I got this movie out a week after the death of Ichikawa Kon - I suppose if there is one way to mark the passing of a great director, its to raise a glass of wine to him while watching one of his greatest movies. Ichikawa had one of the finest careers in Japanese film, but as he never had a distinctive style or theme he often seems to be overlooked compared to his near contemporaries such as Ozu and Kurosawa (he was a little younger than them, but not by much). He is one of those directors who defies auteur theories - its likely that his wife (who wrote the screenplay for this and many other of his movies) was as much responsible for the quality of the movies as he was. But at his best, he was as good as any Japanese film maker at the time. In particular, he had great technical skills, allowing him to tell complex stories in an accessible manner. But in terms of theme, this movie could hardly be simpler - war is hell. No really, its seriously hell.

Fire on the Plain doesn't follow the normal war genre rules. There is no real beginning - we start as the wretched Tamura, who is a regular private (although it is implied he is more thoughtful and educated than most of the others - at one stage it is shown he understands English, but he clams up when the others ask him how he knows it) is ordered to hospital, as his unit is already in an appalling state. The soldiers are defeated and starving to death. They are no longer an army, just a rag bag group of refugees - hunted by the locals, and pretty much ignored by the Americans, who have bigger fish to fry. Hunger and despair is driving the soldiers to the edge and beyond of madness.

In typical Ichikawa style, its not all just grim - its oddly funny in parts (a very black humour of course).

The high points of this movie to me are the outstanding performances from the leads and the vivid photography. The characters, in all their humanity, but also their complete loss of humanity, are all too believable. This is that rare film - one which will refuse to erase itself from your head, even if you want to forget it.

When we think of the John Wayne type of World War II film, we think of a group of autonomous soldiers, driven to achieve their missions. They lose men along the way; the ways of battle take their toll. But they are usually clean, well fed, and healthy. I know from watching documentaries about this war that both American and enemy soldiers did not always have this luxury. Sometimes the cost of war was infection, starvation, and injury. There wasn't always a clean, decisive end to these maladies. This is a film which is from the Japanese perspective. The army is already in disarray, starving, full of disease, but still forced to continue its mission in Leyte. They have been defeated, but their adversaries don't know that and continue to shell them and attack them from superior positions. These soldiers are, once again, pawns of a government, lustful for power, making them expendable. This is the film equivalent of a man hanging on a cliff, hoping for one more hour of life. Around him are similar people who have turned to pillaging, killing their comrades, and, yes, even cannibalism. They are stick men, barely casting shadows in the sewage they inhabit. They share salt or kill for it. This is a hard film to watch, but anyone who does should be aware of the costs of war. Brilliantly filmed and produced.

Kon Ichikawa had lived through world war two, and saw what its effects it had on his people in Japan. But so did novelist Shohei Ooka, whose book was the inspiration for Ichikawa's film, Fires on the Plain. It's a film about the men in this war, or perhaps more universally in wars in general, who lose their humanity. The soldiers trudging along through these fields and jungles of the Philippenes in this story are almost completely without hope, if not already just that. It makes Stone's Platoon look like a picnic: at least they had certain things, like food, after all.

They have little to no reserves or supplies or ammunition, no back-up, no sense of anything going their way in this combat that they've been thrust into. They can't even get some proper hospital care, unless if they can no longer walk at all or have lost limbs (for example, say, if you have TB, you're on your way). But its really through the prism of one soldier, a private Tamura, that we get a full sense of the futility of war, both in its bleak scenes of nothingness and boredom and decay, and those flashes of intense and brutal violence.

In the film Tamura just wants to get some medical care. This is right at the start, and his told by his superior officer- already he is with eyes that stare off and an expression that has been drained by years of battle- that he will die if he doesn't find a hospital. He doesn't, really, but does end up in with some soldiers: at first with a platoon that seems to sort of have their act together, but is really led on by a power-hungry brute who just wants Tamura's stash of salt, and then later with two other stray soldiers who are part of a group that had previously been ambushed while crossing a road at night.

The story isn't entirely a straight line, but it doesn't need to be. Tamura's path in Fires on the Plain is told in vignettes, little stories like when he comes upon a seemingly deserted enemy village. Two of the populous comes back to get some supplies, and Tamura sneaks up on them. It's an excruciating scene, since so far with Tamura we haven't seen him do anything outright *wrong*, but he does so in this scene, not even so much out of evil but out of fear and desperation (this is also, without spoiling it, how he gets a stash of salt). Little scenes build up so brilliantly and with devastation, like a simple task of finding a pair of walkable shoes, which there seem to be none. Or when Tamura, later in the film, discovers his teeth are becoming torn apart and falling out from lack of total hygiene. So much for food, so it goes.

It should also be mentioned that this is a hauntingly realized film from Ichikawa, shot in a stark black and white view of the fields and woods, the cinematography filling everything we see in black-blacks and white-hot white. Ichikawa also makes sure to get everything authentic from his actors, not simply emotionally but with their own emaciated look and looks of desperation right on them. It's as if Ichikawa has to have them all surviving the film as well as characters surviving out in the wild; by wild, by the way, I mean also cannibalism. The shock of this is two-fold; first is the way that a soldier says half-jokingly early on about eating other soldiers to Tamaura, who asks if it was true and only in response getting a "don't ask" word of caution, and the second with the depiction of cannibalism itself, from the crazy starving man on the hill who pulls out guts out of his lap and says with a straight face to our hero that "You can eat me when I die."

This makes thing especially more brutal when it comes to the director filming the brief 'action' scenes. These are, I would argue, more brutal than 'Private Ryan' in their depictions of violence in battle, the carnage that is completely random. A scene I would point to, and that contains just a shot that is excruciating to watch, is when from a high angle we see a group of about twenty soldiers walking slowly along, a hail of gunfire comes that kills only four or five, but it just happens so fast, and the soldiers just keep walking along at the same crawl. This isn't the only shot of horrible carnage that's shown - when needing to be bloody its there, but splashed across the screen like something completely of the macabre - but it drives the point completely.

All of the acting is staggering (Funakoshi especially, who looks to be both most at peace and most horrified by what he sees in the subtlest of looks most of the time),all of the major set-pieces provide something else to the gruesome experience, and it all amounts to the ultimate question with an anti-war film: how can, or why, do people fight in wars like these? It's almost too depressing to put into words, and so Ichikawa pushes our noses right up into the muck and filth and blood and demands for us to take it in, so maybe, some day, it will never happen again. Or one can hope this, by the end of such a bleak and great film as this.