Japan Cuts XVII Review: Shinya Tsukamoto’s SHADOW OF FIRE, Just Like A Prayer
4 min. read
The tainted, bleak interior shots of a small pub diner are just an incremental hint of the larger setting of Fires On The Plain and Killing director Shinya Tsukamoto’s newest drama, Shadow Of Fire. When the woman who runs it (Shuri) isn’t sleeping, she’s at the beckoncall of men who pay their way for room and board, as well as her conjugal services.
The work is far from pleasant – albeit an extension of the far deteriorating condition the surrounding village is in, suffering in the aftermath of World War II as people are hungry and desperate. One such person comes in the form of a young war orphan (Oga Tsukao) often dismissed as a thief by other neighbors, and a wayward soldier (Hiroki Kono) looking for a place to rest and drink.
The woman and the soldier eventually strike an unwritten agreement to live together as long as he manages to make some money. Opportunely, the boy also manages to partake in the handy living arrangement, and for the first time in a long time, it feels as if the woman is able to live in what feels like some semblance of a suitable home environment.
Nevertheless, it’s not long before Tsukamoto brings viewers back to reality about a third into the movie when the reprieve hits an unceremonious end for our characters through a series of unfortunate incidents. The horror, violence and trauma of war are once again the impetus for Shadow Of Fire in its exploration of war’s environmental and psychological aftermath. That analysis extends further to a man (Mirai Moriyama) who manages to hire the boy as the two make a mysterious excursion the home of a wartime prison warden, resulting in a near-cataclysmic confrontation.
As a revisit of themes from Tsukamoto’s two aforementioned past titles, the most important aspect behind the messaging of Shadow Of Fire is its perspective. Tsukamoto’s storied postwar depictions lend a hefty, emotional labor in bearing witness to how war effects everyone, most importantly a child left vulnerable to the wills of adults.
Tsukao has a few film and TV credits to his name, and he was about seven years old when he filmed this movie. Further complimentary to Tsukamoto’s directing and writing, Tsukao’s ability to soak in the script with an understanding of the characters and Tsukamoto’s vision conveys a nascent brilliance to his performance alongside his talented adult counterparts.
That Tsukamoto made this movie as a “prayer” of sorts – according to public statements he made on the film last year – is a crucual factor in this analysis. Shadow Of Fire, in its recapitulation, proffers something poignant in its delivery. It’s easy to lose track of this prospect for a film framed in some seriously stark and multi-dimensional contours, a fitting tone for a drama of this kind in which multiple aspects of violence consume the world Tsukamoto’s script offers. Still, the nuances and complexities conveyed in our characters lay the groundwork for characterizations that equalize and level out some of the film’s more fatalist extremes.
The subject of nature-versus-nurture comes to mind with this movie, particularly given the current prevalence of genocide and rising fascism as I’m writing this review. Considering these, it’s not hard to imagine how a film like Shadow Of Fire mirrors reality for so many children around the world – kids like the one played by Tsukao – displaced and often disaffected by the decisions of people in power.
Tsukamoto’s latest underscores this conversation in a way that reflects and acknowledges the ubiquitous and damning toll war takes on humanity, weaving in the ebullient presence of a bright and tenacious child as a small embodiment of hope, even amid the omnious sounds of gunfire. In essence, it’s a “prayer” that couldn’t have come at a better time.
Shadow Of Firewas reviewed for Japan Cuts which runs from July 10 through 21.
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