THE SUN
Directed by Alexander Sokurov
Produced by Igor Kalenov, Sigle & Marco Muller
Written by Yury Arabov
Released by Lorber Films
Russian with English subtitles
Russia/Italy/France/Switzerland 110 min. Not Rated
With Issey Ogata, Robert Dawson, Kaori Momoi, Shiro Sano & Shinmei Tsuji 
 

Russian director Alexander Sokurov has thoroughly mastered the art of disquiet. The Sun, like so many of his other languorous masterpieces (Russian Ark, The Stone) unfolds in a parallel dimension of hushed voices, dusty colors, and human behavior so odd and indefinable even the smallest grimace sends shivers down our spines.

Set in Japan at the cusp of its surrender in World War II, the film interprets a fascinating moment in history, portraying Emperor Hirohito (Issey Ogata) as he faces the fallout from defeat and struggles with his status as a divinity. Mostly we watch him delicately writhe through his daily life in the dark, wood-laden bunker under the imperial palace. His actions—taking breakfast, writing a letter, dressing, even walking the span of a room—are documented with time-defying patience. Somehow, the quiet, slow-moving scenes hold our attention by trapping us in the Emperor’s eerie world—more dreamscape than reality. He is childish and fearful, but also proud and rashly decisive; immature and pathological, yet oddly endearing. Ogata, whose mesmerizing performance carries the plot, gives the Emperor a sci-fi quality by way of his awkward gestures and constantly fluttering lips, as if he were a fish gasping for air.

The inventiveness of the filmmaking doesn’t obscure the historical value of the film, where Hirohito, believed to be the descendent of a Japanese sun goddess, is studied as a human being. His interaction with General Douglas MacArthur, who makes the critical decision to spare him from being declared a military criminal, is fascinating. MacArthur (Robert Dawson) and all the American soldiers seem like entirely different creatures, their voices recorded as if seeping in from a different room. Next to the Americans, the emperor strikes us as even more unusual, although the Yankees do manage to rouse his sense of humor (albeit accidental) when, at one point, they tease him for his striking resemblance to Charlie Chaplain. Hirohito almost delights in their impertinence.

If there are handicaps for a Russian director filming in Japanese, they aren’t apparent. In addition to his style, Sokurov’s distance from Japan probably allowed him to create the surreal world of the film by warping and exaggerating the already ritualized mannerisms of the imperial nation. Sometimes he stretches their patient, reticent nature almost to the point of retardation and plays on their humility for sharp comedic effect.

The Sun is the third chapter of a trilogy of villains, preceded by the stories of Hitler (Moloch) and Lenin (Taurus). Watching Sokurov’s brilliant take on Hirohito, one wishes there were an endless string of misunderstood dictators to catch his attention, and ours. Yana Litovsky
November 18, 2009