Something Like an Autobiography - Akira Kurosawa [48]
1928 (Showa 3: Assassination of Chang Tso-lin in Manchuria; “3–15 Incident” suppression of Communism). AK aged 18. Docks of New York, dir. Josef von Sternberg; The Dragnet, dir. Josef von Sternberg; Thérèse Raquin, dir. Jacques Feyder; Storm over Asia, dir. V. I. Pudovkin; The Wedding March, dir. Erich von Stroheim; The Little Match Girl, dir. Jean Renoir; Verdun, Visions d’histoire, dir. Léon Poirier; The Fall of the House of Usher, dir. Jean Epstein; La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc, dir. Carl Dreyer; The Seashell and the Clergyman, dir. Germaine Dulac; Shinpan Ooka Seidan, dir. Ito Daisuke; Roningai, dir. Makino Masahiro.
1929 (Showa 4: “4–16 Incident” suppression of Communism; zeppelin comes to Japan; gold embargo; Tokyo streetcar wars; worldwide Depression begins). AK aged 19. The Blue Angel, dir. Josef von Sternberg; Asphalt, dir. Joe May; Un Chien andalon, dir. Luis Buñuel; Les Mystères du Château du Dé, dir. Man Ray; Rien que les heures, dir. Alberto Cavalcanti; Kubi no za, dir. Makino Masahiro; Kaijin, dir. Murata Minoru.
Military Service
IN 1930 I turned twenty years old and I received a notice to appear for my Army physical prior to conscription. The physical was to be administered at the primary school in Ushigome.
I stood at attention before the officer, who said to me, “Are you the son of Kurosawa Yutaka, who graduated from the Toyama Academy and taught school as an Army officer?” “Yes, sir,” I replied. “Is your father well?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” “I was a student of your father’s. Please give him my regards.” “Yes, sir.” “What do you want to do?” the officer asked me. “I’m a painter, sir,” I replied. (I did not say “proletarian artist.”) “I see,” said the officer. “There are other ways to serve the country besides military service. Go to it.” “Yes, sir,” I replied. “But you seem to be very weak,” the officer continued. “And your posture is bad. You should do body-building exercises, too. This kind of exercise will stretch your back and correct that poor posture.” He stood up and proceeded to demonstrate a whole series of exercises for me. Apparently I still looked like a weakling at that age. Well, maybe the officer had been sitting at his desk too long and needed to stretch.
At the end of my conscription physical I was called before a warrant officer who sat at a desk piled high with forms. This man studied me with a fierce glower and said, “You have nothing to do with military service.” So it was in fact. I was not even called up until the eve of Japan’s defeat in the Pacific War. This occurred after the city of Tokyo had already been turned into a burned-out wasteland by the American air raids, and after I had become a film director. Since it represents my only immediate contact with military service, I might as well describe it here.
At that point most of the people who were being drafted were either physically disabled or had suffered nervous breakdowns. We were all supposed to have our “service bags” (containing the essentials for going into military service) with us for the roll call. There was an inspection of these service bags, and as the inspecting officer looked at mine, he said, “This man’s got everything.” This was to be expected, because my bag had been assembled by my assistant director, who had already done his military service. I stood there at attention pondering this truth, and the inspecting officer whispered to me, “Salute! Salute!” I hastily pulled myself together and saluted him. He returned the salute and passed on to the next man in line. I was distressed that he would praise the good order of my service bag and then scold me in the next breath. But as I was thinking this, I heard him bellowing, “What’s happened to your service bag?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the inspector glaring at the man standing next to me. The