Figure: Screenshot from the film, retrieved from Ghibli’s site.
The 2021 Tokyo Olympics having just ended reminds me of a scene in «From Up on Poppy Hill», where in the background there is a poster of the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. Last September when Ghibli studio released numerous screenshots from their films, this scene was one of them. By then Japan had just postponed the Olympics, and was still unsure whether it should be cancelled; hence, the scene was added sarcastic subtitles by dissenters, along the lines of “Break a leg in the 2021 Tokyo Olympics!” But at least it informed me of the fact that Tokyo had held the Olympics once, and urged me to watch «From Up on Poppy Hill», a lesser known Ghibli opus, on Netflix. It turns out the reference to the 1964 Olympics is strangely relevant, both in the film and in reality.
Umi Matsuzaki, a high school student, works at her family’s own boarding house by the Port of Yokohama. Her father Yuichiro died in the Korean War, but every morning, as a personal ritual, she raises a signal flag used to pray for a safe voyage.
The flag draws the attention of Shun Kazama, another high school student nearby, and he writes a poem in the school newspaper. Umi and Shun are then acquainted, and their mutual affection grows.
However, when Umi shows Shun a photo, which Yuichiro is in, Shun recalls he has seen a duplicate photo from his adoptive father, Akio. Shun thinks that he and Umi are siblings, and he refrains from meeting her. Umi confronts Shun for the matter, and on believing that they are siblings, she says she will still love him.
Actually, the situation is more convoluted. Shun’s mother died in giving birth, and Shun’s father was also killed in the World War. Shun was therefore given to Yuichiro; since Yuichiro was unable to raise him either, he was in turn given to Akio. Captain Yoshio, who is in the old photo too and knows Yuichiro, meets Umi and Shun; he tells them of the history, and confirms that they aren’t siblings.
There is another subordinate plot, that an antique building Latin Quarter, used by student clubs, is to be demolished. Shun and Umi, unwilling to see the building torn down, take a train to Tokyo to see a chair of the school; it is here the screenshot takes place. After the building is remodelled by volunteering students, the chair decides not to demolish Latin Quarter.
With both suspensions resolved, one would think a happy ending follows; but Umi and Shun only stare stiffly at the reflection of twilight on the surface of water, not showing whether they will continue their relationship. Another day begins, and Umi again raises the flag, as if waiting for her father who is never coming back. A melancholy theme song is played for the credit roll, and only emptiness remains.
The message of the film is, to me, whether sinners could find happiness; whether modern thinking Shun advocates in the club is compatible with the historic building, and whether Umi and Shun from the younger generation may take delight in their romance, in the aftermath of the war declared by the older. Japan lost the world war, and wanted to prove its reform in the 1964 Olympic; it underwent the financial crisis, and sought to show its power in the 2021 Olympic. This is what Japan, a rather odd country, has been dealing with for decades. It is a place where politicians are seen wearing western suits in the arena, but sing the anthem Kimigayo in praise of their emperor in the opening ceremony; it is a land of conservatism and confucianism, but also where Yoshiro Mori, President of the Olympics-organizing committee, was pressured to resign due to his remark that he was reluctant to increase the female board members.
The heart of the question is if human beings are capable of forgiving or not. Japan and Germany killed people, as did Kuomintang. Nowadays (I believe) very few, if at all, would deem that acceptable, and it must be distressing for their descendants to hear the world repeatedly reprimand the horrible deed by the deceased generation. But what repentance is true? What forgiveness is real? If repentance can buy forgiveness, why not sin? And if it doesn’t, what use is it?
We know we have sinned, and still we sin; we ask to be forgiven, yet we don’t forgive. Human beings are petty, intolerant, selfish, and impulsive, and all we have is hope. Hope is a flag on the hill, which we expect some sailor to see, but fails to be seen, and we wait and wait, until the sun sets, until we raise it the next day, waiting for all our live to be understood, to be loved, for the end of war, for the end of pandemic, even if our hair has been gray, our teeth shaking, and if in our last breath nobody is coming, which we never will realize.
❧ August 15, 2021