This sometimes brutal look at post war Osaka seems like a companion piece to Oshima's "Naked Youth". Seemingly aimless young people engage in criminal gang behavior, generally causing mayhem. You have to immediate give credit to Oshima for being unflinching in this story. This is not a story where you'll even like any character, least of all Hanoko, who has pretty but also pretty dead black eyes. In her eyes you see the futile existence in living there and leading the lifestyle they lead. The film's title appears to be a political one, as if Japan will be no more. The film's message is now dated, but its an effective film nonetheless. Oshima didn't compromise in his work, sometimes for better or for worse, but he is unique. If you're looking for redemption, its not really here. watch it for its portrait of gang life in a Japan rarely shown at any time to the general public. Its violent but worth your time.
7 Reviews
Capitalists are Everywhere
boblipton3 November 2021
Nagisa Ôshima's third movie is about a slum in Osaka, where the young people all live by prostitution, theft, and selling their own blood. This goes on for a long time, while Kayoko Honoo's face grows shinier and shinier from sweat, and blacker from grime, because apparently there's no water, until there's a riot destroying the crooks at the top, whereupon she walks out of the slum.
This is, by Ôshima's standards, a happy ending, but it does raise the question of why she couldn't have left earlier. The answer I imagine is that Ôshima felt a need to organize the lumpenproletariat to destroy their essentially bourgeouis, vampiric masters, before she could abandon them to their own fate. What they're going to do is not clear to me. There are still no jobs. What Miss Honoo is going to do is also unclear to me. Her skill set seems to consist of whoring, selling her blood, and incitement to riot.
I suppose it's symbolic. Having cleaned up the Osaka slum, she is now going to clean up the rest of Japan and possibly the world. Film, however, is a very literal medium, and therefore I am more concerned with the rather lackadaisical manner in which people riot, particularly the big guy with the wooden pole.
None of which has anything to do with the movie's impact in 1960, when it was novel, shocking and had something to say that needed to be said. Nowadays, after more than half a century of increasing violence on the screen, it lacks snap.
This is, by Ôshima's standards, a happy ending, but it does raise the question of why she couldn't have left earlier. The answer I imagine is that Ôshima felt a need to organize the lumpenproletariat to destroy their essentially bourgeouis, vampiric masters, before she could abandon them to their own fate. What they're going to do is not clear to me. There are still no jobs. What Miss Honoo is going to do is also unclear to me. Her skill set seems to consist of whoring, selling her blood, and incitement to riot.
I suppose it's symbolic. Having cleaned up the Osaka slum, she is now going to clean up the rest of Japan and possibly the world. Film, however, is a very literal medium, and therefore I am more concerned with the rather lackadaisical manner in which people riot, particularly the big guy with the wooden pole.
None of which has anything to do with the movie's impact in 1960, when it was novel, shocking and had something to say that needed to be said. Nowadays, after more than half a century of increasing violence on the screen, it lacks snap.
Another powerful portrait of poverty, despair, and societal malfunction from Ôshima
agboone74 July 2015
Nagisa Ôshima, I believe, is one of the most fascinating studies in the history of cinema. His films don't tend to be conventionally enjoyable on a par with many other filmmakers of his talent, but they remain, nevertheless, truly fascinating examinations of societal failure and immensely complex exercises in sociopolitical disillusionment. "The Sun's Burial" is no exception. Like every other Ôshima film, it has worlds to say about Japanese society (and, to some extent, society in general), and much of its ideological structure can only be understood in light of Ôshima's larger body of work.
If I had grown up in Japan in the '50s, and seen this film released in 1960 as only Ôshima's third feature as a director, I might not have as many great things to say about it. I would recognize its audacity and, on some level, its intelligence — certainly its social relevance — but the greatest insights the film offers, and my deepest moments of appreciation for its themes and ideas, which were only really possible with some of Ôshima's later work in mind, would have probably been largely lacking from the viewing experience.
Like so many leftist filmmakers who engaged Marxist, communist ideology in cinema, Ôshima ended up disillusioned with the ideals he presumably once cherished. This may partially be a result of the naive underbelly of Marxist ideals, which comprise a faith in humanity that rarely proves in keeping with reality, or it may simply be human nature. Human beings are impatient — often too impatient to wait the time it takes for an idea to seep into the fabric of society — and generally unprepared to deal with the frustration of reality; specifically, the reality that ideals almost inevitably give way to human passions, obsessions, and self-serving behavior. Of course, not everyone will agree with this sentiment — and it is their prerogative not to — but it was certainly the defining sentiment behind Ôshima's unique career as a filmmaker.
The earliest film I've been able to see by Ôshima was his second effort, "Naked Youth", made in 1960, the same year as "The Sun's Burial". Both films feature a portrait of troubled youth that makes "The Outsiders" look like a walk in the garden. Ôshima's camera works in extremely close quarters. He gives us close-ups, but they are the polar opposite of Hollywood's beauty shots. They are, in fact, ugliness shots. Ôshima doesn't look closer in order to see the beauty of faces too perfect to be real, nor does he do it in order to enhance the emotional content of his images; rather, Ôshima looks close in order to see every possible flaw in the human condition, every ounce of ugliness and despair that we might otherwise polish over by maintaining a safe distance from our subject matter. Criticize Ôshima if you must, but one thing that can never be doubted is his commitment to his subject. Much like Pasolini, he gets deep, down, and dirty with the depravity he portrays in his films. He doesn't treat human suffering and degradation with Visconti's rubber gloves, as if afraid to dirty his hands with his own subject matter, nor does he share Hollywood's romanticism. Ôshima is authentic in this regard. He is not portraying misery for dramatic effect. There is absolutely nothing romantic in Ôshima's depiction of poverty.
I'm a bit ambivalent as to whether or not "The Sun's Burial" is a purely Marxist film, or whether it's already expressing the disillusionment with those ideas that Ôshima would ultimately become known for. A bit further into the '60s, Ôshima would make films like "Violence at Noon", in which this disillusionment is evident on an undeniable level, and then, eventually, in the early '70s, films like "In the Realm of the Senses", in which any pretense of political material has been dropped all together, and the only thing left to witness is Ôshima's stunning (and sometimes gratuitous) deconstruction of human self-destructiveness.
Is the "The Sun's Burial" criticizing society from a Marxist standpoint, or is it criticizing Marxism itself — and the failure of the left — from a standpoint of disillusionment? I lean toward the former, but the answer will depend on how you interpret the film's symbols, and consequently will vary from viewer to viewer. "The Sun's Burial" explores the nature of revolution in a fashion reminiscent of Tarr's "Werckmeister Harmonies". Tensions mount and ultimately boil over, but where Tarr depicts regret, Ôshima, I think, depicts only necessity.
Filmmakers like Ôshima and Pasolini have created a truly revolutionary cinema, in that it forces us to reckon with aspects of human nature that we'd rather leave buried. Godard fancied himself a revolutionary once, but was too busy theorizing and intellectualizing to be truly revolutionary. I should make a point to say that, in their own right, I cherish Godard's films as much as anyone else's (see "For Ever Mozart" for another fantastic reflection on political disillusionment), but it's worth noting the distinction between what is radical, and what is truly revolutionary. Of course, each viewer will make his own determination of how much value to place in this idea of revolutionary cinema. I don't place a great deal of value in it in and of itself — I'm not a political person — but I do deeply appreciate Ôshima's insistence on showing us things we don't want to see, as if that in itself might prove an antidote to the very problems he depicts on screen.
I'm not entirely sure if I agree with that notion or not, but I've never felt that agreement is a prerequisite for respect, and my respect for Ôshima could span mountains. "The Sun's Burial" is not a masterpiece, but it's a very strong film, and a must-see for anyone who'd like to develop their understanding of political cinema.
RATING: 8.00 out of 10 stars
If I had grown up in Japan in the '50s, and seen this film released in 1960 as only Ôshima's third feature as a director, I might not have as many great things to say about it. I would recognize its audacity and, on some level, its intelligence — certainly its social relevance — but the greatest insights the film offers, and my deepest moments of appreciation for its themes and ideas, which were only really possible with some of Ôshima's later work in mind, would have probably been largely lacking from the viewing experience.
Like so many leftist filmmakers who engaged Marxist, communist ideology in cinema, Ôshima ended up disillusioned with the ideals he presumably once cherished. This may partially be a result of the naive underbelly of Marxist ideals, which comprise a faith in humanity that rarely proves in keeping with reality, or it may simply be human nature. Human beings are impatient — often too impatient to wait the time it takes for an idea to seep into the fabric of society — and generally unprepared to deal with the frustration of reality; specifically, the reality that ideals almost inevitably give way to human passions, obsessions, and self-serving behavior. Of course, not everyone will agree with this sentiment — and it is their prerogative not to — but it was certainly the defining sentiment behind Ôshima's unique career as a filmmaker.
The earliest film I've been able to see by Ôshima was his second effort, "Naked Youth", made in 1960, the same year as "The Sun's Burial". Both films feature a portrait of troubled youth that makes "The Outsiders" look like a walk in the garden. Ôshima's camera works in extremely close quarters. He gives us close-ups, but they are the polar opposite of Hollywood's beauty shots. They are, in fact, ugliness shots. Ôshima doesn't look closer in order to see the beauty of faces too perfect to be real, nor does he do it in order to enhance the emotional content of his images; rather, Ôshima looks close in order to see every possible flaw in the human condition, every ounce of ugliness and despair that we might otherwise polish over by maintaining a safe distance from our subject matter. Criticize Ôshima if you must, but one thing that can never be doubted is his commitment to his subject. Much like Pasolini, he gets deep, down, and dirty with the depravity he portrays in his films. He doesn't treat human suffering and degradation with Visconti's rubber gloves, as if afraid to dirty his hands with his own subject matter, nor does he share Hollywood's romanticism. Ôshima is authentic in this regard. He is not portraying misery for dramatic effect. There is absolutely nothing romantic in Ôshima's depiction of poverty.
I'm a bit ambivalent as to whether or not "The Sun's Burial" is a purely Marxist film, or whether it's already expressing the disillusionment with those ideas that Ôshima would ultimately become known for. A bit further into the '60s, Ôshima would make films like "Violence at Noon", in which this disillusionment is evident on an undeniable level, and then, eventually, in the early '70s, films like "In the Realm of the Senses", in which any pretense of political material has been dropped all together, and the only thing left to witness is Ôshima's stunning (and sometimes gratuitous) deconstruction of human self-destructiveness.
Is the "The Sun's Burial" criticizing society from a Marxist standpoint, or is it criticizing Marxism itself — and the failure of the left — from a standpoint of disillusionment? I lean toward the former, but the answer will depend on how you interpret the film's symbols, and consequently will vary from viewer to viewer. "The Sun's Burial" explores the nature of revolution in a fashion reminiscent of Tarr's "Werckmeister Harmonies". Tensions mount and ultimately boil over, but where Tarr depicts regret, Ôshima, I think, depicts only necessity.
Filmmakers like Ôshima and Pasolini have created a truly revolutionary cinema, in that it forces us to reckon with aspects of human nature that we'd rather leave buried. Godard fancied himself a revolutionary once, but was too busy theorizing and intellectualizing to be truly revolutionary. I should make a point to say that, in their own right, I cherish Godard's films as much as anyone else's (see "For Ever Mozart" for another fantastic reflection on political disillusionment), but it's worth noting the distinction between what is radical, and what is truly revolutionary. Of course, each viewer will make his own determination of how much value to place in this idea of revolutionary cinema. I don't place a great deal of value in it in and of itself — I'm not a political person — but I do deeply appreciate Ôshima's insistence on showing us things we don't want to see, as if that in itself might prove an antidote to the very problems he depicts on screen.
I'm not entirely sure if I agree with that notion or not, but I've never felt that agreement is a prerequisite for respect, and my respect for Ôshima could span mountains. "The Sun's Burial" is not a masterpiece, but it's a very strong film, and a must-see for anyone who'd like to develop their understanding of political cinema.
RATING: 8.00 out of 10 stars
Best Oshima film in my opinion
Lloyd Flanagan16 July 2000
This movie manages to undo every romantic notion of poverty and life in the slums anyone might have. The characters here are not noble, or unfortunate and they are not victims. They are simply all cruel animals clawing on each other to get to the top of the jar. Every character's face is continually covered with sweat and if they are not afflicted with some deformity you can usually see the bones under their meager flesh. There is little distinction of charcters in the film. It is like an entymologists film of an ant-colony. Oshima's best film in my opinion, it doesn't suffer from the misogyny of "Cruel Story of Youth." or the try hard porno universe of "In the Realm of the Senses". These things are combined with a brutal realism that makes this film the most surreal and shocking, but without trying to be.
The sun's burial-An early Nagisa Oshima film which depicted the insignificant lives of petty criminals in Osaka.
FilmCriticLalitRao2 November 2015
Japanese director Nagisa Oshima's cinema can be divided into two distinctly unique periods; both of which were seen before and after his classics of erotic cinema genre 'In the realm of the senses' and 'Empire of passion'. Japanese film 'The Sun's Burial' belongs to his early period, a time of discovery of Japanese society especially its riffraff. Like his contemporary colleague cineaste Shohei Imamura, Oshima chooses to remain neutral in order to depict the meanness of his characters. Neither men nor women have been spared as all their crimes as well as weaknesses have been portrayed with utmost honesty. All of them have been shown as they have always been. Much of this film's strength comes in the form of depiction of a criminal world in Osaka where it is 'each man for himself'. It is a world in which innocence has either been lost or has absolutely no meaning for criminals. It is in the midst of a harsh climate of deception that the sun disappears for criminal elements in Osaka,Japan. The name of director Nagisa Oshima invariably springs to mind each time a discussion about Japanese cinema is carried out. For this reason only,he continues to be as much a revered figure as other masters from Japan such as Kurosawa, Mizoguchi and Ozu.
Dark and brilliant...
sbursuc-129 July 2007
Haunting, melodic, melancholic, poetic... many more praising adjectives suit this movie. It marks the birth of Japanese modern cinema. Oshima brilliantly continues the masters Mizoguchi and Ozu, while at the same time marking a big turn in style and themes.
The movie is modern in both: style and themes. I dare saying that this style marked many great contemporary directors (as different as Tarantino, Jia Zhang-KE or Michael Mann). It has, for instance, a questioning and a renewal of the dramatic content that a scene can exhibit. Another novelty in Oshima's style is the manner in which he treats social themes: a mixture of documentary-style and fiction-style, greatly developed later by Jia Zhang Ke, and having an affiliation with the French nouvelle vague (the time overlap is no coincidence).
As for the themes: even if Mizoguchi was already interested in social problems and their reflection upon the individual, he was never so pessimistic as Oshima. Watch the movie and you'll see what I mean. But, in spite of a much more cruel view upon society, Oshima has the same deep message as Mizoguchi: the beauty. You can see it in every scene. Look carefully: there is much light in this dark movie!
The movie is modern in both: style and themes. I dare saying that this style marked many great contemporary directors (as different as Tarantino, Jia Zhang-KE or Michael Mann). It has, for instance, a questioning and a renewal of the dramatic content that a scene can exhibit. Another novelty in Oshima's style is the manner in which he treats social themes: a mixture of documentary-style and fiction-style, greatly developed later by Jia Zhang Ke, and having an affiliation with the French nouvelle vague (the time overlap is no coincidence).
As for the themes: even if Mizoguchi was already interested in social problems and their reflection upon the individual, he was never so pessimistic as Oshima. Watch the movie and you'll see what I mean. But, in spite of a much more cruel view upon society, Oshima has the same deep message as Mizoguchi: the beauty. You can see it in every scene. Look carefully: there is much light in this dark movie!
Engaging and Thought Provoking
nicholhawking8 February 2003
Warning: Spoilers
Some spoilers follow: I haven't actually watched any other Oshima movies, although I certainly intend to after seeing this. The plot can be hard to follow at times, as the characters are almost all selfish, greedy, and naive. Even Takeshi, the innocent pseudo hero can't save himself from the self-centered, violent lifestyle he is surrounded by. As downright despicable as nearly all of the characters are, one has to admire Hanako's ability to survive, and also be the cleanest person in the movie. How she keeps that dress so clean is beyond me, but perhaps it is a metaphor for her unique ability to see a way past the slum. Even the doctor that Shin corrupts shows the gradual decay all the slummers have in common. As they lose hope, and fail to see the light at the end of the tunnel, their clothes are stained, darkened, ripped, and worn. As a commentary on depravity, this movie is excellent, as an examination of deceit and betrayal, a classic. The film's title, Grave of the Sun, can be construed as an allusion to the fall of the Japanese empire, and indeed the characters who believe they can rebuild the empire by exploiting the Japanese, and selling their identities to foreigners indeed suffer the most. (But even so, just about everyone in this movie suffers pretty badly.) Note that it takes place in the slums of Osaka, where they speak a colorful, unique Japanese dialect. One girl in my Japanese Film class said 'they might as well be speaking Chinese.' Not quite, but it would be hard to follow without subtitles.
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