Hiroshi Shimizu’s Ornamental Hairpin (‘Kanzashi’, 1941)
along with the director’s other two talkies – Mr. Thank You (‘Arigato-san’,
1936) & The Masseurs and a Woman (‘Anma to onna’, 1938) – were conceived as
group portraits set among a distinct backdrop that temporarily brings
together vacationers or travelers. While Mr. Thank You unfolds inside a small,
rickety bus as a cross section of rural Japanese people travel through
picturesque mountain roads, The Masseurs and a Woman & Ornamental Hairpin
is set in the backdrop of a remote, hill-side hot spring resort.
The unique characters in
the three films represent a microcosm of Japanese society; in an era when the
nation slowly recovered from economic depression, only to be beset by the total mobilization for war. The singularity of Shimizu’s men and women are sharply delineated
by the ‘Senses of Cinema’ article (Hiroshi Shimizu: A Hero of his Time’) by
Alexander Jacoby: “His
characters are almost always those who are alienated from the mainstream of
society, whether by personal situation (poverty, family breakdown), profession
(his men are often artists; his women, hostesses or prostitutes), or geography
(most of his films are set in outlying areas of Japan, particularly the
mountainous and inaccessible Izu Peninsula).”
Based on a story by Masuji Ibuse, Ornamental Hairpin opens
with the shot of group of geishas walking through mountain road flanked on both
sides by humongous trees. Among the women in the group, Emi (Kinuyo Tanaka) and
her friend Okiku (Hiroko Kawasaki) are jubilant about their brief visit from
Tokyo. The geishas’ arrival engulfs the inn with festive mood, the women
booking all the masseurs available. The noisy gathering, however, irks the
grumpy professor Katae (Tatsuo Saito) whose vociferous complaints go unheard.
Other guests at the inn include: an old man and his two lively grandsons, Jiro
and Taro; the meek Mr. Hiroyasu (Shinichi Himori) and his wife (Hideko Mimura);
and Nanamura (Chushu Ryu) a soldier on leave. The geishas depart the inn after
few days, but Emi leaves behind her ornamental hairpin in the hotspring which
injures Nanamura’s foot rather badly. Nanamura isn’t bothered by his injury and
finds the whole thing poetic: just like a poem pierces the soul, this 'poem' has
pierced a sole.
The professor initially frowns at the soldier’s poetic
inclinations. But he starts to speculate on the (and other guests too) beauty
of the haripin owner, further adding to Nanamura’s romantic take on the
accident. Meanwhile, Emi sends a letter
to the resort owner offering to pay for the return postage if anyone finds the hairpin. And when she hears about Nanamura’s
predicament, Emi arrives in person to apologize. Of course, Emi is young and
beautiful, and a quite affection grows between her and Nanamura.
Rejecting her wealth
and materials of her former life in Tokyo, Emi stays in the inn and watches him
gradually rehabilitate. The two mischievous boys (Jiro and Taro) accompany Emi
and Nanamura, shouting cheerful words as the wounded soldier tries to walk
without the help of crutch. Nevertheless, Ornamental Hairpin isn’t a
straightforward love story. The 'love' is rather suggested through meaningful yet quiet glances
and represented through the walk that first take place between trees and later
over a rickety bridge, and mesmerizing hillside stairs.
The narrative is mostly episodic in structure, each hinting
at how the tranquil atmosphere shelters this group of disparate people from the
hard realities of outside world. Shimizu subtly hints at the guests’ class status - they all are sharing rooms on cheap rates and hence the refrain from commenting on
the sameness of served rationed food - and Emi’s troubled past. The
professor’s pompous nature comes down a notch as he socializes with others and
assumes the role of the head of this make-shift family. The community of inn
guests, of course, disintegrates when the holidays reach its end. The film ends
on a melancholic note with kimono-clad Emi repeating the walks - among the trees, in the bridge
and hillside stairs - without her would-be lover, and in that moment we can also discern
the misery and uncertainties the wartime affairs is going to bring upon all the
characters we had just traveled with.
Like most of Shimizu’s works, Ornamental Hairpin first
appears to be a conventional gentle comedy, but slowly reveals its deeper
layers as the film-maker manages to evoke nuanced, unspoken emotions of love and
friendship. Often compared with the works of French master Jean Renoir,
Shimizu’s films too remains as a mixture of charming simplicity and emotional
complexity. The most striking aspect of Shimizu’s direction is his penchant for
tracking shots that not only follows characters, but also cuts diagonally across
to give us a feeling of the landspace and spaces. Some of the director’s
formally beautiful shots withhold great emotional power.
For instance, the
scene Nanamura climbs up the hillside stairs leading up to a forest temple. His
ascent presages the end of the transition period (Emi turns away in tears),
whereas the calm and safety of the moment remains frozen in those frames. While
Mr. Thank You’s narrative arc was infused with notes of hope and redemption,
Shimizu in Ornamental Hairpin in order to reflect the uncertainty and hardships
of the times (wartime Japan) rightly leaves the tender connection between Emi and
Nanamura unresolved.
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