Film Review - Ikiru (1952)

Akira Kurosawa was one of Japan’s greatest filmmakers. While he’s often celebrated for his bold, ambitious filmmaking, as seen in Rashomon or Seven Samurai, it is in his frequent explorations of human nature that the power of his work shines brightest. 1952’s Ikiru is much quieter than some of his more known pictures, yet its deep-rooted humanism has ensured enthusiasm and longevity for the film among cinephiles.

Ikiru translates to the phrase “to live” – a fitting title. Kanji Watanabe (Takashi Shimaru) has worked the same boring job for 30 years. He’s the section chief of Public Affairs, but the bureaucracy of indifference that informs the work culture means concerns are hardly addressed, with endless stacks of papers behind Watanabe’s desk. When Watanabe is diagnosed with stomach cancer he is struck with an existential crisis, realising he has done nothing of value with his life. Thus begins his search for a purpose in his remaining days.

Kurosawa and team really go to great lengths to emphasise the monotony of Watanabe’s initial life. He’s a man near retirement, working for a department that passes the buck on people’s issues at every opportunity. He’s a widower who never remarried, and his adult son is solely interested in getting the inheritance. His colleagues even speculate if Watanabe’s had the same lunch for 30 years. Close-up shots are particularly weaponised to show the dullness of a life like this. The sets feel cramped with their abundance of props and actors occupying them. The close-up cinematography provides tight framing, as if the characters are stuck in one place and unable to move.

Yet there is also an intimacy to the pacing and direction. Those same close-ups that showcase immobility also hint at the deeper emotions underneath, such as emphasising small actions taken by the characters. When Watanabe hears that he has stomach ulcers, he drops his coat, a tiny but significant act akin to a needle drop – the first sign of his life crashing around him. The story greatly sympathises with Watanabe, a man who, for all his enabling of his work place’s bureaucratic apathy, has done his best with the cards he has been dealt. Upon learning his diagnosis he initially loses himself to drink and despair, the string music of the score hinting at the temptation of surrendering to fate. But when the romantic 1915 ballad Gondola no Uta plays at the bar – namely the lyric “life is brief” – Watanabe finally sheds tears and vows to accomplish something in the little time he has left. It’s a heart-breaking but wonderful moment that emerges from the tragedy of the film’s circumstances – one of many that make this picture so moving.

Shimaru was one of Kurosawa’s most frequent collaborators, playing a number of intricate and compelling characters for the filmmaker. Watanabe might be his greatest role. The beauty of the character, and the performance, lies in the simplicity. He could be any one of us – an ordinary person just trying to wade through capitalist lifestyles until the inevitable end. Yet the resolve he finds in his confrontation with mortality is inspiring and heartfelt. His arc is so impactful because it’s so identifiable, and Shimaru brings out the vulnerability, defeatism and eventual bravery that makes the character so engrossing. It’s a performance for the ages.

There are deeper commentaries going on here too, namely how bureaucracy and apathy can erode communities, family life and one’s inner spirit. Watanabe’s choices in the second half are in the pursuit of giving back to the people he should’ve been serving, which further emphasises this. But whatever your takeaway, the resounding humanism of the picture is what makes it so special. It may denounce dispassionate institutions, but it is first and foremost a declaration on what humanity can be within the small amount of time we walk on this earth. As the ballad goes, life is brief, yet this briefness is precisely what makes life so beautiful.

Ikiru is such a stunning work of poignancy because it values and champions the importance of life and one’s self. That resonance has only grown in the decades since its release. While the film is labelled a tragedy, and it is often sad, it is all about individualism, and how embracing life can lead to greater happiness and fulfilment. It is not a eulogy but a celebration. Even among his vast treasure trove of iconic movies, Ikiru stands out as one of Kurosawa’s greatest.