Review #74: 'The Sun' (2005)

Similar to Oliver Hischbiegel's Downfall (2004), The Sun follows Emperor Hirohito during the final days of World War II. While American soldiers invade the land after dropping the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Emperor remains holed up in the bunker of his palace, existing in a kind of daze. He wanders the hallways, followed by his servants who hang on his every word and action, awaiting his instructions. He quietly ponders the situation and attempts to negotiate a peace treaty with his advisors, wondering what effect it will have on his legacy. General Douglas MacArthur calls for him to dine with him, and the two almost share a strange bond while discussing politics, determining the Emperor's fate and smoking cigars.

Director Aleksandr Sokurov, who was responsible for the hypnotic Russian Ark (2002) and criminally under-seen Alexandra (2007), adopts a similar style to that of the former. The digital image glides along the steel corridors of the bunker, following Hirohito's every move. The darkness and the grain of the image allowing a more grounded feel to the proceedings. This way, it feels less like a period piece based on real events, and places you more in the time. It's a similar approach to that taken by Michael Mann in the over-rated Public Enemies (2009). Though Michael Mann's almost emotionless biography of John Dillinger used it in a desperate attempt to look cool and edgy (something that Mann seems to do with every new film he does - surprising given the effortless cool of the likes of Heat (1995) and Manhunter (1986) - anyway...), here Sokurov adopts the style to create a very real atmosphere.

The almost constant soundtrack, too, adds to the atmosphere of the piece. As the Emperor slowly paces the corridors, quietly discusses matter with his board and quietly reflects on his actions, the music and camerawork gave me the overall impression of doom. Not that the film is heading that way, I felt that it more represented the internal struggle of the Emperor, where his fate is seemingly out of his hands, and his country could be facing ruin. Two of the largest cities in  the country have been obliterated by the U.S., who are now crossing their borders and invading. Being the Emperor, he is of the belief that he is a God. Is this the legacy of a God? What will his people remember him for?

I can't end the review without mentioning the computer generated sequence that breaks up the film. Dazed and delirious after being taken ill, the Emperor sits open mouthed at the edge of his bed, imagining scores of giant flying fish soaring through the air. The country below them lies in smoky ruin, and the fish begin to drop more bombs, the sounds of the fish's 'engines' groaning terribly. The fish by the way, just to put it into context, represent Hirohito's love for marine biology, which he persists in researching even as the Americans invade. It's a brave, interesting move in the film. It initially jarred with the quiet, controlled drama that unfolds before, but it becomes an interesting and unnerving experimental set-piece.

A cold, tightly-directed biography that cares less about the politics of the time, and more with the humanistic aspect of a powerful ruler in a troubled time, with a mesmerising lead performance by Issei Ogata.


Directed by: Aleksandr Sokurov
Starring: Issei Ogata, Robert Dawson, Kaori Momoi
Country: Russia/Italy/Switzerland/France

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie