Review of Ikiru (1952) by Ross C — 25 Feb 2010

To not mince words or sentiment, lets go ahead and declare this one of the most ably composed and heartbreakingly performed studies of pride, dignity, and the strength needed to do whats right of all time. In a claustraphobic, paper infested, non-eugenic think tank of an office sits a man that we are told is going to die. We do not know his name until the end of the piece, explicitly because he is the walking dead, simply "warming his chair." He has been dead for years, the cancer is incidental. A series of aesthetically stunning flashbacks towards the start of the film reveal a life generatively broken down by the death of a wife, the ambiguity of an uncaring son, and a callous and institutionalised public. He is nothing but the subject of gossip from his fellow characters and ontological pity from the jaded viewer. He does not even speak for the opening 20 minutes, a man utterly silenced. At least, thats how we begin.

Like great classicalist tragic heroes of Shakespeare or Johnson, our hero must journey through his alien, encumbered world in order to find himself. He meets a number of sooth-sayers along the way, prophetic friends that give him hope and a vehicle to finally express his sorrow in surprising eloquence. He meets a drunken novelist that bestows upon him a new hat, meant to represent individuality for the first time in a lifetime. A beautiful co-worker teaches him the meaning of innocence and the noble struggle. Rarely has death been spoken so softly but seemed so palpable and prominent.

It is hard to pick out highlights from such a labarynth of themes and images. The opening montage in the office is black humour at its most potent. The reocurring theme of the yin-yan and the polar opposite. The tragic sing song that occurs in the midst of a drunken night. The closing scene however, must take preferance. Told posthumously through his drunken, cindescending friends we learn of Mr.Wantanabe and his legacy during his last days on earth. The building of a playground, a one good deed amidst oceans of apathy. The final, iconic shot of Wantanabe on the swing, singing with joy is one that will remain with you until the end of your own days. Having communicated with the world for the first time he is no longer a shadow, no longer the walking dead. Accepting death for the first time, he teaches us the power of pride and that to have touched even one person for the better is a life of honour. Akira Kurosawa stepped back from his traditional period-piece conventions to teach us a valuable lesson: Pride is found in love and giving. It is, thus, hard not to recommend this film to anyone who lives in this little ambiguous place we call earth.