JAPANESE FILM FESTIVAL: The pen is mightier than the sword might be the motto of three generations of a family of bookkeepers at the centre of this dramedy set in Japan from the 1830s to 1877.
Nominally samurais, each forswears the sword for an abacus. For the benefit of younger readers, an abacus is a centuries-old wooden counting tool using beads sliding on wires; think of it as a precursor to the pocket calculator.
Despite that broad sweep through history amid vast political and social changes, director Yoshimitsu Morishita’s Abacus and Sword is a minor entry in the ledger of Japanese cinema. The narrative is extremely slender and the tone is dry and restrained until the third act when the film finally develops dramatic heft as it evolves into a touching father-and-son saga.
The screenplay based on a novel by Michifumi Isoda, drawing on letters, diaries and accounting records kept by the Inoyama family, reaffirms the traditional values of thrift, hard work, honesty, sacrifice and family honour. All very worthy, but the narrative unfolds with minimal emotion or tension, interspersed with moments of gentle humour.
The chief protagonist is Naoyuki Inoyama (Masato Sakai), a mild-mannered fellow who gets a job as a bookkeeper for the Kaga Clan of Kanazawa, following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather.
Colleagues nickname him 'the mad abacus" in recognition of his devotion to and nimble expertise with the counting instrument. He learns fencing but shows zero proficiency as his father (Masahiko Nishimura) declares, 'I just hope he doesn’t break any bones."
His parents arrange for him to marry the demure Koma (Yukie Nakama), a constable’s daughter who is initially unenthusiastic about spending her life with a 'bookkeeper who’s terrible with a sword." On their wedding night he sits in the bedroom painstakingly racking up the costs of the event before consummating the marriage.
The conscientious Naoyuki discovers 200 bags of rice have been stolen during a protracted famine and reports the misdeed to his superiors, who are unwilling to investigate because they’re embroiled in a plot to sell the rice at a profit to other domains.
The couple has a son, Nariyuki, who narrates the film as an adult. Suffering severe hardship, Naoyuki imposes a harsh austerity regime at home, living frugally and selling most of their possessions to eliminate debt.
At his four-year-old son’s coming-of-age ceremony, Naoyuki places watercolour drawings of sea bream at each guest’s table setting because he can’t afford to buy fish, embarrassing his parents. And his mother is distraught when she’s forced to part with most of her kimonos.
All this is heavy going for the viewer until there are deaths in the family and Naoyuki clashes with his son. However, the last half hour feels rushed as the film skips through the declining years of feudalism and the restoration of imperial rule as Naoyuki and his son support different clans.
The performances are solid and Sakai and Nakama’s characters age convincingly thanks to deft make-up and the actors’ skills. It’s just a pity they weren’t given more compelling material.
