Ikiru

'Living' is its meaning, before you ask, and it is the name of an utterly powerful film by Kurosawa. This film produces such a torrent of superlatives that the mere presence of any other descriptive grammatical form seems an infringement on all norms of decency that are purported to exist in Western civilisation. Kurosawa's best, certainly, perhaps even of all Japanese cinema, the most convincing pondering on the human condition, Shimura's finest work etc. etc.

A faceless bureaucrat faces the ultimate existential quandry as he becomes acutely aware of his own transience. A terminal illness wakes him from his white collar somnabulance and he desperately seeks to find meaning from his empty, wasted life. The product: Ultimately, as the memory of his death fades, only indifference. Yet, there is triumph as he succeeds in building a children's playground, despite a host of obstacles from co-workers, family, even the mafia. It has, arguably, an uncomfortable pessimism but is truly a great work of art. The climax of the film is the bureaucrat Watanabe's uncontrollable contentment as he swings in his playground. The end has resolution, unlike, say, the rather mediocre Broken Flowers, but it much more convincing that some saccharine conclusion of a Capra. Bergmar produced similar works but Ikiru has that subtle humour that just tips the balance in Kurosawa's favour. To my mind many paralells can be drawn with Fellini, which is indeed a good thing.

Upon consideration one would find this general period very fecund for a certain style, a weariness and distrust for the conventions that sat uneasily upon the populaces of the world as they were coming to terms with the scale and impact of the Second World War. There is a miasmic aura of disillusionment and Satre and Camus seem to be on the unacknowledged periphery of all significant artworks. In America think of On the Waterfront and The Pornbroker, the latter an utterly underrated film, the former more acclaimed but both deserving of the highest accolades. In the UK from the troubled mind of Hancock was The Rebel. Of course I could and perhaps should list more, but, suffice it to say that when the glitz and glamour become jejune in the public's eyes, when big budget producers run out of special effects, it is to these types of films, to this genre that they will instinctively look.

Or not, but they're good films.