For this week’s Hidden Treasures, I present three films from the Far East; two from Japan (each one directed by a legendary filmmaker from that country) and one from Vietnam. Check them out if you can. I promise you won’t regret it.

Rhapsody in August (1991)
Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky once said, “Relating a person to the whole world, that is the meaning of cinema”. In fact, this is one of the aspects of motion pictures that I find most appealing. Seeing as I don’t have the means to travel as much as I would like to, I must rely on films to “broaden my horizons”. In essence, movies are my window into the world. What I saw through the window of Akira Kurosawa’s Rhapsody in August really started me to thinking. Kane (Sachiko Murase) is an elderly woman who lives on a small farm just outside Nagasaki. When she learns that her long-lost brother, who had moved to Hawaii years before the outbreak of World War II, is dying, it stirs up a deep, personal conflict within her. The horrible memories of the Atomic bombing of 1945, in which her husband was killed, remain fresh in Kane’s mind, as does her dislike of anything American. Her nephew, Clark (Richard Gere), himself an American, is sent to escort Kane to the United States so that she may visit her brother, but she remains apprehensive. Torn between her obligations to her brother and her unresolved emotions towards Americans, Kane searches for an answer, bringing the horrors of that hot August day in 1945 to the surface once again. With Rhapsody in August, Kurosawa addresses one of the most disturbing of human characteristics; the tendency to overlook the events of the past, no matter how horrible these events may be. I myself learned very little about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki during my school days. Yet where my history books failed me, Rhapsody in August was able to pick up the pieces, revealing the emotions, the deep resentments, and the unspeakable devastation that befell the everyday lives of Nagasaki’s residents. It has succeeded in broadening my horizons, and I trust it will broaden yours as well.

Floating Weeds (1959)
The films of director Yasujiro Ozu are at their best when tapping into the traditions and customs of Post-War Japan, and there is no better example of this than his 1959 classic, Floating Weeds. A traveling troupe of actors, under the leadership of longtime performer Komajuro (Ganjiro Nakamura), has just arrived at a quiet fishing village, where they will stage their next performance. As members of his troupe post notices around town, Komajuro pays a visit to Oyoshi (Haruka Sugimura), a former lover who now owns a sake bar. Years earlier, Komajiro and Oyoshi conceived a child together, a now-teenage son named Kiyoshi (Hiroshi Kawaguchi). Fearful that the truth will lead to unnecessary heartache, Komajiro has decided that his son must never know he is the father. His secret is threatened, however, when Komajuro’s current lover, Sumiko (Machiko Kyo), a fellow performer, learns of the boy’s existence, and jealously seeks to expose the truth to the unsuspecting Kiyoshi. As was Ozu’s style, Floating Weeds is very straightforward in its approach. The camera rarely moves from a still position, and even the colorful stage shows of the acting troupe are presented with little pomp or fanfare. For Ozu, the camera was simply the means by which he could capture interactions, conversations, and emotions. Whereas cinema is considered by many to be the ultimate forum for exploring one’s imagination, Ozu chose a more cerebral approach to film. For him, two characters with something to say to one another was all the imagination he required.

Vertical Ray of the Sun (2000)
Director Ahn Hung Tran’s Vertical Ray of the Sun is a beautiful film, not to mention a beautiful experience. In Hanoi, Vietnam, three sisters are preparing for a banquet in honor of their deceased parents. Suong (Nguyen Nhu Quynh), the eldest sister, owns the small café where the memorial will take place. Khanh (Le Khanh), the middle sister, has recently discovered she’s pregnant, and both she and her husband, Kien (Tran Manh Cuong), are thrilled by the news. Their younger sister, Lien (Tran Nu Yen-Khe), is unmarried, and shares an apartment with their brother, Hai (Ngo Quang Hai). All three are dealing in their own way with the recent discovery that, years earlier, their mother may have had an extra-marital affair. As they delve deeper into their parents past, each sister must also confront varying levels of deceit in their own relationships as well. In conjuncture with these complex, yet well-established, interrelationships, Vertical Ray of the Sun also features the artistic cinematography of Pin Bing Lee, whose exquisite use of imagery is the perfect match for the story at hand. Alive with poetry and the energy of performance, Vertical Ray of the Sun is pure beauty played out over 112 minutes.