Nietzsche


I don't know how many people noticed that the father picked up an English copy of Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra, and flashed it at the camera just before giving his speech to the daughter (before leaving Kyoto).

I usually hate philosophizing a film beyond what the director CLEARLY implicates. I hate it when I hear some idiot drone about how the film was communicating Marxist ideals against capitalism (such as happened in the message board for "Akarui mirai"). Often, people are merely reading their own bias and worldview into the movie and metaphoricalize waaaay too much. However, I make an exception for this because it is a very odd book to simply place in the film at the moment before his climatic speech to the daughter. The father speaks more here than he does anywhere else in the film and I'm sure they didn't just happen to have Nietzsche laying around the prop department and decide to use it because it was just there...

So, I couldn't help but wonder if he wasn't trying to give the dialectical tensions between the old man (society) and the daughter (becoming ubermensch). While there are obvious differences, in the way Nietzsche portrays Zarathustra's transformation and final realization, among other things, there is close enough resemblance to say that this was the directors artistic take on Zarathustra. Although, perhaps the book was merely thrown in there because it was a popular piece during that period (shortly after the war, when the movie's timeline is set), as Nietzsche's philosophy had much influence in Germany, who had a strong alliance with Japan.

P.S. I am not a fan of Nietzsche's philosophy. He clearly contradicted himself and couldn't be consistent with his own worldview and you can see these contradictions within the aformentioned book. In my opinion he is the Ayn Rand of the 19th century, loved only by pop-philosophers and gothic high school kids who have never even read a book of his.

reply

[deleted]

Honoring your word and allowing life to make you stronger are HARDLY unique to Nietzsche... and I do mean HARDLY.

reply

[deleted]

he was more poet than philosopher... the western world hasn't caught up to him yet

rather be forgotten than remembered for giving in.

reply

How do we know the father even liked the book? I read lots of books I don't even particularly care for.

Possibly Ozu was reading it at the time and had Chishu hold it for that reason. Since it flashes by so quickly I tend to think it doesn't mean anything to the story. The father was a professor and had to read lots of books. That doesn't mean he had anything in common with Nietzsche.

reply


I think your ideas about dialectical tensions fit the content of the scene in the film and strike me as valid. I'd also add that in a broader sense, Ozu so often codes all things Western (including, of course, Nietzsche as the epitome of Western thought) as signs of changing times, the bittersweet trade-off of so-called progress, as Japan's traditional culture becomes more and more a part of the globalized, industrialized, commercialized era. In this sense, the moment when the daughter must allow herself to break from her father and face a new beginning feels somewhat like an allegory for the entire nation and its new direction.


That said, I think you are being somewhat narrow and, if you don't mind me saying so, naive in your notion that a director (or author) and his/her supposed intentions are the sole arbiter of the "correct" interpretation of any work of art. Analysis is something to cultivate, not fear. If a viewer wants to apply, say, Marxist ideas to a Japanese film, the sole criterion, it seems to me, should be how consistent, resonant and cogent an argument can be formed-- how much meaning such an interpretation can create. There are, of course, weak interpretations and strong ones, but the notion that there is somehow a danger of too much analysis strikes me as pedestrian and anti-intellectual. (Not saying that's you; just speaking about those tendencies in general.)

reply

Reading Hermann Hesse helps with "getting" Nietzsche.

reply

In this sense, the moment when the daughter must allow herself to break from her father and face a new beginning feels somewhat like an allegory for the entire nation and its new direction.


I think you hit the nail on this one.

reply

Well said. Reading the original poster's comment, I couldn't help but wonder what he possibly gets out of watching cinema, given that he refuses to allow himself any shred of subjective interpretation. What's worse, he tries to rob the rest of us of that prerogative as well. And it is, to be clear, the ultimate and most fundamental prerogative that we have as film viewers. I can't imagine, without it, why anyone would bother turning on a movie at all. The filmmaker and what he "clearly implicates", as our poster said, are only half of the equation when it comes to a film's identity. The other half is the viewer's interpretation. Like any work of art, a film is only complete when it has been perceived by the viewer. As Godard said, "A film is a collaboration between author and viewer." To suggest that the author of a film (or novel, or play, etc.) has the sole right to its interpretation is not only narrow-minded, but childish and ignorant. We will all have our own interpretations of the films we watch -- some are based in logic and sound reasoning, and others, well, less so -- but there is no right or wrong interpretation for a film. The original poster suggests that people are just generalizing from their own experience and bias. Well, of course they are. That's all anyone can ever do when trying to interpret a film. The original poster naively implies that there is some indisputable, objective, definitive interpretation of a given film, but he, in attempting to find that interpretation, is doing exactly what he condemns the rest of us for doing: using his own experience and intellect to try determine what the film means. Cinema would be empty and meaningless without our endeavor to interpret what we see. That interpretation will rarely match the interpretation of other viewers or even of the author himself, but I can't think of anything more irrelevant. What matters is what we gain, as individuals, from our interpretation of the film, however "wrong" that interpretation is or is not. This is, after all, the only thing that gives cinema, or any art form, its value. Apart from the debatable value of sheer escapism, cinema's only true value lies in its ability to shape our perspectives on life, evolve our understanding of the world we live in, and expose us to visions of life other than our own. Interpreting what we see on the screen is an integral part of attaining any of those things. If that interpretation is not in keeping with the popular interpretation of the film, or even with the author's interpretation, that does not make it "wrong". If that interpretation, however different from others, has given the viewer a broadened understanding of life or anything within it, then the film has served its purpose. Cinema, as a whole, has served its purpose. The original poster's attempts to discredit that most valuable gift that cinema offers us are both sad and disturbing, but not unexpected. The narrow-mindedness and lack of general acceptance of the ideas of others is hardly a scarce phenomenon in this world. We are used to it by now. It is exactly what cinema exists to fight against. By being visually presented with another person's vision of life, we are forced to at least consider accepting it. This consideration, and especially this potential acceptance, is how we grow as human beings. And this growth, which comes from the act of interpreting someone else's vision of life, is further enhanced by discussing our interpretations with other viewers, especially when their own interpretations differ from ours. That's when the potential for growth is highest. But some people, it seems, would rather just cross out anything they don't agree with and be done with it, effectively nullifying any possibility for learning or growth.

As Billy Pilgrim would say, "So it goes."

reply

I noticed it too and think that it has a purpose. If one looks closely, one will see several references to other artists (architects, for example) in Alfred Hitchcock's films. These references aren't just subtle, hidden in composition and construction of space, but sometimes a name flashes in a train or something.

First, I must say that I don't agree with your take on that people put their own views in films by philosophizing them. The cinema must be "philosophized" because it is philosophical. However, you are right. Our own world views do affect our interpretation. But does it really matter? Isn't one point of hermeneutics that the interpreter's subjectivity affects the interpretation; and this is okay as long as it isn't forced. My point being: man can reflect his ideas to a work of art as long as it coincides with the artist's perspective. Of course, it may be vague what are the limits of coinciding with the artist's perspective. Okay, I could go on all day.

Although I have nothing special to add to this particular scene, I would like to mention that I think Nietzsche's thought is very present in Ozu's oeuvre. However, this doesn't necessarily mean that Ozu studies the German philosopher's thought carefully and tried to inflitrate it into his work. He just happens to deal with similar issues. I think a strong counterpoint of despair and hope always prevails in Ozu's work, and isn't this quite Nietzschean? I believe Nietzsche once said "we have art so that the truth wouldn't destroy us. The truth is ugly."

Think of the end of Tokyo Story where the girl asks Noriko "isn't life dissappointing?" to which she replies "yes, it is."

In conclusion, I find it intriguing that Nietzsche was Arthur Schopenhauer's student for a while. Some of you may know that Schopenhauer took a lot of inspiration for his "pessimistic" philosophy from Buddhism. Buddhism, in turn, is a big part of Japanese culture, and this brings us back to Ozu. So, no, I don't think Ozu put that book in that scene by accident.

I don't have any great views on this particular subject, I admit that only having seen the film twice. I actually found your ideas of the scene much more fascinating that this over-long post of mine. At any rate, I love the film. And, yes, I love Nietzsche. So maybe I'm just putting my personal views into art, haha. That's possible. But, in the end, isn't art, just like philosophy, a way to observe life and our very existence? Then again, discussing art equals discussing existence, so I guess it doesn't matter if we put our own views across in our essays every now and then.

reply

I noticed the Nietzsche also, although I didn't spot that it was Zarathustra. I figured it was simply another reference to the film's overarching theme of transition, specifically tradition giving way to modernity. Nietzsche of course espoused the idea of throwing off the shackles of former superstitions, and paved the way for the objectivism of the modern industrial consciousness. Late Spring seemed to me to betray a sense of anxiety (represented by Noriko's ambivalence) about the trajectory of human progress, more technologically advanced yet more isolated and self-interested.


The Films of Stanley Kubrick: www.fosk.weebly.com

reply

There’re whole lot of people who need to get the fuck over themselves on this blowhard topic.

reply

[deleted]

With the amount of time that is spent in planning, shooting, and editing any film, you can be sure that there are few accidents. No doubt the director wanted that particular book shown. The reason why is something else again.

reply