“Compassion is the basis of morality.” ― Arthur Schopenhauer, Philosopher
In contrast to my previous post on the growing amorality enveloping society and that of my prolonged discourse — for which I ask forgiveness — here are some films I’d like to recommend that offset the tide. These cinematic pieces remind us of the power that kindness, truth, and goodness holds, and that art — when thoughtfully and morally attended to — can be used to inspire us all towards greater clarity, compassion and empathy.
Sweet Bean (Directed by Naomi Kawase)
In the hands of another director I suspect Sweet Bean might have come across as excessively sentimental. But here, director Naomi Kawase constructs a simple tale with such thoughtfulness and care that its characters and situation feel not only believable but genuine. Centralizing on only three characters, Sweet Bean follows the personal trials of a vendor named Sentaro (Masatoshi Nagase) who struggles running his little dessert shop which makes dorayaki, a sweet bean paste-filled pancake popular in Japan. His most regular customer is a lonely, seemingly disconnected young high school girl (Kyara Uchida) who considers dropping out and leaving home. Sentaro gives her the “rejects” that don’t sell. But Sentaro’s own life is also lonely and disconnected. And although we’re not told the details, we get the sense he’s doing this job only because he has to, for financial reasons and also as a repayment for a debt that goes beyond money. But one day, his life changes when an elderly woman named Toke (Kirin Kiki) comes applying for a job. But despite offering her services for incredibly low pay, Sentaro kindly turns her down seeing that she’s old and appears slightly disabled. Still, she leaves him a gift in gratitude for his consideration — her own homemade sweet bean paste that tastes so amazing that it changes his mind. Working together they make new Dorayakis that become a huge hit with the public but soon trouble comes. And in that trouble we reveal that beneath the veneer of politeness, people of this little town carry as much prejudice and pettiness as anywhere else. In the challenges that face the characters, both physically and psychologically, we begin to learn the meaning of trust, kindness and the devotion to one’s passion. I do not wish too give much away in what is a very simple story but I must say that the actors in Sweet Bean bring such sincere emotion to the scenes that it shakes you. When watching films, I’m rarely reminded of the power of attentiveness being able to change lives like it does in this one. Here, there is such a guileless display of love; love of craft, love of one another, love of life.
Babe (Directed by Chris Noonan)
Babe is magnificent. Both surprisingly dark and incredibly uplifting, it’s a triumph of goodness and a morality tale superior to any other children’s film ever made (perhaps only the original 1940 Pinocchio comes close). The film’s central character and hero is a pig named Babe, a little runt picked from a litter of hogs to serve as a lottery “Ham” prize at the local country fair. Yet out of that comes the beginning of a journey, one of a humble creature destined for greatness. Babe is so pure, so innocent that he defies the common selfishness and violence that permeates society including animal farm life; the little pig truly has a heart of gold. But how do you make a character so good and honest interesting enough to follow or believe in? Well, in the hands of producer/creator George Miller and director Chris Noonan, we have a film so magical and surprising, it’s beautiful to witness. The sets, compositions and sly storytelling give the film a children’s book feel, unraveling one small chapter of its mystery at a time. And despite clever humour and playful sequences Babe carries with it an ominous tone, where real danger or death lurks at almost every turn, for such is the life of a little pig on a farm. Using animatronics, trained animals and limited CG mouth/facial manipulations, the creators have managed to breathe great life and soul into these seemingly simple barnyard animals who take turns being critics, friends, mothers and guardians. With an excellent voice cast and supported by an Oscar-nominated performance by the ageless James Cromwell as farmer Hoggett, we have just the right amount of realism and fantasy that has you smiling and rooting for this wonderful and courageous sheep-pig.
Dances with Wolves (Directed by Kevin Costner)
There has never been a film like Dances with Wolves and there likely never will be again. Directed with nuance and respect, Costner’s film pays beautiful homage to the land and original indigenous peoples of North America. Shot on location in South Dakota along the great plains of the continent, Dances with Wolves has an epic feel to it and a timelessness that makes one ponder both our history and our future. The story begins with John Dunbar, a Civil War soldier wounded and about to have his leg amputated, making a desperate act to end his life during a standoff between two war parties. Not only does his suicide act not get him killed but results in him being decorated and his leg saved. He requests as his reward for his perceived heroics the opportunity to serve in the great open plains — in Indian country — “before it’s gone” as Dunbar remarks. As such, his real story begins. After arriving in the abandoned military outpost, he befriends a band of Lakota Indians, discovering firsthand that the natives are nothing like what he has been told. Here, he learns their way of life and slowly begins to find himself, not only as a soldier but as a man. He adopts a new name — Dances with Wolves — given to him by the natives due to his unique interactions with a lone wolf who visits him periodically at his post. Of course, conflict arrives just as he begins to find peace as Dunbar’s honour gets tested in battle with enemies both foreign and familiar, including his own people, the American soldiers. Dances with Wolves is a triumph of the human spirit; it is an exploration of self-discovery, of nature and our place in it. It shows the great wisdom that can come to us if we observe and listen, and when we choose to live without prejudice or expectations.
The Shawshank Redemption (Directed by Frank Dabaront)
Frank Dabaront’s trio of films The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile and The Majestic are all films that inspire self-reflection, truth, and hope. Of the three, Shawshank is the most magnificently made. Wrongfully accused of murdering his wife, banking executive Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) is sent to serve a life in prison. There, he befriends con-man and convicted murderer Ellis Redding (Morgan Freeman) and becomes part of a charming gang of convicts who share humour and tribulations together as part of life behind walls. As it turns out his wittiness and intelligence actually trap him; he becomes not only a confidant to his newfound friends, but also that of the warden, a cruel duplicitous man who uses Andy’s financial expertise to launder the river of dirty money that runs through the prison. Featuring a great screenplay, excellent directing and superb acting, it’s a film that’s so enjoyable that you don’t even realize the depth and beauty of its message — one not simply of redemption but of freedom, and not freedom restricted by any concrete walls but freedom from the prisons we make inside our heads. It’s tale is about breaking away from our conditioning which is the most difficult thing in the world to do. Both Dufresne and Redding face this dilemma and until they each act with the courage to meet that challenge they will remain imprisoned. Finding out how they face their challenges keeps us glued to the screen. If it weren’t for the terrible title, I suspect many more people would’ve seen this movie. It did so poorly that it didn’t even recover the cost of making it. Today, it’s easily regarded as one of the greatest films ever made on hope and human dignity.
Ikiru (Directed by Akira Kurosawa)
What a film Ikiru is. Some feel this is the great Japanese director’s most powerful and humane film. It’s hard to argue with that. Starring seasoned actor and Kurosawa regular Takashi Shimura, the film begins with a man’s discovery that he has terminal cancer. Having lived an existence of alarming mundaneness and limited awareness, the diagnosis compels Kanji Watanabe, an aging bureaucrat, to find some sort of meaning in the final days of his life. The problem is he doesn’t know where to begin; he doesn’t know how to have fun nor how to connect or share with other people. Neither has he made any contributions to society through craft or charity. His life has been nothing but paperwork being shuffled back and forth between desks. That is the limited achievement of his life after nearly 30 years of work. And so begins the journey of a man — near the end — to find the beginning. He has to look back and around in what seems like for the first time, an overdue examination of his entire life. Played with tremendous depth and poignancy, Shimura’s rich performance as the sorrowful Watanabe both shocks and grips you; you can’t help but feel immense empathy throughout the film, and yet at the end of it, inherit real hope and inspiration. In Japanese, Ikiru means “to live.” And here, we’re given the opportunity to discover what that really means.
To see more Favorite Films go here.