I really can’t wait til I have time to get back here on a regular basis. Just so ridiculously pressed right now…

Finally ordered Nogami’s book. Can’t wait!

Hope you’ve had a moment to check out my AK posts

Vili: Sorensen mentions two previous works as having helped most with his own investigation: Kyoko Hirano’s Mr. Smith Goes to Tokyo: Japanese Cinema Under the American Occupation 1945-1952 (Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992) and Marlene Mayao’s “Civil Censorship in Japan” (published in Mayao & Rimer, Americans as Proconsuls, Southern Illinois University Press, 1984).

And having read Mr. Smith Goes to Tokyo, Hirano’s sources come largely from unclassified documents from the U.S., that were released between 1990-1992. To which surely not all, but most have been read by me as well. Hirano mentions the changes in propaganda to be effective, but too subtle for the Americans to catch, and how someway the American fueled the propaganda with their censors. This I have little doubts about, however no such documents even come close to declaring such statements. Hirano too, to what appears Sorensen as well, draw a conclusion that is not even mention in these documents.
As for the collections of Makoto Iokibe, his works are quite easily located, and details of Japanese diplomacy of the 1950s is fantastic to say the least. But besides listing some suggestions, as mention: kissing. There is nothing else other then to be expected-non-allowance of resistance, and superior race ideals.
None of which American ever tried to hide, namely the increase affection towards women was something American proud itself on, as they are often considered one of the key builders to Japan’s women liberation of the 1970’s.

Not to come off as defensive of an opinion, but the backing of such opinions presented in Hirano, and Sorensen comes supposedly from documents, that if one read for themselves, has little information to form opinions of conflict.
It is simply too curious to where suggestion of conflicts come from.

Vili: and Sorensen argues that directors like Ozu and Kurosawa often went against these restrictions in very creative ways, the directors even going as far as making use of the fact that films were being censored, and the fact that the target audience already knew that they were seeing censored products.

I have no room to debate this, but in regards of the audience knowing about the censorship, I would find hard to confirm, and entirely depended on the location. To the contrary, America appear to be extremely careful not to make a large presence. The entire goal was for Japan to rebuild itself through anyway it thought fit, but under American over-watch. American presence to the general population was large in Tokyo, as Tokyo had no infrastructure in tact, but outside the center of Tokyo, you simply have to read journals, books, from Japanese people of the time, stating that American lack of presence and knowing to the general public often encourage small splinter cells of militarism to form. Lack of their development was offer due to the Japanese being so wary of war, oppose to American involvement. Another aspect of America avoiding getting too entangled, to which the Japanese felt none of their involvement was large spawning of black-markets, that often exhibit the crimes that brought Japan into WWII.

My anti-America statement was in poor choice, but the siding of America lacking the intelligence to understand the situation they find themselves in, mainly those involving war, as well as suggesting key figures thought similarly, are common place at the University of Copenhagen. This is however likely highly irrelevant to the conversation.

Ugetsu: I wonder if the information that the studios compiled on their audiences was not preserved, or if it just hasn’t occurred to anyone to do a study on this.

Indeed, studio data on this topic would be fascinating reading. Both studies that Sorensen gives details from are university studies conducted in Tokyo, although he does mentions that the studies are in line with other similar studies (but doesn’t give information as for which ones).

Vili: Rashomon is very “in your face” about the problems that it discusses.

Ugetsu: Do you think so?

Let me word that differently. Rashomon very much draws attention to the fact that it is an intellectually complicated film (and that it has something in particular to do with interpretation). Other Kurosawa films don’t do this anywhere near that level. In fact, many of them work really well as simple action or crime flicks, even when they actually have an equally complex underlying intellectual discourse going on.

Which, to me, is the beauty of Kurosawa.

Sorensen does note that some films obviously were more directed at a certain group than others. His specific example is that “Ozu catered to the tastes of an older audience with more females than the action and crime films of Kurosawa, some of which were explicitly intended to attract young people”. (39) It is somewhat unfortunate that Sorensen doesn’t explore this further and go on to discuss the degree to which films were actually specifically targeted at certain groups. It would be interesting to see some hard data about these things, although it may well be that non exists.

The only information I’m aware of on how the films were targeted for audiences is from the various DVD extras by Tony Rayns on the Masters of Cinema Region 2 releases of Mizoguchi’s 1950’s films. He mentions several times that Mizoguchi was specifically instructed to make films for a female audience – it was believed that in the post war years there would be a major increase in women going to the cinema. I can’t recall which studio he worked for at the time, but Rayns implies that they were specifically going after this audience. I think we can sometimes forget just how sophisticated the marketing and audience research was at the time, its not just a modern invention. I wonder if the information that the studios compiled on their audiences was not preserved, or if it just hasn’t occurred to anyone to do a study on this. I guess studying the nature of the audience goes against the autuerist model of film criticism.

Rashomon is very “in your face” about the problems that it discusses.

Do you think so? I’ve found it fascinating to read just how many different interpretations there are of the film. I find it really interesting to see how many completely different ways there are of seeing the film – which I think was Kurosawas intention.

Ugetsu: I do find it hard to believe there was much overt or covert anti-Americanism in any of Kurosawas work – although of course he was deeply concerned at the direction Japanese society was taking after the Occupation. But to me he always focused his attacks on Japanese structures and never blamed outside elements for anything he didn’t like about Japan.

That is more or less my interpretation as well, and Sorensen’s arguments to the contrary didn’t really convince me, as they came for the most part from Kurosawa’s films, i.e. the same primary source from which I have constructed my own view of the situation. Had Sorensen been able to put something new on the table, for instance more detailed censorship documents backing his claims, it would have been a different story. And that in fact is my main criticism of the book — the Kurosawa chapter just doesn’t quite seem to have that much to do with censorship, and more to do with Sorensen’s interpretations of Kurosawa’s films.

Ugetsu: I don’t know if the book mentions it, but I think it was Mellen who quoted Ozu who implicitly compared Kurosawa to makers of tawdry kimono’s for western tourists, so certainly Ozu didn’t agree that AK was anti-American.

I at least don’t remember reading that in the book, but that’s an interesting point.

Ugetsu: I always had the impression that the jidai geki and domestic drama genres were aimed at a more mature and more female audience

Sorensen does note that some films obviously were more directed at a certain group than others. His specific example is that “Ozu catered to the tastes of an older audience with more females than the action and crime films of Kurosawa, some of which were explicitly intended to attract young people”. (39) It is somewhat unfortunate that Sorensen doesn’t explore this further and go on to discuss the degree to which films were actually specifically targeted at certain groups. It would be interesting to see some hard data about these things, although it may well be that non exists.

Ugetsu: The more I read about Rashomon, the more convinced I am that it is maybe the most intellectually challenging and interesting of all his films.

For me, the more I read (and think) about Rashomon, the more I fear (hope?) that also the other films are just as complex and intellectually challenging, and that we haven’t yet even begun to fully unravel their contradictions and internal puzzles. Rashomon is very “in your face” about the problems that it discusses. Many other Kurosawa films seem to be almost as complicated and hold as many potential interpretations — they just do it more subtly.

But the rashamen interpretation is certainly interesting, and like you said, if merged with Martinez’s take, a picture of a real “post war film” begins to emerge. Good call on the child, too. This all could also explain why both Kurosawa and the studio bosses were puzzled that Rashomon won at Venice. Obviously, if you have been making the film explicitly with the Japanese situation in mind, the fact that someone in Italy might understand it is baffling. The point would of course be that they didn’t understand it, and that the intended meaning was interpreted very differently, and on a more universal level.

Which would of course be more than appropriate for a film that problematises the entire notion of a fixed interpretation.

Perhaps I did not express myself clearly there. Sorensen argues that Ozu was very anti-occupation himself, and went to great creative lengths to get his message across despite the censorship. The reason why I concentrated on Kurosawa so heavily is that that’s what I know about, and that’s what my focus with the website is (not that Ozu discussion is in any way discouraged, on the contrary!).

Ok, I’ve re-read what you wrote and I realise I misinterpreted what you said. I’d like to read Sorensens arguments but I do find it hard to believe there was much overt or covert anti-Americanism in any of Kurosawas work – although of course he was deeply concerned at the direction Japanese society was taking after the Occupation. But to me he always focused his attacks on Japanese structures and never blamed outside elements for anything he didn’t like about Japan. I don’t know if the book mentions it, but I think it was Mellen who quoted Ozu who implicitly compared Kurosawa to makers of tawdry kimono’s for western tourists, so certainly Ozu didn’t agree that AK was anti-American.

Chapter two (pages 35-83) sets out to compile the profile of an average Japanese post-war film goer, or “Moe-san”. Sorensen references a handful of contemporary studies that give interesting data about the age and sex distribution of audiences of the era: for instance, we get to know that a study conducted in 1950 found that a total of 82% of film goers in Tokyo were 16-30 years of age, and that 16-25 year old men and women were equally active film goers, but from older audiences men were the majority. (37) Other surveys tell us that more than half of the film goers were either students or company employees (the number of unemployed film goers declined as years passed and the economy grew), although data from rural areas is somewhat lacking. (37-38)

This is really interesting – its something I’ve always been curious about. I am surprised though as I always had the impression that the jidai geki and domestic drama genres were aimed at a more mature and more female audience (in the DVD extra’s for various Mizoguchi films I have it is emphasised that he was instructed to capture what was seen as an expanding female audience – implicitely in competition with Ozu and Naruse) – I assumed that the main impact of TV was to take away the older audience group, leaving the juvinalisation of Japanese cinema. If those figures are right, then it was only by a matter of degree.

The book’s chapter on Kurosawa concludes with an interpretation of Rashomon, which is perhaps the most interesting and convincing of Sorensen’s takes on Kurosawa. Sorensen first notes that the character of Tajomaru can be seen as “a sort of oni, or ogre, of Japanese folklore, which has often been interpreted as a representation of the foreigner” (296; quoting Davidson). What this can potentially mean becomes clear a few pages later when Sorensen introduces the Japanese word rashamen, which is a derogatory term used for Japanese women who are mistresses to foreign men. As Sorensen points out, it was no secret that many American soldiers had such mistresses; in fact, in 1946 “roughly 40% … had a Japanese girlfriend while stationed in Japan”. (300) Sorensen also goes on to note that according to the Japanese film critic Tadao Sato, “the reality of the rashamen gave name to a subgenre in the postwar years of films that treated relationships between Japanese women and American men: the ‘rashamen genre’”. (300) The idea of Rashomon as a ‘rashamen film’ would certainly cast new light onto the rape/seduction scene at the centre of the story, while also giving an explanation why Kurosawa insisted on building the Rashomon gate in the first place (which, as Sorensen notes, is as if hit by a bomb).

This is really interesting! The more I read about Rashomon, the more convinced I am that it is maybe the most intellectually challenging and interesting of all his films. If you pair up this analaysis with Martinez’s intepretation of Rashomon as being ultimately about post war guilt, then a picture emerges of a film that is an allegory for the whole post-war society – dealing simultaneously with Japanese guilt over its atrocities and aggression, its horror at the changes being inflicted upon it, and in a very Kurosawa way, attempting to see a way out (accepting the innocence of an orphaned child and the need to care for it). Maybe (if this isn’t stretching things too much), then Kurosawa’s insistance that Michiko Kyo portray her character as a cat is his view of Japan – manipulative and aggressive as a cat can be, but, following its ‘rape’ by the conquerer, striking out and twisting the truth in an attempt to evade responsibility for its actions.

Jeremy: Does Sorensen source his information as to the processes, procedures, and goals of the CIES?

Sorensen mentions two previous works as having helped most with his own investigation: Kyoko Hirano’s Mr. Smith Goes to Tokyo: Japanese Cinema Under the American Occupation 1945-1952 (Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992) and Marlene Mayao’s “Civil Censorship in Japan” (published in Mayao & Rimer, Americans as Proconsuls, Southern Illinois University Press, 1984).

In addition to these two, Sorensen references many related memos, letters and archive material that give us hints about the internal workings of the two bureaus, as well as exchanges between them. These, apparently, come from two main sources: the National Archives and Records Administration collection (I assume this place), and a microfiche collection of documents edited by Makoto Iokibe, titled The Occupation of Japan (Parts I, II & III).

Not knowing the nature of these sources or what other possible sources there could be, it is difficult for me to judge how well Sorensen makes use of whatever tools and sources are currently available for someone conducting research like his.

Jeremy: The only heavy conflicts were openly pro-militarism, anti-American directors that fought against, and attempted uprisings against the Americans.

While Sorensen doesn’t actually attempt to compile a full list of things prohibited and encouraged in occupation cinema (which I think would have been very interesting), he claims that there were a number of subtle things that censors were concerned about. Kissing was to be encouraged on screen. Use of the Latin script was discouraged. References to suicide were a no-no. As were any references to the presence of the Occupation. There were numerous such small things (which Sorensen mentions here and there, as appropriate to the discussion), and Sorensen argues that directors like Ozu and Kurosawa often went against these restrictions in very creative ways, the directors even going as far as making use of the fact that films were being censored, and the fact that the target audience already knew that they were seeing censored products.

Censorship, therefore, was more about tweaking things than outright banning stuff. The occupation’s emphasis, or so I get from Sorensen, was in helping directors comply with the restrictions, rather than simply telling them what they can’t do. Some of the changes suggested by occupation censors (usually in pencilled marks next to the script or synopsis) are even quite creative, I would say.

Jeremy: While likely inappropriate: find me one book in the last 10 years, from the University of Copenhagen, that isn’t critical of all things American, or convincing the rest of the world they are really anti-American, or at least should be.

Perhaps indeed somewhat inappropriate. I never got the impression that the book is Anti-American, or that Sorensen judges the American censorship in any way. He never seems to congratulate (or denounce) Ozu and Kurosawa either for their alleged anti-American sentiments. It is not a book about who was right or who was wrong — the emphasis is strongly on “what happened”, as it should be.

Ugetsu: I would be very dubious about the thesis that Kurosawa was more anti-occupation than Ozu.

Perhaps I did not express myself clearly there. Sorensen argues that Ozu was very anti-occupation himself, and went to great creative lengths to get his message across despite the censorship. The reason why I concentrated on Kurosawa so heavily is that that’s what I know about, and that’s what my focus with the website is (not that Ozu discussion is in any way discouraged, on the contrary!).