The Naked Island

I was surfing on the t.v. and came across this incredible "little" film on a French Canadian station. As there is no dialogue and the story is so human and pure, it is truly the most universal picture I've seen. I defy anyone not to be moved by the challenges which the characters face, the realism in the minimalist acting and the beauty of the simplistic black and white camerawork. I've never heard of this film, but I will tell all my friends about it.

I remember this film from my student days. I saw it in an uptown, shabby, art house theatre (when art meant porn) in Philadelphia. I was amazed. As I recall, it is a film without dialog. Not silent, but no dialog. Black and white, but singularly visual. Three, maybe four characters with self- effacing directing and camera work, it was as intimate as small off-Broadway theatre. I've seen nothing since as cinematic, or moving. No one I've ever met, has seen it. But I remember it vividly.

In a time where cinema was in the whole world was still concerned by representation of lives and social studies, this movie is an intense an important piece. It's great! Strong, hard, oppressing, nice, and emotive. Everything in the hard (but sometimes amazing) life of those workers is showed in it... It's really something the cinema can do at his best. A social study showing every aspect of a style of life, with its private feelings and possible events (thoose who are saying nothing happens mustn't have watched the whole movie. I was surprised by the changing of rhythm in the last 30 minutes).

It's showing everything essential cinema can show: Life, conditions of life, feelings of those who are living, and it's showing it in a very good way. This is a touching and oppressive movie which could maybe even be used as an historical document (for history of the Japanese island farmers in the middle of the XX century) , but also as an intense fiction.

If you have ever wondered what a film would be like that exemplifies how the tools of the craft can be used to do powerfully what no other art can do, this film answers the question. It is among the most carefully wrought, least encumbered yet profound movies ever made. The fact that it has long been unavailable in America and Europe in any accessible format reflects very sadly upon us all. (Addendum 15 March 2008 for those of you with region-free players: the English distributor, Eureka, has thankfully released the original widescreen version of the movie in PAL format in its 'The Masters of Cinema Series', #12, with an optional commentary by Shindo and his composer, Hikaru Hayashi. Available from Amazon.uk.)

I came to the internet searching for information on this movie. Not only did I find it, but I found a comment that mirrored my own experience with the movie. I too saw it in my student days, nearly 30 years ago, in a Friday-night "cinema" series in the student union theater. I see it's listed as B&W; I remember it in color -- maybe colorized it in my head? No dialog, just music and environmental sound; gorgeous photography of the island, the sea, the brutally hard work ferrying water for the crops on the terraces. And we follow that work for a long long time; we go through impressed, to irritated (why don't they move to town for chrissake), to rage at being made to sit through this for so long, to numb resignation. So we're right where the characters are. Writhing in my seat, hoping it will come to an end. And then the brief scene that left me stunned, that made sense of all that lead up to it, two seconds of film that explain us in the universe. Like William, I've never met anyone else who's seen this movie. And I don't know if I could sit through it again. But I'm sure glad I did back then.