Ikiru (1952)
“I can't afford to hate people. I don't have that kind of time.” – Kanji Watanabe
Ikiru is not a fast-paced film. But given the fate of the protagonist, the pace of the film is most appropriate. We are introduced in the very first frame to the fact that the lead character, Kanji Watanabe, has an inoperable stomach cancer. The doctors do not tell him this: they claim it is just an ulcer. But Watanabe knows the truth as he was warned by another concerned patient that if the doctor tells you that you do not have to worry about your diet, it is a sign that you do not have an ulcer. What follows is a slow-moving, contemplative film.
For most people, this grim prognosis would send them down a path of depression and solitude. Watanabe, however, lives a rather monotonous and meaningless life. His son, the only family Watanabe is shown to have, pays no attention to him. At work, Watanabe finds that his job is so riddled with bureaucracy that nothing is ever accomplished. Inspired by his ominous fate, Watanabe begins to really live life and find meaning: determined to leave his mark on the world. This idea that one person can make an honest difference in the world, given an early deadline, is a timeless human fable. That we are inspired to leave our mark as soon as we come to realize our mortality is a deeply personal endeavour, but one that often becomes selfishly motivated. This is not the case of Kanji Watanabe, he does not care about immortalizing himself, he truly just wants to make the world, or even just his own little neighbourhood, a better place. This better place is symbolized by the construction of a playground, but the bureaucratic hurdles that Watanabe must jump to reach his goal are daunting.
There is a twist two hours into the film that will leave some audiences perplexed and confounded, when the film’s focus shifts from Watanabe to a group of businessmen interpreting Watanabe’s final days and actions after he has passed, but the new direction is essential for the film’s final commentary on human nature. Although Watanabe did not pursue his new venture with the goal of immortalization in mind, it is interesting to watch Watanabe’s colleagues and acquaintances analyze his change of heart and the actions made prior to his death. Because Watanabe acted so uncharacteristically and so selflessly, the group is unable to comprehend Watanabe’s final months, but they try to with mixed results.
The film’s most famous shot is also its most beautiful. A physically exhausted, yet emotionally satisfied, Watanabe is seated on a swing in an empty park. It is the middle of the night and it is snowing lightly, giving the scene its visually haunting quality. Watanabe swings gently and quietly sings a song about the fleeting nature of life and love. This park exists only because of the efforts of Watanabe in the last few months of his life. Watanabe, having regained his passion for life, is now ready to leave it behind.
“I can't afford to hate people. I don't have that kind of time.” – Kanji Watanabe
Ikiru is not a fast-paced film. But given the fate of the protagonist, the pace of the film is most appropriate. We are introduced in the very first frame to the fact that the lead character, Kanji Watanabe, has an inoperable stomach cancer. The doctors do not tell him this: they claim it is just an ulcer. But Watanabe knows the truth as he was warned by another concerned patient that if the doctor tells you that you do not have to worry about your diet, it is a sign that you do not have an ulcer. What follows is a slow-moving, contemplative film.
For most people, this grim prognosis would send them down a path of depression and solitude. Watanabe, however, lives a rather monotonous and meaningless life. His son, the only family Watanabe is shown to have, pays no attention to him. At work, Watanabe finds that his job is so riddled with bureaucracy that nothing is ever accomplished. Inspired by his ominous fate, Watanabe begins to really live life and find meaning: determined to leave his mark on the world. This idea that one person can make an honest difference in the world, given an early deadline, is a timeless human fable. That we are inspired to leave our mark as soon as we come to realize our mortality is a deeply personal endeavour, but one that often becomes selfishly motivated. This is not the case of Kanji Watanabe, he does not care about immortalizing himself, he truly just wants to make the world, or even just his own little neighbourhood, a better place. This better place is symbolized by the construction of a playground, but the bureaucratic hurdles that Watanabe must jump to reach his goal are daunting.
There is a twist two hours into the film that will leave some audiences perplexed and confounded, when the film’s focus shifts from Watanabe to a group of businessmen interpreting Watanabe’s final days and actions after he has passed, but the new direction is essential for the film’s final commentary on human nature. Although Watanabe did not pursue his new venture with the goal of immortalization in mind, it is interesting to watch Watanabe’s colleagues and acquaintances analyze his change of heart and the actions made prior to his death. Because Watanabe acted so uncharacteristically and so selflessly, the group is unable to comprehend Watanabe’s final months, but they try to with mixed results.
The film’s most famous shot is also its most beautiful. A physically exhausted, yet emotionally satisfied, Watanabe is seated on a swing in an empty park. It is the middle of the night and it is snowing lightly, giving the scene its visually haunting quality. Watanabe swings gently and quietly sings a song about the fleeting nature of life and love. This park exists only because of the efforts of Watanabe in the last few months of his life. Watanabe, having regained his passion for life, is now ready to leave it behind.
"Life is so short/Fall in love, dear maiden."
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