The Ceremony (Gishiki)

THE CEREMONY

Screenplay by TAKESHI TAMURA, MAMORU SASAKI, and NAGISA OSHIMA

Music by TORU TAKEMITSU

Cinematography by TOICHIRO NARUSHIMA

Production Design by JUSHO TODA

Sound by HIDEO NISHIZAKI

Starring

KENZO KAWARAZAKI

ATSUKO KAKU

ATSUO NAKAMURA KIYOSHI TSUCHIYA

NOBUKO OTOWA

HOSEI KOMATSU ROKKO TOURA FUMIO WATANABE

SHIZUE KAWARAZAKI CHISAKO HARA

MAKI TAKAYAMA SUE MITOBE

RYUICHI TSUBAKI YUMIN ARUSHIMA

YOSHIAKI OTA YUKIHIRO TSUBAKI

EITARO OZAWA TAIJITONO YAMA

AKIKO KOYAMA

KEI SATO

Produced by KINSHIRO KUZUI and TAKUJI YAMAGUCHI

Directed by NAGISA OSHIMA

THE CEREMONY

You're in a bind? I'm the one in a bind!

In any case, please hold off a day.

What, are you going to make the plane take off despite the weather?

If we don't hurry, we won't have time to proofread the obituary.

He's more important to me than Grandfather!

In any case, I'm counting on you.

I could have gone to check on Terumichi by myself.

His telegram was addressed to me.

Only I knew where he was.

What were we to each other?

I don't necessarily mean you and me.

When would we arrive if we took the train?

Three hours on the Shinkansen to Osaka,

then the Kirishima express to Kagoshima, arriving tomorrow at 8:19 a.m.

The ship leaves Kagoshima at 6:00 p.m.

We'll spend the night on the ship and arrive...

Maybe I shouldn't go.

I can't endure such a long journey.

Terumichi's telegram might have been a prank.

- He's... - He's not the type to lie.

If it's true, only you and I are left.

You're sure to live to 89, like Grandfather.

Maybe even 100.

- Are you mocking me? - I'm serious.

This is a serious discussion.

Then what do you think we are to each other?

Relatives.

Is that all?

We only see each other at weddings and funerals.

I see.

Ritsuko...

would you be able to say the same to Terumichi?

Relatives...

who only see each other at weddings and funerals.

No, that's not true.

Ever since we met as children, I've loved Ritsuko.

Terumichi... if it hadn't been for you,

I might have been able to turn that feeling into reality.

Terumichi... if it hadn't been for you,

my life would have been different.

Come along, dear relative.

How can you call me that?

I have a name:

Masuo Sakurada.

The man from Manchuria.

I was born in Manchuria.

Terumichi...

you caught me.

It was just after New Year's Day, 1947.

My mother and I had been repatriated from Manchuria.

As we neared the Sakurada family home,

villagers told us my father had died a year earlier.

That day was the anniversary of his death.

Mother said to me...

"It's just the two of us now. Will you be okay, Masuo?"

I nodded.

When we started walking back the way we had come, all of you came after us.

We'd escaped the Russians, Manchurians, and Koreans...

only to return to Japan and be captured by our fellow Japanese.

People keep saying the Russian soldiers are demons,

but were they really that fearsome?

What?

You aren't too bright, are you?

I'm asking if they used you as a prostitute.

That happened to some women.

I'm asking about you.

What about the Manchurians and Koreans?

Had that happened, I wouldn't have returned alive!

Then why'd you try to run?

Well, we wanted to live without relying on you for help.

How can you say that? For the Sakurada family,

Masuo is irreplaceable.

Ah, I forgot to ask.

What happened to your younger brother?

Before we reached Dalian...

I see.

Then it couldn't be helped.

You must live for both, you and your brother.

For some reason I didn't look at my father's picture.

Looking at it would tell me nothing about why he died.

Or, to be more exact, why he committed suicide.

All I knew was that in June of 1945,

shortly before Japan's defeat,

my father returned to Tokyo from Manchuria on important business,

and that he committed suicide the following year,

just after New Year's Day, 1946.

Nobody told me anything beyond that,

and I didn't ask.

But don't think I was being particularly obstinate.

Back then, people didn't really want to discuss

the war, or soldiers, or the war dead.

Mother, I can bathe myself.

Your mother's sleeping.

I'll help you instead.

I'm your aunt. Do you remember me?

I can bathe myself.

Perhaps you've forgotten me. It's been seven or eight years.

I remember you. You're Aunt Setsuko.

You know, I knew your father from when he was your age.

Sit down now, or you'll catch cold.

- I'm embarrassed. - Why?

Because I'm so grimy.

So? We're family.

- What's so funny? - I splashed myself too.

She's my own mother, but she never bathes me.

- Boy from Manchuria! - Who are you?

You're a street urchin. My dad's a war criminal.

Don't spy on people!

"War criminal."

But Terumichi, to borrow your own words,

the grandfather sitting before me

belonged in Sugamo Prison along with Tojo and the others.

The "war crimes" that kid referred to were minor ones,

and his father was still being held in China.

He was my father's younger brother by a different mother.

My father has yet another half brother.

He makes me sick,

the way he slaps Aunt Setsuko's knee during pauses in his lectures.

Later, people told me

he was imitating Kyuichi Tokuda, head of the Communist Party.

You told me he bravely stuck to his principles during the war.

But that's odd, because this communist uncle

seemed like a war criminal to me.

And he wasn't the only one.

My father in photographs, the people drinking sake,

all the grown men - they all looked like war criminals to me.

Masuo, how is your mother?

She's been very weak for a month or two now.

A former nurse shouldn't spend that long resting in bed.

She's my daughter-in-law.

We'll put her to work tomorrow.

But in her condition...

People who've been starving shouldn't eat too much too quickly.

I've heard that starving children in India,

who devour a lot of food in one go,

develop severe diarrhea and soon die.

That goes for you too, Masuo.

Mother, you always eat so little. Hence your excellent health.

Masuo, you should stay here in the country with Grandmother.

In Tokyo there's nothing but the scraps the Americans use to fatten their pigs.

- Yes. - Idiots!

I'm taking Masuo to Tokyo.

I'll raise him in his father's place.

But Father, isn't Masuo actually your...

- My what? - Isn't he your own son?

- What are you taking about? - But...

- But what? - Isn't it possible?

You've recognized me and Susumu, though we were born to mistresses.

No question about Mamoru.

Terumichi's almost surely your son, while Ritsuko's father is uncertain.

And finally, there's seven-year-old Tadashi.

Do I look like such a big shot even to a communist?

Is your communism about giving communal birth?

A former nurse who sleeps for two months? Really, now!

Russia, Russia.

Russia's communist, just like you.

Masuo, did the Russian soldiers wear red uniforms?

No.

Everyone seems to think the Russian soldiers

did something sordid to Kiku.

In other words, that the Russian soldiers are like Grandfather.

Lies! You're all demagogues!

The Russian soldiers were friendly. Weren't they, Masuo?

Masuo, say something.

They... gave me black bread.

In Russian it's called... what was it?

Isn'tit za... za... zakuska?

And you took it?

Yes.

Masuo, did they give your mother anything?

I don't know.

Were you separated from your mother?

In the internment camp, for example.

I see.

Just as I thought.

In front of the child...

Masuo.

Your clothes fit me perfectly.