The other night, I watched the film The City of Life and Death (also known as Nanjing! Nanjing!), which was released in April 2009.  Being pretty familiar with the Nanjing Massacre, I thought I knew what to expect from the film.  And in many respects, it was what I expected.  It showed the atrocities of war, the brutality of the Japanese soldiers in 1937, and the torment of the civilians (especially the women) in Nanjing at that time.  It shows disappointment, love, confusion, hope, and despair, all as expected.

What I did not expect, though, was the relatively sympathetic picture of one of the Japanese characters.  In Kadokawa, we get the idea that seeing what his compatriots were doing was not easy.  It is probably the first time that I’ve seen any representation by a Chinese artist that suggests that there might have been a Japanese soldier or two during that time that was not a complete monster.  I liked the way this was treated in the movie.

The filming of The City of Life and Death was very nicely done.  I really liked the choice to go with a black and white film.  Several of the shots look exactly like photos I’ve seen of Nanjing during the horrify days of December 1937.  It was put together in such a way, for the most part, that let the viewer feel as if those photos were coming to life on the screen.

Of all the things that impressed me, perhaps what I liked most (or at least, what most got me to thinking) was the dance of the Japanese soldiers toward the end of the film, with the practice scenes showed earlier.  It was a victory dance, but also a time to honor their own dead soldiers (as the white boxes and the placing of flowers and incense in front of the slabs with the names of the deceased suggest).  Kadokawa here, as through much of the film, provides us with a certain point of view that reminds us that there are two sides to what is going on amongst the Japanese.  The most obvious is the brutality and cruelty.  But there is also a matter of pride, honor, or something else that I can’t quite put a finger on.  And there is a feeling of sadness and meaninglessness that seems to underlie it all.  This one Japanese soldier in the midst of a whole lot who qualify as that monster of the stereotype serves to disrupt the whole image we have of the Japanese army and it’s bloodthirsty nature during that era.  It doesn’t, of course, bring the whole image tumbling down (and a look at history shows that the image is well-deserved), but it does remind us that at the individual level, there might have been things going on that are not recorded in the history books.  And for me, thinking of that makes the whole scene of the atrocities at Nanjing all the worse.

Kadokawa gives me just a little bit of hope.  Throughout the film, it is obvious that he identifies with the women.  In the early dance scene, when he is practicing, his friend says he is dancing the woman’s part.  His subsequent interactions with the prostitute, his sympathy with the comfort women, and especially his brief encounters with Jiang Laoshi all work to show us that, even in the worst of situations, there is a chance that one might just learn to identify with the Other, the oppressed and downtrodden who, without the sympathy and aid of those in a position to help, have no hope at all.  The help one soldier can offer might be rather paltry, but if there had been more Kadokawas, perhaps there would not have been a Rape of Nanjing.  The trick is figuring out how to duplicate that ability to identify with the Other in more and more of those who are in a position to either oppress or assist — and it has to be done one soldier at a time.

There’s a lot packed into this film.  I am glad I watched it.  I think it is a great movie, even though I know it is one that some more sensitive viewers would have a difficult time watching.  (It’s rough — obviously not for everyone.)  I am glad for the treatment the whole event receives in this fine movie.  I can only imagine the emotional turmoil Lu Chuan must have experienced when researching the film.  He did an excellent job of managing the difficult material, resulting in perhaps the best treatment this troubling event in history has ever received on film.  Certainly it is the best I have seen.