A Hundred Years of Japanese Film: A Concise History, with a Selective Guide to DVDs and Videos [Paperback]

More than just a chronological history of Japanese movie making, "A Hundred Years of Japanese Film" tells the tale of Japanese storytelling evolution, how the language of cinema evolved in Japan over the years and what the differences are, both overt and nuanced, between Western and Japanese film making traditions. The motion picture camera in the West was seen as an extension of photography, and thus naturalism was the implied goal. In Japan, the camera was thought of as an extension of theater. The first films were recorded versions of Kabuki plays, with men playing all the roles including the women, a tradition that carried on for a surprisingly long time in Japanese films. In this style, representationalism is considered more important than any attempt at "realism."

These roots can still be seen today, as many Western viewers are confused at the artificial nature of Japanese acting and film making. Richie explores this, as well as other uniquely Japanese film innovations such as the benshi, or silent film narrator, and how this affects modern films with their propensity for voice-over narrations explaining the plot.

But this is only the beginning. Richie takes us on a journey through the Japanese film, intermixed with the vast social upheavals of the Taisho period, the rise and fall of the WWII fervor, the post-war depression of spirit, and the constant battle between Western and Japanese influences on modern cinema, as well as the strange marriage between the two seen in film makers such as Kurosawa Akira, Kitano Takeshi and Miike Takeshi.

While there is an overview of almost every Japanese director, more time is spent exploring the visions of Mizoguchi Ken, Ozu Yasujiro, Kurosawa Akira, Itami Juzo ("Tampopo"), Oshima Nagisa ("In the Realm of the Senses") as well as other directors of note. Although there are not enough pages for a deep exploration, Richie shows how each of these milestone directors changed Japanese film in their own ways, and why they are important overall.

The single flaw in "A Hundred Years of Japanese Film" is that Richie seems to have a blind spot for Japanese animated films, and such powerhouse directors such as Miyazaki Hayao do not get the attention they deserve, but are instead lumped into a final chapter on animation. It seems that such directors should be considered in the overall chronology, rather than as a separate category, but this is not how they are portrayed.

But this is a minor complaint in what is an amazing book. For a text of this type, it is very easy to read and captivating. Richie's writing style keeps your interest over some of the most minor periods of film, and sparks your interest in some directors that you may never have heard of. In fact, the danger of "A Hundred Years of Japanese Film" lies in that soon you will find yourself on a desperate quest to hunt down and view some of the rare and tantalizing films described by Richie that fall out of the what may be at the local video store.

I have been a fan of Japanese films for many years, but until reading "A Hundred Years of Japanese Film" I cannot be said to have been an educated fan. The insights in this book have geometrically increased my appreciation of Japanese film, and revisiting old favorites is like seeing them with new eyes.

Make it past the cover - half a century of cinemagoing to his name, and Richie chooses the second-rate 'Gohatto'! - and most of what follows is highly recommended. But on page 246 Richie turns his attention to anime (Japanese animation), and soon finds space for the reactionary opinions of critic Kenji Sato (who bemoans "the thin, insubstantial reality of animation", dismissing everything from Starewicz to 'The Simpsons' in a half-dozen words) as well as several mistakes: Hayao Miyazaki's 'Princess Mononoke' is set in the Muromachi period (1392-1573), not "pre-history" (p.277); its American release was in 1999, not 2000 (p.251); and the original comic-book version of Katsuhiro Otomo's 'Akira' runs to six volumes, not four (p.250).

(Out of respect, I won't list the book's spelling errors. Suffice to say that they are there, as is a whopping historical blooper: I was in Japan when the Aum Shinrikyo doomsday cult nerve-gassed the Tokyo subway, and it wasn't in 1994!)

Understand that I'm not a fan of anime - most of it is cheap and/or nasty (though no more insubstantial than the average Hollywood blockbuster) - I'm a fan of Miyazaki, whose films are as superior to 'Pocket Monsters' as '2001: A Space Odyssey' is to 'The Adventures of Pluto Nash'. He is one of the most acclaimed directors in Japan today, not to mention the most popular. Richie does not have to be happy about this; he could at least acknowledge it. (According to the index, Miyazaki's latest masterpiece, the award-winning 'Spirited Away', is mentioned on p.251 - but turn to this page and there's nothing!)

Five out of five for the first 245 pages, minus one star for what's after that (from this point on it's the book that's thin and insubstantial, not animation) and another for shockingly sloppy proofreading.

I've seen this book assigned as the basic text for top college courses on Japanese cinema, and seen it praised by Amazon reviewers. Much as I hate to write about books I didn't like, I must make an exception here for the sake of future buyers. This is not college-level material, and it's way below five stars. It is a 200-page plus list of names and titles put in narrative form, with a batch of overly concise plot summaries at the back. None of the authors, works or topics mentioned ever gets more than a few lines of attention. You will be lucky to find a full paragraph on anything that you find interesting. Surprisingly for a history of cinema, the book gives no in-depth analyses of individual works or filmmakers' styles, makes no mention of the institutional developments in the filmmaking industry, and fails to position works within contemporary aesthetic movements or intellectual debates. In a word, this book is too superficial to be of any use.

As others noted, there are some perceptive observations scattered here and there, but these only serve to show how much better this author could have done, had he conceived this as something a little more substantial. The thing is, as far as I know there isn't a solid history of Japanese cinema in English around, and we have to make do with what is available.

Edit: I stand corrected. There IS a new history of Japanese cinema in English in print: Isolde Standish, A New History of Japanese Cinema.

› Go to Amazon.com to see all 13 reviews  4.3 out of 5 stars