How much do you know early-20th century Japanese literature? While it’s not the focus of the film, your interest in the topic will likely way heavily on whether you enjoy your time with Yasuko, Songs of Days Past.
Fresh from a world premiere at Rotterdam International Film Festival and based on true events, the film follows the blooming love triangle between three known figures of Taisho- and early Showa-era Japan in the spheres of film and literature. Yasuko Hasegawa was a young actress in many of the Shochiku silent films of the pre-war era. Chuya Nakahara was a renowned poet active at the same time and of similar age to Yasuko, while Hideo Kobayashi, only a few years older, was an early literary critic who helped to established interest in analysis and critique in the blossoming arts.
In 1924 when Nakahara was just 17, he met the then-amateur 20-year-old Hasegawa by bursting into her house to get out of the rain. A fascination blooms in Hasegawa for the self-confident and brash young boy far less mature than the otherwise-miniscule 3-year age gap would suggest, and staying the night from the rain soon developed into the two living together. It would be easy to assume an obvious romantic interest in letting the boy stay, yet the immaturity of Nakahara and the inner complexity driven by trauma makes it feel more like intrigue and complicates their relationship
Something only complicated when Kobayashi, both supporter of Nakahara’s talent and exasperated friend, enters the frame. Not only more mature, he appears interested in something more with Hasegawa at the same time as Chuya loses himself in the anarchic, abstract works of French poet Arthur Rimbaud, of which the two’s works today are often compared.
Director Kichitaro Negishi is no stranger to the sexual impulses you could imagine would arise in the tension of three young people in love - as with any director who made their break in the struggling 1970s he got his start in one of the only genres making money for domestic cinema during this era, making Roman Porno and pink cinema with films like Wet Weekend. This movie, however, chooses not to delve deep into their lurid sexual desires, instead offering something emotionally intense rather than physical as it explores their uneasy bond in the years that follow.
And for all that Yasuko is perhaps the least-known of the three lead characters in this love triangle, she is certainly the film’s focus as the two vie for her interest and exhibit jealousy and distaste on her behalf. Uneasy interior shots of the three characters place her often are unbalanced around her presence as the two vie for her affections, even if Chuya lacks the maturity and seriousness for the relationship that the older mind of Nakahara delivers until jealousy causes him to lash out.
Indeed, much of the film is visually framed around a character’s absence or diminished influence, saying more than words ever could about their true feelings for one another. For all Yasuko cares more for the stern self-seriousness of Nakahara, she’s happiest when Chuya takes her rollerskating through the shrines of Kyoto or engaging in the childishness of fairgrounds to stave off the hereditary madness and trauma of her youth. Similarly to the carefree way these scenes are shot, the anger and tantrum of Chuya being left out by their seriousness as she moves on to live with Nakahara is represented by his shrunken importance as he helps in the move more than any vocal protestation.
Amidst it all, it’s the art these people create that is both absent and the focus of this film and their uneasy relationships. We don’t ever see the prolific poetry feats of Chuya during his life shown in the film despite him writing over 350 works in his 30-year life, but we do see his love for Rimbaud and the way that the words and the emotions they inspire drive him forwards more than reality itself. Nakahara, meanwhile, can never truly separate the life of a critic from his love, to the point that Hasegawa can’t help but cry out and ask, “Am I just another story for you?”
Art is driving their love, as it drives the lives of all creatives.
It’s a complex web of emotions that enthralls, even if it can often feel like it’s unwilling to probe deeply enough that we can draw further meaning from their relationship by the time it all falls apart. The film plays against the backdrop of Westernization and imperial expansionism that certainly have their mark on events if never explicitly the focus. Part of what makes Chuya so fascinating is his contradictory existence as someone both fascinated by French poets but dressing and acting outside of the norms of both East and West. Nakahara is enveloped by his critique, but we never see enough of how this evolves with his love and friendships ever-changing.
Yet for as much as we emphasize Westernization in the characters, see it in the world and the sets of Shochiku, pay lip-service to it and emphasize it in the setting, we never dive deeper. We delve into some of the psychologicals of their relationships, sold to the audience superbly by the lead trio. Suzu Hirose has evolved long since her days as a teenager playing the lead role in Kore-eda’s Our Little Sister, but this stands out even amidst a strong recent array of performances as she captures a women torn by her past and present and the stresses of love and acting. Taisei Kido as Nakahara is often insufferable, but that feels like the point, while Masaki Okada brings a more refined air to their frantic affair.
We’re lacking that final step to unlock this story to its full potential. There are parallels to the lives of people living in this era of Japanese history to today, and the film seems aware of this. These are characters influenced and evolving directly from the landscape strong period-setting production emphasizes, but we’re never allowed to fully explore it until it’s all too later. For Chuya, who is known as much for his talent as he is for his tragic early death from tuberculosis at just 30 years old, quite literally so.
Decades of experience from Negishi for exploring sensual romance have bore fruit in the emotional tensions that leave this film an enthralling viewing experience for anyone who gives it a chance. Yet without knowledge of these artists before stepping into the movie, it can feel like something’s missing that makes these characters whole and gives meaning to their romance. Stellar acting and set design can only take you so far when it’s lacking that additional context and exploration.
It’s hard to be fully critical when this alone will make the film worth your time. But unless you’re versed in Taisho-period Japanese literary figures, it can feel like something’s missing that holds this back from greatness.
