The Human Condition isn't an easy trilogy; it offers up tons of questions that even today have extreme relevance, particularly about man's duty to himself, to love and family, to country, to affiliation by an Emperor or Dictator, and what it is that's so insane about men in the staggering pit of hell known as war. As one can see in the second installment, The Road to Eternity, even what should be simple in a conventional war movie is turned just a bit to see the ugliness underneath. The first half of the film is Kaji, the trilogy's protagonist, in basic training and witness to more brutality towards the weak Obara (very well cast Kunie Tanaka) who commits suicide following a string of humiliations that are like Private Pyle squared Japan WW2, and how Kaji comes to grips with being a very good, disciplined soldier- the likes of which the army wants to control as they promote him- and, crucially, his last night spent with his wife Machiko (very tender performance from Aratama).
The second half is Kaji off on the front lines, leading up to a big, climactic battle between Soviet and Japanese forces, which is a total horror. Although Kobayashi only goes so far to make these battle scenes dynamic (that is compared to today's battle scenes, which have far more money and just a smidgen more gore to work with), it's overall another incredible accomplishment, as story and character matter always more-so than grandiose visuals or pomposity. We see Kaji going through another level of change, as he's stripped of his "exemption" status and is now just another grunt in this rigidly regimented military, and where, as is expected but no less mortifying, the Japanese see no sign of victory despite all signs pointing otherwise.
As in the first film, Kobayashi delivers moments of beauty, almost at times without trying. I absolutely was floored when the prairie fire scene turned into a desperate chase between Kaji and an escaping Shinjo, where what could have been a basic chase incorporated the fire and smoke and mud-piles into something else entirely. Or, indeed, little moments that suddenly make one's mouth agape, such as the freak-out from a soldier in the midst of the battle foaming at the mouth. If a few scenes might appear to be of the conventional sort (at least as much as Kobayashi would ever allow in this iconoclast approach), they're off-set by the wonderful performances, not least of which by Nakadai. Again he gives it his all, and matures just a little more, and displays a kind of bridge that Kaji is on between the kind-hearted but firm ways of No Greater Love and the, dare I say it, near bad-ass persona in Soldier's Prayer.
It's another great entry in an impeccable trilogy, if maybe not quite as awe-inspiring as the final film.
The second half is Kaji off on the front lines, leading up to a big, climactic battle between Soviet and Japanese forces, which is a total horror. Although Kobayashi only goes so far to make these battle scenes dynamic (that is compared to today's battle scenes, which have far more money and just a smidgen more gore to work with), it's overall another incredible accomplishment, as story and character matter always more-so than grandiose visuals or pomposity. We see Kaji going through another level of change, as he's stripped of his "exemption" status and is now just another grunt in this rigidly regimented military, and where, as is expected but no less mortifying, the Japanese see no sign of victory despite all signs pointing otherwise.
As in the first film, Kobayashi delivers moments of beauty, almost at times without trying. I absolutely was floored when the prairie fire scene turned into a desperate chase between Kaji and an escaping Shinjo, where what could have been a basic chase incorporated the fire and smoke and mud-piles into something else entirely. Or, indeed, little moments that suddenly make one's mouth agape, such as the freak-out from a soldier in the midst of the battle foaming at the mouth. If a few scenes might appear to be of the conventional sort (at least as much as Kobayashi would ever allow in this iconoclast approach), they're off-set by the wonderful performances, not least of which by Nakadai. Again he gives it his all, and matures just a little more, and displays a kind of bridge that Kaji is on between the kind-hearted but firm ways of No Greater Love and the, dare I say it, near bad-ass persona in Soldier's Prayer.
It's another great entry in an impeccable trilogy, if maybe not quite as awe-inspiring as the final film.