October 3, 2013
No Blood Relation –
Japan, 1932
Mikio Naruse’s 1932 film, No Blood Relation, is a moving and powerful look at two women
fighting to be the mother of one rather darling young girl. One of these women
has a clear legal right to the child, and as she describes her guilt and
heartbreak over a decision she made that severed their relationship six years
earlier, it is hard not to empathize with her. On the other hand, the other
woman, who has spent the last six years of her life raising the little girl as
her own child - and by all accounts done an amazing job – has developed a
rapport with her that many parents would envy. In essence, then, the film
presents viewers with two decent, likeable characters and pits them against
each other. It is a struggle I found myself wanting both of them to win.
The two women are Kinuko (Yoshiko Okada), an actress
returning to Japan after a successful six-year stint in Hollywood that has made
her very wealthy, and Masako (Yukiko Tsukuba), the young woman who has taken
care of Kinuko’s daughter, Shigeko (Toshiko Kojima), for the past six years. In
the film’s opening scene, Kinuko confesses to members of the press that she
abandoned her child six years earlier in order to pursue a career in Hollywood
and has now returned to see if she can make amends. The scene is not entirely
credible, for which actress in her right mind would give such an admission of
scandal to members of the press? However, perhaps this is a sign that Kinuko,
having amassed a fortune, feels secure enough to speak from the heart.
Masako is in every way Kinuko’s opposite. She is the
housewife of Kinuko’s ex-husband, dresses conservatively, and exudes a sense of
sweetness and decency. Early on in the film, Naruse establishes the bond that
exists between Masako and Shigeko through a series of close-ups, and we watch
in amazement as their faces instantly light up in a way rarely seen on film. It
is an editing trick, of course, but I was astonished at how well the images fit
together. Shigeko calls out, “Mother,” Masako calls out, “Shigeko” and just
like that, we know all we need to know about these characters.
Along with the two female characters, the film introduces
viewers to Shunsaku Atsumi (Shin’yo Nara), Shiseko’s father, a good man whose
poor business decisions have left him broke and desperate. During an
interesting exchange, Masako implores her husband not to do anything rash or
illegal, and instead of assuming a look of disappointment or frustration, he
just looks at her with a look of ambiguous hopelessness. Another fascinating
character is Atsumi’s mother, Kishiyo (Fumiko Katsuragi), a woman who has never
known anything accept affluence and who early in the film proclaims that she
will never accept poverty. Rounding out the cast are Kinuko’s gangster brother,
his kleptomaniac assistant, and a poor neighbor named Masaya Kasukabe (Joji
Oka). This last character is a bit of an enigma, and I suspect viewers will
have different ideas about what motivates him to do as much as he does for
Masako.
The film presents viewers with both legal and moral
questions. Like Chaplin’s film, The Kid,
made eleven years earlier in 1921, we are asked to consider the very definition
of a family. We’re asked to consider what constitutes a mother and whether
blood should really be the factor determining who has custody of a child. We’re
asked to contemplate the depths to which someone will stoop to avoid
destitution and wonder whether deception under such circumstances can ever be
forgivable. And we’re shown examples of determination in the face of perhaps
insurmountable obstacles, and we marvel at the strength it takes to return for more
and the endurance it takes to go on despite evidence that what you want is
unattainable. As I watched the film, I felt I knew how it would end, but I did
not expect that what transpired would be so intense and emotional, and I did
not expect to be as conflicted as I found myself being.
The film’s one misstep is the kleptomaniac assistant, for
this character seems wholly inappropriate for a film as dramatic as this one is.
The reason for this is that the character exists purely for comic effect, and
it is simply not necessary in a film like this for the audience to laugh at
someone punching himself in the face or being unable to resist the impulse to
steal. However, the character will be familiar to anyone with experience
watching silent films. It is as if filmmakers at that time didn’t think an
audience could handle a film that was serious from start to finish.
No matter. The film remains both powerful and effective. It
demonstrates the growing skill of its great director and hints at the
masterpiece he produced later with Sound
of the Mountain. And if everything seems a bit too neatly wrapped up as the
film nears its conclusion, take comfort in the fact that it is an illusion, for
rarely has so much been conveyed with a simple gesture that is not made. Watch
it carefully. It is a moment to treasure. (on DVD as part of Eclipse’s DVD set Silent Naruse)
4 stars
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