The Burmese Harp (1956)

The hymn that haunts us

Many cultural activities took place in the city on the night of October 9. The opening night of Cine Europa 4 at Shangri La Plaze was tempting, but a passion for movies led me to endure the brief, heavy downpour of rain and the traffic just to see The Burmese Harp at the UP Film Center. The event was part of the center's 25th anniversary celebration.

The Japanese film not only is historically significant, but also timely in light of what's happening in the Middle East right now. On the surface, the movie is about a Japanese platoon in Burma during the final days of World War II. As everyone knows, Japan lost the war and, in this case, the member of the unit become prisoners of war of Great Britain.

A private named Mizushima is assigned the difficult task of convincing another Japanese unit to surrender. He falls, which results in heavy firing from both sides, and a heavy casualty of Japanese soldiers. Mizushima's comrades think that he perishes during the fight, but he survives and a Buddhist monk helps him recover. It is through Buddhism that Mizushima finds a way to escape from the hard, brutal life that distinctively marks World War II.

This Kon Ichikawa film earned a Best Foreign Language Film Oscar nomination in 1956, but it lost to Federico Fellini's La Strada. Both look deceptively simple at first glance, but a closer examination reveals many scenes in both pictures filled with symbolisms.

The dual meanings and ambiguity in Harp make it very interesting to watch. Let me cite two cases.

First, Mizushima alone in his unit plays the harp, and it's the only way to keep his comrades' spirits up. The music also serves as a signal during combat and this is best illustrated during an early scene when they sense that they're being surrounded by British forces. The entire Japanese unit sings and dances in an attempt to foil off enemy attack, while Mizushima's strumming enhances their chances of avoiding bloodshed on their side. After this, it's the British side's turn to sing, but they do it while slowly climbing up a low hill towards the small wooden hut where the Japanese are hiding.

It's when Mizushima perform a stirring tune that the British soldiers stop, but both sides are singing the hymn that Mizushima's harp is playing. The scene is both touching and strange because despite its pacifist undertones, it's also easy to perceive that the vocal unison can be a test of which side will concede first. The guessing doesn't take long because Mizushima's unit is soon captured.

Secondly, Mizushima's retreat to Buddhism may be taken as an escape from the horrors of war. On the other hand, can it also mean Mizushima' shame in facing his superiors after failing in his task? Can it also symbolize a Japanese soldier's humiliation in losing the war that he's unable to face his loved ones and his countrymen? The soldier-cum-priest is also unable to look at the unburied corpses of Japanese soldiers that he decides to make it his lifelong mission to travel around the Burmese landscape in search of dead Japanese soldiers and give them a decent, proper burial.

In a way, Mizushima is like the wandering Jew who is cursed to pay for the mistakes his comrades has done to many innocent lives. His mission can be noble, conscience-piercing and self-punishing, but can this what the Japanese people feel regarding their country's role during World War II? We have seen comfort women coming out after many years to demand apology and justice for the harm that was done to them. Perhaps two atomic bombings and the consequent loss of lives aren't enough to appease their fury, but it's worth wondering if their bitterness will ease when they see scenes like Mizushima constantly avoiding his comrades although he clearly longs to be back in their company.

The message is that there's nothing to gain from a war. The music plays a large part in conveying this. It may not be The Sound of Music, but it expresses an affirmation to live, to connect with other people or simply to remember those who have passed away during that horrible era. It is sufficient to move anyone to tears. The harp resonates longer and louder, a reminder that it takes many conflicts to make mankind wiser.

The final scene where Mizushima continues to remove bloodstain off the Burmese soil is haunting. He carries a heavy burden not only for himself, but for his comrades as well. It hits the viewer with this question: Can we afford and endure another war?

(First published in Daily Tribune on October 20, 2001)