. 2 Was ich allerdings nicht tun möchte, ist, diesen Film um jeden Preis in die Kategorie des Antikriegsfilms vom Kaliber eines Apokalypse Now zu pressen. Die letzten Glühwürmchen spielt zwar in den letzten Monaten des zweiten Weltkrieges, doch auf den ersten Blick scheint der Film einige wichtige Bedingungen der genannten Filmgattung nicht zu erfüllen. Von diesen kann und will ich keine vollständige Aufzählung liefern, da es mir vielmehr um die Frage geht, ob Die letzten Glühwürmchen trotz dieser Umstände einen Beitrag zur Erörterung des Phänomens der Filmgewalt liefern kann und worin dieser besteht. Wie bereits in einigen der schon stattgefundenen Vorträge erwähnt, lässt sich die Relation von Film und Gewalt auf zwei Weisen bestimmen: Es gibt die Gewalt im Film und die 1 Vgl. Odell/Le Blanc, Studio Ghibli -The Films of Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata.

In this paper I examine how environment, space and place is used in the films of Studio Ghibli and to what effect.  I link these ideas with the representation of traditional Japanese spirituality in the form of Shinto and Buddhism.

I argue that the narratives of Studio Ghibli’s films often have a strong sense of location, community, and harmony which is threatened by industry or pollution.  Frequently there are spirits or kami, that communicate these themes.  I refer specifically to My Neighbour Totoro, Spirited Away, and Ponyo whilst also commenting on the wider Ghibli filmography. I frame my arguments by focusing on the themes of environment, location, and spirituality in turn.

Through textual analysis, I examine how the characters (both human and magical), and narrative, as well as Ghibli animation aesthetics convey these themes.  I review existing literature on the subject and access published interviews with Miyazaki to inform my conclusions.

I will look at the wider context of environmental issues in modern-day Japan, including urban sprawl and the threat of earthquake and tsunami.  Finally I will draw some conclusions of the overriding ‘morals of the story’ relating to environment and spirituality.

Pese a ser uno de los (mal) llamados cines periféricos que más tiempo lleva siendo objeto de estudio entre nosotros, el análisis del cine japonés permanece anclado a una serie de ideas preconcebidas, rémoras que limitan el avance del ejercicio crítico en aguas ajenas al exotismo que aún se atribuye a esta cinematografía. Entre esos estereotipos destacan por contraste la serenidad, de ritmo y trazo, que se le supone a la obra de sus figuras canónicas, clásicos como los Kurosawa o Mizoguchi, frente a una supuesta hipérbole violenta que dominaría la producción más reciente, con la figura de Kitano como elemento reconocible a nivel popular. Esta preconcepción no deja de abundar en la clásica dicotomía tradición/modernidad que tanto nos empeñamos en atribuir a la cultura nipona, perpetuando la sempiterna caracterización en dualidades enfrentadas de crisantemos y espadas a falta de elementos de análisis mejor informados. En la habitual estrategia de alterización orientalista, es habitual recurrir a explicaciones ahistóricas, descontextualizadas, remontándonos a unas supuestas esencias para enfatizar el extrañamiento que nos supone el contacto con una cultura ajena. Combatamos pues este efecto distorsionador mediante el recorrido inverso: contextualicemos el fenómeno que pretendemos observar, la rebeldía juvenil en el cine japonés, en un recorrido que iniciaremos en la concepción clásica de las comedias de Ozu hasta llegar a la contemporaneidad digital de nombres como el de Iwai Shunji. Trataremos así de arrojar cierta luz sobre la relación de una determinada puesta en escena con la lógica y la estética del momento de su realización.

Postwar Japanese films make regular, subtle, realistic, and thematic use of food and eating to move the plot, explore personal relations, reveal character, comment on history, and express moral and ethical judgments. Hollywood studio films from the 1940s to the 1980s tend to ignore food, use it only in passing, or code it as ethnic or regional.

This chapter looks at four Japanese films made for domestic consumption: Tokyo Story (1951) and The Seven Samurai (1954), whose use of food is all the more telling because they are not “foodie” films; Tampopo (1985), in which food plays a leading role; and The Family Game (1986), in which food plays a supporting role.

The chapter finishes with a brief comparison to Hollywood films with comparable themes  that do not make comparable use of food, such as The Magnificent Seven (1960) and Shane (1953),

Without doubt Hirokazu Kore-eda (是枝裕和) is one of the finest and most authentic Japanese directors, who follow the thematic and aesthetic tradition of Yasujiro Ozu in contemporary Japanese cinema. Kore-eda always deals with unusual and original stories, as the focus of his attention often fall on various themes of family: mainly the relationships between parents and children. He observes the images of the family in contemporary Japan – his films in this thematic area are often based on real case history, which has shaken Japanese society. Moreover, the director creates the original scripts, distinguished also by a strong plot, linked to portrayal, dissection, analysis and even criticism of Japanese socium of today. The visual style of Kore-eda blends in elegant way the documentary, realistic vision incorporated in the feature film.
The proposed presentation will focus on three of his films that adequately correspond with the context of the International Symposium on Japanese Studies "Contemporary Japan: Problems and Challenges". These are the "Nobody Knows", "I Wish", "Like Father, Like Son".
The three movies form a kind of informal and peculiar trilogy, centered at the image of a child as a serious social problem. The topics and public life`s issues are linked to the trauma, the parents’ absence, emptiness, loneliness, alienation, responsibility, communication failures within the family. All of them are refracted through the children personality. The social cases, articulated by the cinematic work of Koreeda, are very different, at the same time serious and somewhat strange, on the border of life's absurdity.
What is happening in contemporary Japanese society in the postmodern, globalized era? What challenges and problems the family is facing? Are they solvable and how they can be overcome? Is there a change in traditional family values? On all these issues Hirokazu Kore-eda seeks answers through his films. He makes his movies in an original and talented way, through work in various genre intonations and exploration of deformity vectors between cruelty and hope.

[abstract in Kazakh language]
ЖІГІТТЕР ЖЫЛАМАЙДЫ: ХИРОКАДЗУ КОРЭЭДА ФИЛЬМДЕРІНДЕГІ ӘЛЕУМЕТТІК МӘСЕЛЕ ТАНЫМАЙДЫ / 誰 も 知 ら な い - 2004; ҒАЖАЙЫП/ МЕН ТІЛЕЙМІН/ 奇跡 – 2011; ӘКЕГЕ ҚАРАП ҰЛ ӨСЕР/ そ し て 父 に な る -2013 ФИЛЬМДЕРІН ТАҚЫРЫПТЫҚ ЗЕРТТЕУ)
Абстракт
Корээда Хирокадзу (是 枝 裕 和) заманауи жапон кино өнеріндегі Ясудзиро Одзудың тақырыптық және эстетикалық дәстүрін ұстанатын бірден бір ең үздік және ең шынайы режиссер. Корээда туындылары отбасылық әртүрлі тақырыптарға арналған ерекше және шынайы оқиғаларға құрылады: көбіне ата-аналар мен балалар арасындағы қарым-қатынасқа назар аударады. Ол заманауи Жапонияның отбасы образдарын суреттейді, осы тақырыптағы оның фильмдері жапон қоғамын күйзелткен шынайы оқиғаларға негізделген. Сондай-ақ, режиссер, ерекше сюжетімен, бейнелі байланыспен, зерттеумен, сараптаумен және тіпті заманауи жапон қоғамын сынаумен ерекшеленетін шынайы сценарийлерді дүниеге әкеледі. Корээданың визуальді стилі бұл, деректі фильм мен шынайы көріністі көркем фильмге көрнекті біріктіру әдісі.
Ұсынылып отырған жұмыс, «Заманауи Жапония: мәселелер және шақыру» атты Халықаралық симпозиумының контекстінде оның фильмдерінің үшеуін қарастырады. Олар, «Ешкім танымайды», «Ғажайып/Мен тілеймін», «Әкеге қарап ұл өсер» туындылары.
Бұл үш туынды да қатерлі қоғам мәселесі ретінде сәбидің образына құрылған формальді емес және өзіне тән трилогияны қалыптастырады. Қоғам өміріндегі тақырыптар мен мәселелер, ата-ананың болмауы, шарасыздық, жалғыздық, қағажу көру, жауапкершілік, отбасылық қарым-қатынастағы қателіктерден алған жан жарасымен байланысты. Корээданың кинематографиялық жұмыстарындағы әлеуметтік жағдайлар әртүрлі, сонымен қатар, салмақты және мағынасыз өмір жиегіндегідей аздап әдеттен тыс болып келеді.
Жаһанданудың постмодернисттік дәуіріндегі заманауи жапон қоғамында не болып жатыр? Отбасы қандай қиындықтармен бетпе бет келуде? Олардың шешімі бар ма, және де қалай еңсеруге болады? Дәстүрлі отбасылық құндылықтарда өзгерістер бар ма? Хирокадзу Корээда өз туындылары арқылы осындай сұрақтарға жауап іздейді. Ол өзінің фильмдерін әртүрлі бағыттағы жанрларда және қайырымсыздық пен үміт арасындағы айрықты шынайы және талантты түрде суреттейді.
Тірек сөздер: Корээда Хирокадзу фильмі; ата-аналар мен балалар қарым-қатынасы; жапон қоғамы; әлеуметтік мәселе; мағынасыз өмір.

[abstract - Russian]
ПАРНИ НЕ ПЛАЧУТ: ОБРАЗ ДЕТЕЙ КАК СОЦИАЛЬНАЯ ПРОБЛЕМА В ФИЛЬМАХ ХИРОКАДЗУ КОРЭЭДА (ТЕМАТИЧЕСКОЕ ИССЛЕДОВАНИЕ ФИЛЬМОВ «НИКТО НЕ УЗНАЕТ» (誰も知らない), 2004, «ЧУДО/Я ЖЕЛАЮ» (奇跡), 2011, «КАКОВ ОТЕЦ, ТАКОВ И СЫН» (そして父になる), 2013)
Абстракт
Без сомнения, Корээда Хирокадзу (是枝裕和) является одним из самых лучших и самых аутентичных японских режиссеров, которые следуют тематической и эстетической традиции Ясудзиро Одзу в современном японском кино. Корээда всегда имеет дело с необычными и оригинальными историями, так как в центре его внимания часто находятся различные темы семьи: в основном отношения между родителями и детьми. Он рассматривает образы семьи современной Японии – его фильмы в этой тематической области часто основаны на реальной истории, которая потрясла японское общество. Кроме того, режиссер создает оригинальные сценарии, отличающиеся также сильным сюжетом, связанным с изображением, раскрытием, анализом и даже критикой современного японского социума. Визуальный стиль Корээда – это способ элегантного включения документального фильма и реалистического видения в художественный фильм.
Предлагаемая презентация будет сосредоточена на трех из его фильмов, которые соотносятся с контекстом Международного симпозиума «Современная Япония: проблемы и вызовы». Это фильмы: «Никто не узнает», «Чудо/Я желаю», «Каков отец, таков и сын».
Эти три фильма образуют своего рода неформальную и своеобразную трилогию, сосредоточенную на образе ребенка в качестве серьезной социальной проблемы. В них раскрываются темы и вопросы общественной жизни, связаные с травмой, отсутствием родителей, пустотой, одиночеством, отчуждением, ответственностью, ошибками взаимосвязей в семье. Все они преломляются через личность детей. Социальные случаи, озвученные кинематографическими работами Корээда, очень
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разные, в то же время серьезные и несколько странные, на грани абсурда жизни.
Что происходит в современном японском обществе в постмодернистскую эпоху глобализации? С какими трудностями и проблемами сталкивается семья? Являются ли они разрешимыми, и как их можно преодолеть? Есть ли изменения в традиционных семейных ценностях? На все эти вопросы Хирокадзу Корээда ищет ответы через свои фильмы. Он делает их оригинально и талантливо, в различных жанровых интонациях и в развилке векторов между жестокостью и надеждой.
Ключевые слова: фильм Корээда Хирокадзу, отношения между родителями и детьми, японское общество, социальная проблема, абсурд жизни.

This seminar examines Japanese popular culture from historical and theoretical perspectives. It offers a deeper understanding of various pop-cultural phenomena as they developed in historical and contemporary Japan. While introducing students to the basic social theories of popular culture, we conduct analyses of topics such as kabuki, ukiyo-e, kami-shibai, moga, anime, J-cinema, and J-pop. Throughout the course, we will also take a closer look at the affective-economic relationship between the Japanese idol industry and the devoted subcultural communities "otaku". The general implication of the course is that popular culture is not always a spontaneous representation of our ideas and beliefs. To examine this, we will observe the mutual influence of institutional environments and (pop)cultural scripts throughout the course of Japanese history. This will enable students to study how Japanese popular culture is both generative and constitutive, simultaneously creating and reflecting the zeitgeist in which it emerges.