'Ikuru' (Japanese for 'To Live') was one of Kurosawa's personal favorites. Prominent film critics worldwide put it, along with "Seven Samurai" and "Rashomon", on their lists of the best films ever made by anyone.
When first shown in the USA during the 1950's , all three quickly earned widespread critical acclaim and strong patronage. USA film enthusiasts by then had clearly grown weary of the tired formulas followed by Hollywood studios in the timid post-war years. They welcomed the more thoughtful and challenging films from Kurosawa and from other acclaimed film directors in Japan (Ozu and Misoguchi), Italy (Rosselini, De Sica), France (Troufault, Bresson), and England (Lean).
All of these great film directors were also able to hold and move their audiences while developing somber themes. 'Ikuru', however, is even more deeply philosophical than any other film that I recall by asking what is needed for us 'to live' well.
Takashi Shimura gives an absolutely convincing performance of a tired old man, numb and alone. After learning he has terminal cancer, he learns that dissipation offers no solution. Then he clings to a cute, vivacious girl, taking her to shops and restaurants. She wearies of his dreary, cringing manner but agrees to have one more dinner together.
In the powerful climactic scene at the restaurant, he learns why she is happy in her new job packaging toys. 'I feel all the babies in Japan are my friends!!'
This gives him an idea. He, too, can do something to help children. 'There's still time!!', he cries, and runs off while she stares in bewilderment. He keeps moving quickly towards his cheerful new life.
Shimura reminded me of Albert Camus' essay 'The Myth of Sisyphus.' Sisyphus plods off to yet another day of struggle but has won over the gods, after all, because he is aware of his quest.
'We must imagine Sisyphus happy,' urges Camus. We must also feel the same for the old man in Ikuru when we see how he is reborn and truly alive for the first time.
When first shown in the USA during the 1950's , all three quickly earned widespread critical acclaim and strong patronage. USA film enthusiasts by then had clearly grown weary of the tired formulas followed by Hollywood studios in the timid post-war years. They welcomed the more thoughtful and challenging films from Kurosawa and from other acclaimed film directors in Japan (Ozu and Misoguchi), Italy (Rosselini, De Sica), France (Troufault, Bresson), and England (Lean).
All of these great film directors were also able to hold and move their audiences while developing somber themes. 'Ikuru', however, is even more deeply philosophical than any other film that I recall by asking what is needed for us 'to live' well.
Takashi Shimura gives an absolutely convincing performance of a tired old man, numb and alone. After learning he has terminal cancer, he learns that dissipation offers no solution. Then he clings to a cute, vivacious girl, taking her to shops and restaurants. She wearies of his dreary, cringing manner but agrees to have one more dinner together.
In the powerful climactic scene at the restaurant, he learns why she is happy in her new job packaging toys. 'I feel all the babies in Japan are my friends!!'
This gives him an idea. He, too, can do something to help children. 'There's still time!!', he cries, and runs off while she stares in bewilderment. He keeps moving quickly towards his cheerful new life.
Shimura reminded me of Albert Camus' essay 'The Myth of Sisyphus.' Sisyphus plods off to yet another day of struggle but has won over the gods, after all, because he is aware of his quest.
'We must imagine Sisyphus happy,' urges Camus. We must also feel the same for the old man in Ikuru when we see how he is reborn and truly alive for the first time.