The Human Condition
dir. Masaki Kobayashi, 1959, 574 min, B/W, Japan
Preface: In general, I hate war films. In terms of battle scenes, if you've seen one, you've seen them all.
The Human Condition is an epic. It originally appeared in 6 parts. All things considered, it could have been longer. The main character, Kaji, is a war objector who is assigned to supervise a prison camp. It is here that we see ethics played out. Do war prisoners deserve to be treated as humans? How do we treat our enemies? For Kaji, the answer is we treat all people as humans. His superiors tend to disagree. Their viewpoint is more along the lines of 'we are the guards--they are the prisoners, prisoners deserve what we feel like giving them.' Quickly Kaji is at odds with management, and finds himself in the middle. For management it is easier to remove him than to deal with him. This ends the first disc.
Disc 2 begins with Kaji sent to the military and he is now stuck in a different paradox--Is it just to kill? In wartime, the answer is usually yes, but Kaji isn't so sure. Is it better to take prisoners? That solution just moves back to the dilemma in disc 1. Through struggles, fleeting hopes, camaraderie, and rivalry, the 2nd disc ends with a battle, finding Kaji alone on the battlefield.
Disc 3 finds him a prisoner of war, now on the other side of the issue from the first part. His voice is consistent here, because his sympathy in the former has been replaced with cruel experience in the latter. He escapes and leads a group of strays toward a vague and fleeting home. Kaji is in search of his wife who he left behind when sent to the front. As the film trudges on, Kaji finds himself alone in the Siberian wilderness, struggling to his last step.
The Human Condition is a must for anyone. It's length may be a deterrent to some, but consider it a 3-6 night festival, and I think you'll be fine. The film grapples with real issues in a way that involves the audience, with penetrating close-ups, scenes of intimacy, and sprawling grandeurs. It attempts to remind us that for all our largeness, we are in fact, quite small. It is hard not to relate the marching scenes to ants streaming to their hill.
In a sense, the film may be considered myopic in that there is no happy ending. The hero doesn't win, even if he does get his revenge, escape from prison, and save helpless people along the way. The human condition is one of neverending toil. It is painted with grays, instead of blacks and whites. The human condition is littered with small victories and colossal defeats.
So, what positives can be said about the human condition? First, Kaji embodies the human spirit with his relentlessness. Who really cares if he succeeds? The film would be meaningless if he didn't keep struggling to his death. Our ethics, morals, ideas, and goals are all stomping on shaky ground. Our only true capability is to struggle--to journey. At the film's end all is stripped away and we are truly alone. There is no end in sight. There is no hope. There is only the struggle. If we take anything away from this film it is that we have only one choice in a situation--act within it. Our lives will end someday and it may all seem meaningless, but we'll never know unless we try.
As a theologian, this film can act as a type of spiritual journey. Ultimately, the worldview of the film is Godless, but even that is a de facto theology. At the beginning, Kaji is clear in his views. He stands for them in every situation. However, as he encounters injustices and confronts them he is continually beaten back. Eventually, he does grudgingly change some of his ideals--he does kill; he does leave people behind. At the end, his steadfastness is met with icy solitude. The same is true about the spiritual journey, it is ultimately a solitary pursuit. We can try to explain our steps, but we're inarticulate, and besides, who can really listen? No matter what our situation in life, as long as we can struggle we can take part in the Human Condition.
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