It's easy to say Japan surrendered after the United States used two atomic bombs on Japanese cities. The reality was much more complicated and delicate, as can be seen in Japan's Longest Day (日本のいちばん長い日). A 1967 film from Toho, it features almost every major and minor star from the studio, including Toshiro Mifune and Chishu Ryu, playing Minister of War Korechika Anami and Prime Minister Kantaro Suzuki, respectively. Mostly consisting of scenes of men arguing in comfortable rooms, it's nonetheless constantly propelled by suspense.
Taking place over the course of 24 hours, from noon, August 14 to noon, August 15, 1945, it presents two groups of players in the drama--Japan's highest officials, debating the correct course for the country, and a few lower ranking officers who decide to take matters into their own hands. Masataka Ida (Etsushi Takahashi) and Kenji Hatanaka (Toshio Kurosawa) attempt to perpetrate what was later called the Kyujo incident, a coup.
To do this, they murder one official in one of the film's few action sequences, using swords against the old man who's too indignant at what his subordinates are doing to be afraid. The scene uses arterial spray to great dramatic effect.
Following this, the conspirators search madly for the recording of the Emperor announcing the surrender before its broadcast. They ransack the Emperor's palace, invading the rooms of all the women staying at the palace as well as high level servants. Watching them tear apart the carefully arranged furniture and decorations, I realised these guys must have been intensely unsympathetic to the average Japanese audience. If having the pro-surrender officials played by actors who typically played popular heroes didn't already make it clear which side the film's sympathy is on. This is perhaps what keeps the film from being truly great, it makes little attempt to show why the conspirators were doing what they were doing.
The exception is the Minister of War, played by Toshirio Mifune. He puts forward the argument that to surrender now, however inevitable defeat might seem, would be to dishonour the hundreds of thousands who died believing in Japan's victory. But he can't disobey his Emperor. He's not a madman, he doesn't attempt a coup against the sovereign whose sovereignty he's attempting to defend. But it's also not hard to see why he would commit seppuku after signing the surrender.
The film was directed by Kihachi Okamoto who might rely too much on close-ups but his editing keeps everything moving at a brisk pace so that the two and a half hour run time feels more like one hour.
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