136: The Ballad of Narayama (a.k.a. Narayama-bushi kô)

           
I’m glad that I saw Shohei Imamura’s The Ballad of Narayama (1983) in a close proximity with The Tree of Wooden Clogs (1978; #142).  Both pictures took the Palme D’or at Cannes and in a way they are mirror images of one another.  Both concern communal living in a small farming village and both are eternally concerned with the theme of family.  They take divergent paths as Tree reflects a Western worldview infused with Catholicism and Ballad displays an Eastern perspective, but essentially they are two of the starkest family dramas that I can think of.  That the culture of this film devalues the individual, placing emphasis on the good of the community, makes it perhaps the more difficult view, but one that is ultimately rewarding.

            In a remote agricultural village in 19^th century Japan those who reach the age of 70 are to be carried by a male family member to the top of their sacred mountain of Narayama to be left to die.  The audience is told that this practice has gone on for centuries and through the ballad of the film’s title each villager repeatedly recites elements of the tradition in verse.  In the midst of a series of poor harvests Orin (Sumiko Sakamoto), a family matriarch, has reached the age of 69.  Now more than ever her family needs one less mouth to feed, but she would be leaving them in disarray.  Her oldest son is widowed with two small children, another son is a social pariah because of offensive breath and body odor, and a grandson has begun to fool around with the daughter of known harvest thief.  When the girl becomes pregnant, it’s clear that there will not be enough food in the pot during the coming winter.

            Orin, is not the only village geriatric.  A man her age remains, but he’s been held prisoner in his house by his own son for months.  He tries to escape by chewing through his ropes, but never makes it very far.  Though Orin’s problems aren’t as obvious, she still feels the obligation to tie up as many loose ends as she can before her journey to the next life.  She finds a wife for her oldest son whom he seems to be fond of, but the woman is yet another hungry stomach.  As the food scarcity continues families in the village begin to take drastic measures.  Newborns are found abandoned in fields, left to die of starvation.  Orin’s grandson confides in his lover that he hopes their child is a girl so that they can sell her as apposed to killing a boy.  Through all of these scenes of the daily struggle for life in the village there are brief cutaways to nature, particularly of small creatures as they mate.  Here Imamura seems to imply that the cycle of life continues and that the human animal is just as likely to live in patterns as any other beast.

            When a family is buried alive for crop theft, Orin knows her time grows short.  She weaves the prayer rug on which she will take her final breath, before the god of the mountain comes to take her spirit.  In all of her preparation and all of the village adoration for tradition, Narayama is treated as though it is heaven itself, and that it is a privilege to make the journey to the mountain top.  Watching this film from a western perspective is hard.  It’s direct in its depiction of sex and hardships.  It’s unforgiving of those who do not respect the codes of the village.  Yet somehow it remains innately human.  Before departing for her meeting with death, Orin arranges a lover for her smelly son and gives advice to her new daughter-in-law.  In all of this she remains steadfast in her commitment to dying on traditional terms.

            When the time comes, her oldest son carries her on his back over the mountain terrain.  For almost a half hour there is no dialogue save for a brief conversation as the two rest for a moment.  This is the central moment of the film, as the son (Ken Ogata) realizes that the next time he sees this view he will be the carried and not the carrier, and so on and so forth for generations in both directions.  When they reach the mountain top they find what the audience has suspected all along.  The son leaves his mother in a heartbreaking scene and as he descends the mountain witnesses an atrocity.  He races back up as snow begins to fall, just as the ballad foretells, only to find his mother still praying as she freezes to death.

            You can take a film like The Ballad of Narayama in many ways.  Some audiences will obviously be turned off by the frank and harsh portrayal of village life.  Some won’t be able to get past the Western view that this tradition is banal and cold.  But deep down, just as with The Tree of Wooden Clogs, this is a life affirming picture.  It’s beautifully shot and masterfully crafted.  It’s not for young audiences, but I suspect that its meaning would change based on viewings at different points in life.  At its heart it is a family drama with much to say about how we treat the elderly in any culture.        

Grade: 3 Hats Off

Language: Japanese
Runtime: 130 Minutes