Umberto D.: Vittorio De Sica
Enigma of Kaspar Hauser: Werner Herzog
I did a quick search on both Google Books and Amazon.com, but I couldn't find any titles that suggested a comprehensive look at the film industry of Japan, Germany and Italy following their defeat in WWII. There are books that look at each individual country, and some that are concerned with post-war world cinema, but - as film is a powerful document of time and customs (even inadvertently so, sometimes) - a concerted effort to compare and contrast films from these three countries seems like an obvious topic. While no one movie or filmmaker can sum up the entire output for any of these countries, these are three examples I've seen within the last year.
It's hard to think of another face that represents Japanese cinema better than Akira Kurosawa's, or perhaps, by proxy, Toshiro Mifune's - at least until it was replaced by this one in 1954. I feel somewhat like the boy who pointed out that the Emperor doesn't have any clothes on when I say that I don't think Rashomon deserves its continued reputation as the best from this time period, but that's another subject for another post. I do feel as though both Kurosawa's own Throne of Blood and Kon Ichikawa's The Burmese Harp are more challenging films that hold up better over a half century later, and though I have not seen it yet, a highly trusted source recommends Masaki Kobayashi's The Human Condition as a personal favorite.
From the handful of Japanese films from this time period that I've seen, a couple of observations without conclusions. Several seem bent on reclaiming the samurai reputation, by either presenting positive representation (Seven Samurai), or with morality tales of power's rebuke (Throne of Blood, and Sword of Doom). The other intention is spiritual - either turning away from falseness (Rashomon) or from war (The Burmese Harp). My objective isn't to claim that the decade following the war was only concerned with these ideas, and so Floating Weeds, Tokyo Story, and Ugetsu are all on my list of films to see in order to broaden my comparison base.
Umberto D., on the other hand, is the only Italian film I've watched from this same time period, which, I discovered after some research, is thought of as a classic of the Neorealist movement, maybe even the best. The parallels between this movement and Rashomon are interesting, as both are credited with being hugely influential and affecting directors from all over the world. A parallel between Rashomon and Umberto D. is that while I recognize them for being important when released, I'm ambivalent about them both today. No matter really - what is noteworthy is the Neorealist movement itself, and what one might deduce from the country it came from. Whereas the Japanese focus on historical legend, or else on the disintegration of their traditions in the modern world, the Italians go 180 degrees in the opposite direction and point their camera lens directly at their rubble filled streets. Again, without drawing conclusions, I wonder exactly what the fascination was, both for the directors and the audience. For a short time, they were fixated on their reflection, but apparently there was little left to look at after Umberto D. Everything that could be done with Neorealism had been done, and the filmmakers moved on.
Which brings me to Germany, which will eventually lead to Herzog. In comparison with the film industry of Japan and Italy, I'm unable to find much to distinguish Germany immediately after the war - certainly no group of directors like the Japanese produced, and no movement like the Neorealists. There were notable films (The Murderers Are Among Us is on my list to be watched), but I can't find a coherent trend such as a fond look at the dim past, a wistful regret for fading traditions, or an obsession for looking in the mirror. This could be because the Nazis had seized the past and tradition for their own use, and there was no relief there, or that a frank look around them or in the mirror was still to ghastly to contemplate. Surely the division of East and West played a part too.
The New German Cinema, to which Herzog belonged, didn't really get its start until about the same time I did, in the late '60's. The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser may not be indicative of Werner Herzog's output, let alone his contemporaries, but I think it does reflect a theme inherent in the work that I've seen of Herzog's, Rainer Fassbinder and Wim Wenders - and which might aptly be summed up by Herzog's translated German title for Kaspar, "Every man for himself and God against them all".
What sort of medium is film, anyway? Is it how we wish to see ourselves, or is it a reflection of how we really are? Both, I suppose. These particular country's films, given their unique positions in history, I think are worth examining in tandem to shed more light on social trauma. It's entirely possible I've skipped over important connections due to my limited exposure to the film heritage of these countries. If so, feel free to discuss.
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