The Human Condition relentlessly demands that its socialist/humanitarian hero, Kaji, ask his conscience how it can go on living during wartime—in China, where his fellow Japanese run a slave-labor mine—no, not exactly "his fellow Japanese": Kaji himself, the good man pretending he's there to ensure that "humanity" is not merely a generic term but a quality, like mercy, like compassion, that droppeth slow—but in his hands steady—or so he hopes.
But this is a lie. He doesn't want to fight, and so is exempted from military service if he agrees to oversee the mine—but of course the military follows him, their need for raw materials trumping his weak hand—and kindness is weakness here: Just look at Kaji's eyes, always wide in shock or fear, the mouth set in grim and bitter scorn—and his best efforts nothing more than black grease slathered on the war machine—more like pinball, the game simple: How close can he get his ideals to what is actually happening all around him and still keep them alive?
Not at all, it turns out. As this installment of a multi-part film ends, we know Kaji's real job is to watch himself—along with his wife, loyal to him and thus also doomed—drawn under to the muddy bottom with the other torturers, enslavers, bullies. And to his credit, his eyes stay wide open—incredulous, yes, but taking it all in, beginning to learn all about that human condition he suffers from.
The Human Condition relentlessly demands that its socialist/humanitarian hero, Kaji, ask his conscience how it can go on living during wartime—in China, where his fellow Japanese run a slave-labor mine—no, not exactly "his fellow Japanese": Kaji himself, the good man pretending he's there to ensure that "humanity" is not merely a generic term but a quality, like mercy, like compassion, that droppeth slow—but in his hands steady—or so he hopes.
But this is a lie. He doesn't want to fight, and so is exempted from military service if he agrees to oversee the mine—but of course the military follows him, their need for raw materials trumping his weak hand—and kindness is weakness here: Just look at Kaji's eyes, always wide in shock or fear, the mouth set in grim and bitter scorn—and his best efforts nothing more than black grease slathered on the war machine—more like pinball, the game simple: How close can he get his ideals to what is actually happening all around him and still keep them alive?
Not at all, it turns out. As this installment of a multi-part film ends, we know Kaji's real job is to watch himself—along with his wife, loyal to him and thus also doomed—drawn under to the muddy bottom with the other torturers, enslavers, bullies. And to his credit, his eyes stay wide open—incredulous, yes, but taking it all in, beginning to learn all about that human condition he suffers from.
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