Kurosawa Series: Part Five

IKIRU (1952)

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD

Never before have I experienced a film that so beautifully encapsulates the human condition. “To live,” – which is the literal translation of Kurosawa’s Ikiru – is a task given to us all at birth, but how does one approach such a task when life itself seems so meaningless? Kurosawa never thought of himself as an existentialist, or as a director who probed the boundaries of existence, but with Ikiru, he does just that by employing an unfulfilled protagonist – who's on the brink of death – in order to emphasize humanity’s search for affirmation. I usually find films that hone in on old age and death to be unbearably somber, but when handled in a manner similar to Bergman’s Wild Strawberries, Ozu’s Tokyo Story and especially this film, I feel engulfed by a wave of optimism. The elderly protagonists portrayed in these films have attained peace of mind upon death, which gives the rest of us not something to look forward to, but one less thing to dread in life.

A narrator opens Ikiru by detailing the uneventful life of Kanji Watanabe (Takashi Shimura), a dull bureaucrat working the monotonous job of chief over a Public Works department. The corporate machine has essentially ruined Watanabe and his wife’s death certainly hasn’t helped in cultivating any form of active lifestyle. He’s unable to confide in his son (Nobuo Kaneko), who along with his daughter-in-law (Kyoko Seki) are oblivious to his despair and only show interest in benefiting from his pension. Making matters worse, the middle-aged chief has just recently been diagnosed – by a peculiarly vague doctor – with stomach cancer and, although uninformed, assumes he only has several months left to live. Watanabe’s cancer serves as the plot’s fulcrum, as it's primarily what drives the aging official on his quest for purpose. Faced with death, Watanabe is awakened to the doldrums of his existence, and from that point forward he seeks to live his life through others.

Similar to High and Low, Kurosawa’s Ikiru is separated into two introspective segments. The first half of the film, of course, summarizes Watanabe’s routine lifestyle and his eventual cancer diagnosis. It also sheds light on Watanabe’s relationships with two young people. The first of these characters is an uninspired novelist (Yunosuke Ito) he meets at a bar. The second is a young subordinate of his named Toyo (Miki Odagiri); who plans to resign due to the tediousness of her position. The loneliness Watanabe was subjected to over the years is momentarily appeased by these characters’ animated ways of life. However, the various activities he partakes in prove inefficient in aiding his journey toward individual purpose. In his old age, the bureaucratic drone begins to realize that he has lived his life in vain – contributing little to society – and no amount of boisterous activity with youngsters would change that.

Near the beginning of Ikiru, we’re shown several working class women who arrive at Watanabe’s department to complain about a sewage pit in their neighborhood. The women – mothers, factory workers, etc. – are given the runaround by virtually every department known to local government; failing to appeal to the better nature of these supposed “social” workers. By this point, Watanabe has finally come to his senses and resolves to vindicate his death by helping others with the power he’s held for years, but never implemented. Determined to accomplish something significant in life, Watanabe sets out to amend the sewage problem by initiating a proposed plan to build a park above the pit. The park is a godsend for Watanabe, and despite enduring severe illness, he succeeds at procuring that desired bliss he had long been searching for. In perhaps the most iconic scene in any Kurosawa film, Watanabe is seen swinging in the newly built park, presumably freezing, but hauntingly content and awaiting his inevitable demise.

Opposed to the first half of the film – seeing Watanabe in action and how he lived – the second portion of Ikiru exposes the aftermath of Watanabe’s death during his wake. The inner fortitude of his soul, expressed by his ungrateful associates, is displayed through flashbacks, mostly recounting his efforts to ensure the park’s completion. The wake scenes add a bittersweet touch on the film’s final moments, because in acknowledging Watanabe’s ambitious goals, all of his former co-workers seem incapable of giving credit to the man who made the park's conception possible. Only through alcohol are they able to understand the behavioral change Watanabe underwent following his “death sentence” and each of them vows to follow his example. Alas, sobriety annuls their dedicated spirits the next day, but the fruits of Watanabe’s labor do not go unappreciated by those who admired his determination the most.

Ikiru is more than simply profound. It’s a meditation on life and death that swells with human qualities capable of affecting us all in distinctive ways. I believe that, above all else – even critical acclaim – Kurosawa wanted viewers to comprehend the notion of living, and how the only way to truly live is by affirming one's place in the world. Life in general may in fact be meaningless, but what this film so vividly represents is man’s position as an individual and how the “meaning of life” is merely subjective.

9/10