After a prolonged hiatus, the series is back in full swing to discuss one of Kurosawa’s heaviest character studies: his first and only female protagonist who's also the most compelling character I’ve seen in any of his films to date, transitioning from intolerable brat to aspiring activist. Yukie, masterfully portrayed by Setsuko Hara, is a rare breed of protagonist – whose character traits run the gamut from heedless and manipulative to spoon-fed and juvenile – and I initially wrote her off as an unpleasant hindrance serving only to spoil the film’s atmosphere, but when she’s finished taking pleasure in the clear, rhythmic sounds of gunfire, boasting her piano skills, and challenging potential love interests in areas of passion and resolve, we’re treated to a fascinating analysis of a woman bereft of identity who eventually puts aside her childish ways and matures into a revolutionary whose perseverance is captivating to watch flourish on screen.
No Regrets for Our Youth is a profound story on the ideologies that spearheaded World War II, not to mention gender roles and the resurgence of leftist views in Japan. Faced with censorship woes – which his wartime films were usually subjected to – Kurosawa remained firm, capitalizing on his artistry as a filmmaker to convey a message on the “sacrifices in the struggle for freedom.”
No Regrets opens under idyllic pretenses with students whistling and singing, frolicking on grassy hills reminisce of those Julie Andrews pirouetted across in The Sound of Music, only smaller, and enjoying the simplicities of nature that seem to diminish as the film progresses. This majestic air of beauty and tranquility that our heroine Yukie seems to value more than politics and social issues is soon disrupted by gunfire, which excites Yukie, but worries her male cohorts; it’s 1933 and the Manchurian Incident has many students riled up in revolt. The setup for No Regrets parallels The Kyoto University Incident of 1932, where law professor Takigawa Yukitori was relieved of his teaching duties due to supporting Marxist philosophies; which led students to protest for academic freedom. In the film, Professor Yagihara (Denjiro Okochi) – largely inspired by Yukitori – faces suspension for advocating leftist views against fascism and, aligning with actual events, the students stage mass protests against the system.
In the midst of this conflict, Yukie finds herself juggling two suitors: Ryukichi Noge (Susumu Fujita), who’s driven by his ideals and is steadfast in putting an end to fascism, and Itokawa (Akitake Kono), who’s more reserved, subservient and adheres to the government’s practices. More inclined toward radical traits than those of a push-over yuppie, Yukie is wooed by Noge’s self-esteem and strong-willed nature so much that when he’s released from jail years later – for participating in an anti-militarist protest – and has noticeably changed into a caricature of Itokawa, she loses all interest in the man he's become. But after a romantic run-in with the former protester in Tokyo, she discovers that his ideals are still very much in tact.
Kurosawa offers an ample amount of characterization in No Regrets, more than any of his other films, and this isn’t merely hyperbole because Yukie’s search for selfhood is by and large – at least it should be – the standard for developing a character from the ground up. What’s most impressive is how Yukie feels that, as a woman, the only way to feel validated is to stand in the shadow of an enterprising man who takes risks rather than a pen-pusher who lacks ambition and bravado. The latter seems to be the case for Itokawa, who’s dull and bureaucratic, and upon realizing this, Yukie sets her eyes on Noge. Unlike Itokawa, Noge is capable of challenging Yukie, and although this intimidates her – “If I were to marry him, my life would blaze so brightly that I might be blinded” – she also finds it enticing. There’s little to gain intellectually from a relationship with Itokawa, but Yukie reveres Noge and settles to adapt to his principles, sponging up the zeal he exhibits so effortlessly. She’s a woman seeking growth and introspection, both of which she attains by the end of her relationship with Noge.
I’m usually transfixed by Kurosawa’s near-flawless direction and attention-to-detail, but here, it’s all about Setsuko Hara. Yukie's tale is one soaked in political messages – maybe even propaganda – but underlying all that is a story of individualism and empowerment. While the same documentary-style quality that riddled The Most Beautiful is apparent in the beginning of No Regrets, the way in which events ingeniously unfold puts to rest any doubts about Kurosawa's knack for storytelling. The final half of No Regrets is staggering because we’re finally introduced to an adult Yukie who displays a complete shift in character, and the way Hara bares herself emotionally on screen is utterly human, tragic, and makes for a monumental performance.
8.5/10
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