• 乾いた花 (Pale Flower)

6/15/21 (Tues)

Shinoda Masahiro’s 1963 nihilistic yakuza noir film is long on atmosphere, short on narrative, aiming mainly to show the emptiness of the hero Muraki’s life, a not-uncommon theme in Japan in those days after the Anpo (US-Japan Security Treaty) protests. Coming out of prison after a two-year sentence for murder, Muraki sees the bustling people in the streets as “animals” and expresses no remorse for killing a man (“What was so wrong about killing one of these stupid beasts?”), which he did only upon orders from above rather than for revenge or some noble purpose. (“I killed a man I had no reason to kill. It was just a matter of whose number came up, whose turn it was…But when I stabbed him, I felt more alive than ever.”) He gambles on races and cards to fill the void in his life, and sex with his girlfriend is much the same. He is drifting with no purpose. (“I’m no good. Even I think so. I’m the scum of the earth…But still, I forgive myself.”)

Things change when he encounters the mysterious Saeko at a card game, taken by her cool daring as she flings down large sums with aplomb. While hailing from a well-to-do family, she appears bored with life like Muraki and seeks her thrills in high-stakes gambling, dangerous drag races, and ultimately drugs provided by a handsome dealer. Muraki becomes fixated with her, especially in comparison with his conventional girlfriend, who begs him to stay with her (he responds dismissively that her breath stinks). The unpredictable risk-taking Saeko proves more attractive. Unhappy with her drift to drugs, Muraki makes a desperate attempt to lure her back by accepting a final yakuza job that would provide her the ultimate temptation – the chance to see a murder.

Shinoda was an assistant to Ozu, and it shows in the careful framing of his scenes, though the contents in his case are highly stylized. The hanafuda games in particular, taken from various angles, were realistic and tense, including the exchanged looks between Muraki and Saeko. I have no idea how the game is actually played, but the various actions, such as the hiding of the tile under the towel and the loud clacking of the tiles on the board, made it feel authentic, and the point in any case was the intensity of the play rather than the game itself.

Some odd touches crept in, like the expressionistic dream sequence in which Muraki, looking through a hole in wall, sees his lover with another man. The director doesn’t seem overly concerned with creating natural scenes or true-to-life characters. In one case, Muraki strangely shows no reaction at all when Saeko is driving recklessly through the nighttime streets like a madwoman – no one can be that cool. There are a few poetic moments (“I loved watching wild geese fly when I was a kid. Don’t see many these days. They’re all gone”), but overall the style is unapologetically artificial. Shinoda continued in that manner with his bizarre Double Suicide, though he calmed down just a few years later in Silence and subsequent efforts. But his restless approach fits the theme of Japan’s post-war loss of purpose. It questions the concept of loyalty as a way to give shape to one’s life (Muraki kills and goes to prison on behalf of lazy bosses who sit back and reap the gains), turning the yakuza genre on its head. Ikabe Ryo and especially Kaga Mariko are both fine as the two leads. The film’s misleading English title, incidentally, would be better rendered as dried-up or wilted flower, referring to Saeko, the hanafuda card games (hana meaning flower), and the washed-up ideals of the main characters. An exhausting but fascinating film.