Early this year I covered a David Bowie movie for this series, so I think it’s fitting to do so again now, in the
knowledge he has a Christmas flick in his filmography (and not The Snowman).
However, it’s also perhaps the least well-known movie I’ve discussed here, a
British-Japanese co-production from director Nagisa Oshima, far from a holiday
classic in any respect, not least in that the Christmas acknowledgement is
mostly incidental. But Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence is a movie that
deserves more recognition, a film that dissects themes of war, captivity,
honour, and love within a British POW camp in Japan in the later years of the
Second World War.
Based on the semi-autobiographical
books The Seed and the Sower and The Night of the New Moon by
Laurens van der Post, the film mostly retains a novel-like subjectivity in its
depiction of the individuals’ personalities and feelings (save for one extended
flashback sequence), and follows an episodic structure centred around the
character interactions and the situation. But unlike The Bridge on the River
Kwai or Papillon, the film spends little time dwelling on the
conditions of the camp and is instead more focussed on the relationship between
the prisoners and their captors. Primarily, it is the story of the relationship
between the cocky and troubled soldier, Jack Celliers, played by Bowie, and the
stern but insecure camp commandant Captain Yonoi, played by Ryuichi Sakamoto,
often told from the point of view of the Japanese-fluent prisoner Colonel
Lawrence (Tom Conti). Celliers and Yonoi both suffer a guilty conscience, the
reason for which is revealed independently by each to Lawrence, manifesting in
the former through a rebellious streak and shunning of authority and in the
latter through a mercurial temperament and need to appear a strong and
unwavering disciplinarian. Beneath that however, the inexplicit yet defining
nature of their relationship is Yonoi’s repressed sexual attraction to Celliers
and Celliers’ knowledge of it.
It’s what saves Celliers from
death by firing squad, what lands him in Yonoi’s camp, and gives him somewhat
preferential treatment compared to the other prisoners, a considered
replacement for ranking Captain Hicksley (Jack Thompson) as prisoner liaison.
Homosexuality, and particularly the Japanese wartime attitude towards
homosexuality is a major theme of the film from before we even are introduced
to Yonoi or Celliers. Early on, a Korean guard is sentenced to commit a public
seppuku for ‘buggery’ with a Dutch prisoner, and the film makes a point to
emphasize the strong feelings between said guard and prisoner. That tenderness
in the movies’ depiction of gayness pervades its’ illustration of Yonoi’s
affections for Celliers as well, even if he must mask it in the appearance of
being unforgiving and tough. Yonoi is a follower of a strict bushido code which
he practices loudly with a katana every morning as though he were a samurai.
Conveying the appearance and rigorous discipline of a classical masculinity is
the most important thing for him and yet he can’t help but be fixated on this
British captive. It’s a strikingly bold critique of toxic masculinity and
institutional homophobia for a film made in the early 1980s in Japan. But then
it does follow a pattern of Oshima challenging Japanese societal norms and
transgressing sexual politics. Here he does so additionally by impressing the
power imbalance of such a relationship where one is quite literally the captive
of the other. Yonoi is never directly abusive, though he does use his position
of authority to subjugate Celliers, using an uncovered radio to put Celliers
and Lawrence in solitary confinement pending execution after the former
embarrassed him. And yet, he doesn’t raise much fuss when a drunken Sergeant
Hara (Takeshi Kitano) releases them on Christmas Eve.
Though Celliers alludes to Yonoi’s
infatuation with him, there isn’t the same reciprocal feelings that existed
between the Korean and Dutchman; but Celliers takes advantage of that tension
in the movies’ key scene. In a show of power, Yonoi parades all the prisoners
outside the barracks and then prepares to execute Hicksley for refusing to
bring out the sick and disabled. In an act of defiance and to save Hicksley’s life,
Celliers comes between them and kisses Yonoi on each cheek. It’s a tactical
move, robbing Yonoi of some of his power by giving credence to the rumours of
his homosexual leanings that others in the camp had long suspected, but it’s
symbolically an appeal; a sign of affection instead of aggression to curb
Yonoi’s violent actions. And just for a moment, the veneer drops, Yonoi
struggles to control his repressed, conflicting emotions and it tears him
apart. The episode results in Celliers’ death, buried up to his neck in sand,
and Yonoi’s disgrace, unable to kill himself as his code of honour dictates. A
tragedy for them both.
Because though Yonoi is
unforgiving and cruel, there’s a palpable humanity that Sakamoto conveys
terrifically. You sense the underlying resentment in everything he does and
even acting in a foreign language doesn’t curb his ability to give his dialogue
immense weight, whether he’s trying to prove himself or letting out hints at
his true desires. The enigma of him and his feelings for Celliers is
entrancingly mystique, but what is clear is that if not for the war he’d be a
very different man. And we see this in his referenced final act once the war
was lost: giving a lock of Celliers’ hair to Lawrence to enshrine in his home
village.
Bowie of course does nothing to
temper his attractiveness, colouring his performance with his own enigmatic
charm and demanding your attentiveness in his every moment on screen –as is the
case for such a magnetic star. But in a way, it’s Conti who does the heavier
lifting as both the audience surrogate and a character somewhat ostracized by
his fellow prisoners for being too close and sympathetic to the Japanese.
Particularly in his discussions with Hara on cultural and conceptual
differences we see him uneasy in his role, but at the same time how he
gradually makes Hara more humane. Hara’s growth is one of the films greatest
virtues, and Kitano, who I understand was well-known for comedy roles in Japan
beforehand, is ultimately effectively empathetic and likeable. The moments that
stick with me, apart from that kiss are Hara’s drunken show of kindness to
Lawrence and Celliers (claiming to be Father Christmas in releasing them), and
the callback to it that comes at the end of his and Lawrence’s reflection in the
films’ final moments, now after the war with Hara a prisoner awaiting execution
and Lawrence his visitor. The expressed sentiment that Hara is not deserving of
his fate due to his actions being no different from any other soldier, one of
the films’ strongest critical thrusts, may not entirely hold water, though
Lawrence implicitly noting the British are treating him no differently than his
people treated theirs does. There’s a melancholy atmosphere and a genuine yet
complicated friendship conveyed however that supersedes such statements.
Lawrence’s remark about the bittersweet victory is honest. I don’t think it
exonerates Hara, or Yonoi for that matter, of the awful things they did, but we
are left with their humanity, and the knowledge that greater powers in war always
force ones’ hand.
And it’s the musical cue and
freeze frame at the end of this that really makes a difference. The music
throughout the film is extremely offbeat, viscerally strong and sets a tone,
composed by Sakamoto in the only case I know of of a movies’ star writing the
music. But what’s interesting is how it evokes Christmas for reasons I can’t
quite comprehend. Perhaps it’s the warmth and hopeful rhythm, but it does a
good job putting you subconsciously into that holiday spirit. And it reminds me
that the film in its attentiveness to love and peace, its criticism of bigotry
and war, has something of a Christmas theme despite most of it being otherwise
disconnected from the holiday. Perhaps that’s why Oshima gave it the title he
did and emphasized both times the moment it’s quoted by Hara. It is after all a
greeting of joy, made by a prison soldier to a prisoner, and it looks to find
the empathy and common humanity in that. Even after all that happened to
Celliers and Yonoi, I can’t disparage such a thought.
Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence.
Merry Christmas all.
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