Visions of Eight


1h 45m 1973
Visions of Eight

Brief Synopsis

Eight noted directors document the Olympic games that took place at Munich in 1972. Included are segments by: Arthur Penn, who recorded the pole vaulting competition; Kon Ichikawa, who filmed the 100-meter dash featuring portions in extreme slow motion; Claude Lelouch, who documented a segment dealing with the losers of various competitions; Mai Zetterling, who directed the portion on the weightlifting competition; Michael Pfleghar who covered gymnastics and women participating in the Olympics; and John Schlesinger, who chronicled the twenty-six-mile marathon race from the point of view of one of the British competitors

Film Details

Also Known As
Olympic Visions
MPAA Rating
Genre
Documentary
Sports
Release Date
1973

Technical Specs

Duration
1h 45m

Synopsis

Eight noted directors document the Olympic games that took place at Munich in 1972. Included are segments by: Arthur Penn, who recorded the pole vaulting competition; Kon Ichikawa, who filmed the 100-meter dash featuring portions in extreme slow motion; Claude Lelouch, who documented a segment dealing with the losers of various competitions; Mai Zetterling, who directed the portion on the weightlifting competition; Michael Pfleghar who covered gymnastics and women participating in the Olympics; and John Schlesinger, who chronicled the twenty-six-mile marathon race from the point of view of one of the British competitors

Film Details

Also Known As
Olympic Visions
MPAA Rating
Genre
Documentary
Sports
Release Date
1973

Technical Specs

Duration
1h 45m

Articles

Visions of Eight (1973)


For over 100 years, the International Olympic Committee has sponsored official documentaries celebrating both the Summer and Winter Olympic Games. Most of these originate within the country hosting the games. Visions of Eight (1973) was brought to the organizing committee of the XXth Olympiad by Oscar-nominated and Emmy-winning American documentary producer and filmmaker David L. Wolper. It was Wolper's idea to present the 1972 Summer Olympic Games as a mosaic seen through the lenses of respected filmmakers from around the world for an anthology film. Like the games themselves, the directors would represent an international collaboration.

Wolper's original wish list of directors included Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini, François Truffaut, Akira Kurosawa, Luis Buñuel and Roman Polanski, all of whom initially expressed interest but ultimately declined. Ten directors from 10 different countries were finally signed to the project and the completed anthology presents, in the words of the film itself, "the separate visions of eight singular film artists." In order of presentation, the contributing filmmakers are Yuriy Ozerov from the Soviet Union, Mai Zetterling from Sweden, Arthur Penn from the United States, Michael Pfleghar from Germany, Kon Ichikawa from Japan, Miloš Forman from Czechoslovakia, Claude Lelouch from France and John Schlesinger from England. However, of the original 10 signed, Italian filmmaker Franco Zeffirelli dropped out in protest of the " politicization of the Olympic spirit" when the apartheid country of Rhodesia was excluded from the games; and Ousmane Sembène of Senegal never completed his sequence, which was intended to follow the Senegalese basketball team from training camp to the games. 

The filmmakers were given complete creative freedom (within budget limitations) to bring their own personal perspective to a 10-to-12 minute short film on one dimension of the 1972 Summer Olympic Games. Once the filmmakers and producers agreed upon an event, the directors went to work with their own crews for their segments. With only a couple of exceptions, the athletes are not identified onscreen and the medal ceremonies—a standard part of most Olympic documentaries and TV presentations—are all but absent. The filmmakers focus on the athletes, the events and culture of the Olympic Games.

"I realized that the most exhausting, endeavoring and dramatic contest is the decathlon," said Miloš Forman in an interview featured on his official website. “Therefore, I chose it as my theme. Almost each event has its own special rhythm which I emphasized with specific music." Musical performances of German beerhall brass bands and Bavarian folk music featuring bell-ringing and alpine horns are intercut with the athletic competitions, culminating with an orchestral performance of Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" in the final events as Forman focuses on the exhaustion of the athletes.

Arthur Penn, whose use of slow motion brought out the brutality of the violence at the end of Bonnie and Clyde (1967), used even more dramatic slow-motion imagery for his look at pole vaulters in action in "The Highest." A high-speed technical camera designed for scientific use photographed athletes at 600 frames per second. Oscar-nominated film editor Dede Allen, who also collaborated on Bonnie and Clyde, edited the sequence. Kon Ichikawa, who previously documented the 1964 Summer Olympic Games in Tokyo Olympiad (1965), also turned to slow motion to analyze the sprinters of the 100-yard dash, using 34 cameras and 20,000 feet of film to draw out the 10-second race.

Mai Zetterling was initially interested in focusing on the women athletes, but after screening documentaries on previous Olympic Games she changed her mind and chose to take on the weightlifters. "I knew nothing about them, and cared less, but as I watched the film I became intrigued by the apparent obsessions that motivate men to distort their bodies so," she explained to journalist George Plimpton. Michael Pfleghar took on "The Women" in his segment and Yuriy Ozerov cast his lens on "The Beginning," which begins with the arrival of the athletes at the Olympic village and ends with preparations for various events. Claude Lelouch chose not an event but a theme. He trained his cameras on athletes in defeat in "The Losers." 

The 1972 Summer Olympics were the site of perhaps the most tragic event in Olympic history: the Palestinian terrorist organization Black September took 11 Israeli athletes and coaches hostage in the Olympic Village, all of whom were killed in a rescue attempt. Only one sequence acknowledges this assault on the spirit of the games and the lives of its athletes. John Schlesinger chose the marathon and followed British runner Ron Hill, a scientist who trained on his own before and after work in Lancashire. "The nature of the film about Hill changed personally for me after the Israeli killings," remarked Schlesinger, who was still in London at the time and scheduled to fly to Munich the next day to prepare shooting his sequence.

Schlesinger considered canceling entirely after Wolper refused his request to change subjects and focus on the attack and its reverberations, but he changed his mind after speaking with Hill, who told him, "If I allowed myself to think about what had happened, I would have become emotionally involved and thus not able to run." That single-minded focus intrigued Schlesinger, and he flew to Germany to complete his segment. "That's what I made my film about—that statement." The film ends with the dedication: "In memory of the 11 slain Israeli Athletes, tragic victims of the violence of our times."

The film screened out of competition at the 1973 Cannes Film Festival before it was released in theaters around the world, opening to generally positive reviews. It won the Golden Globe award for best documentary in 1974.

Sources:
"Olympic Visions of Eight," George Plimpton. Sports Illustrated, August 1973.
Milos Forman's Official Website
AFI Catalog of Feature Films

Visions Of Eight (1973)

Visions of Eight (1973)

For over 100 years, the International Olympic Committee has sponsored official documentaries celebrating both the Summer and Winter Olympic Games. Most of these originate within the country hosting the games. Visions of Eight (1973) was brought to the organizing committee of the XXth Olympiad by Oscar-nominated and Emmy-winning American documentary producer and filmmaker David L. Wolper. It was Wolper's idea to present the 1972 Summer Olympic Games as a mosaic seen through the lenses of respected filmmakers from around the world for an anthology film. Like the games themselves, the directors would represent an international collaboration.Wolper's original wish list of directors included Ingmar Bergman, Federico Fellini, François Truffaut, Akira Kurosawa, Luis Buñuel and Roman Polanski, all of whom initially expressed interest but ultimately declined. Ten directors from 10 different countries were finally signed to the project and the completed anthology presents, in the words of the film itself, "the separate visions of eight singular film artists." In order of presentation, the contributing filmmakers are Yuriy Ozerov from the Soviet Union, Mai Zetterling from Sweden, Arthur Penn from the United States, Michael Pfleghar from Germany, Kon Ichikawa from Japan, Miloš Forman from Czechoslovakia, Claude Lelouch from France and John Schlesinger from England. However, of the original 10 signed, Italian filmmaker Franco Zeffirelli dropped out in protest of the " politicization of the Olympic spirit" when the apartheid country of Rhodesia was excluded from the games; and Ousmane Sembène of Senegal never completed his sequence, which was intended to follow the Senegalese basketball team from training camp to the games. The filmmakers were given complete creative freedom (within budget limitations) to bring their own personal perspective to a 10-to-12 minute short film on one dimension of the 1972 Summer Olympic Games. Once the filmmakers and producers agreed upon an event, the directors went to work with their own crews for their segments. With only a couple of exceptions, the athletes are not identified onscreen and the medal ceremonies—a standard part of most Olympic documentaries and TV presentations—are all but absent. The filmmakers focus on the athletes, the events and culture of the Olympic Games."I realized that the most exhausting, endeavoring and dramatic contest is the decathlon," said Miloš Forman in an interview featured on his official website. “Therefore, I chose it as my theme. Almost each event has its own special rhythm which I emphasized with specific music." Musical performances of German beerhall brass bands and Bavarian folk music featuring bell-ringing and alpine horns are intercut with the athletic competitions, culminating with an orchestral performance of Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" in the final events as Forman focuses on the exhaustion of the athletes.Arthur Penn, whose use of slow motion brought out the brutality of the violence at the end of Bonnie and Clyde (1967), used even more dramatic slow-motion imagery for his look at pole vaulters in action in "The Highest." A high-speed technical camera designed for scientific use photographed athletes at 600 frames per second. Oscar-nominated film editor Dede Allen, who also collaborated on Bonnie and Clyde, edited the sequence. Kon Ichikawa, who previously documented the 1964 Summer Olympic Games in Tokyo Olympiad (1965), also turned to slow motion to analyze the sprinters of the 100-yard dash, using 34 cameras and 20,000 feet of film to draw out the 10-second race.Mai Zetterling was initially interested in focusing on the women athletes, but after screening documentaries on previous Olympic Games she changed her mind and chose to take on the weightlifters. "I knew nothing about them, and cared less, but as I watched the film I became intrigued by the apparent obsessions that motivate men to distort their bodies so," she explained to journalist George Plimpton. Michael Pfleghar took on "The Women" in his segment and Yuriy Ozerov cast his lens on "The Beginning," which begins with the arrival of the athletes at the Olympic village and ends with preparations for various events. Claude Lelouch chose not an event but a theme. He trained his cameras on athletes in defeat in "The Losers." The 1972 Summer Olympics were the site of perhaps the most tragic event in Olympic history: the Palestinian terrorist organization Black September took 11 Israeli athletes and coaches hostage in the Olympic Village, all of whom were killed in a rescue attempt. Only one sequence acknowledges this assault on the spirit of the games and the lives of its athletes. John Schlesinger chose the marathon and followed British runner Ron Hill, a scientist who trained on his own before and after work in Lancashire. "The nature of the film about Hill changed personally for me after the Israeli killings," remarked Schlesinger, who was still in London at the time and scheduled to fly to Munich the next day to prepare shooting his sequence.Schlesinger considered canceling entirely after Wolper refused his request to change subjects and focus on the attack and its reverberations, but he changed his mind after speaking with Hill, who told him, "If I allowed myself to think about what had happened, I would have become emotionally involved and thus not able to run." That single-minded focus intrigued Schlesinger, and he flew to Germany to complete his segment. "That's what I made my film about—that statement." The film ends with the dedication: "In memory of the 11 slain Israeli Athletes, tragic victims of the violence of our times."The film screened out of competition at the 1973 Cannes Film Festival before it was released in theaters around the world, opening to generally positive reviews. It won the Golden Globe award for best documentary in 1974.Sources:"Olympic Visions of Eight," George Plimpton. Sports Illustrated, August 1973.Milos Forman's Official WebsiteAFI Catalog of Feature Films

Visions of Eight - VISIONS OF EIGHT - Award Winning Documentary on the 1972 Munich Olympics


It's a shame that so few documentaries are produced about the Olympic Games. The grandiose showmanship of the games' opening and closing ceremonies is amazing in itself. Riefenstahl's account of the 1936 Berlin meet is a cinematic masterwork and Kon Ichikawa's coverage of the 1964 meet Tokyo Olympiad is a breakthrough sports documentary that captures much more than just the competition itself. When David Wolper commissioned eight international directors to contribute their personal takes on the 1972 Munich games for Visions of Eight, he was surely hoping something dramatic might occur. The games were instead marred by one of the most ugly terror crimes of the last century.

After an opening montage showing the lighting of the Olympic torch, the show separates into distinct chapters, each introduced with a photo montage of its filmmaker. A disclaimer has already reminded us that the docu is not a record of the games, but a selection of artistic interpretations, each built around a separate theme. The Beginning is a set-up piece by Juri (Yuri) Ozerov, a Soviet filmmaker who was also a Major in the KGB. A brief montage, it merely reminds us that the Olympic athletes must prepare to perform before thousands of people. Ozerov also makes the first mention of the murder of the Israeli team.

Swedish director Mai Zetterling's The Strongest regards the Olympic weightlifters as if they were giant monsters at work. These men seem in serious danger of injuring themselves, and one small accident does indeed look scary. Zetterling shows the burly champions chowing down on steaks before facing those enormous barbells. Which pot-bellied behemoth can do it? Part of the trick seems to be to achieve the correct mental state to even attempt the task. Zetterling is clearly impressed by these men, when she shows five German soldiers teaming to carry just one of the assembled barbells.

The Highest is directed by Arthur Penn and edited by Dede Allen. With no spoken introduction, we launch immediately into a slow-mo montage of pole-vaulters achieving what seem to be impossible jumping feats. Expert cinematography is on display as Penn and Allen weave a symphony of beautiful angles of vaulters in motion -- keyed up, happy, frustrated. The action is an adrenaline rush. Cameraman Walter Lassally uses purposely out of focus shots to impressive aesthetic effect.

German director Michael Pfleghar's segment is titled The Women, a category explained as "acknowledging their presence and contributions." Out expectations of a condescending piece vanish in a flurry of terrific faces of women competing and waiting to compete. Relaxed Henry Mancini music is put to good use, but less effective is a sequence showing female track stars backed by a "feminine" operatic aria. The gymnasts are doll-like super children, looking beautiful no matter how they contort their bodies. The emotions of winning and losing, and the contortions of maximum physical exertion are the same for both sexes, yet every beaming medal winner suddenly seems a beauty queen.

Kon Ichikawa's The Fastest analyzes a single 100-meter dash with 34 cameras running at 96 frames per second. It's a motion study of runners in absolute concentration for ten fleeting seconds, focusing first on individuals and then the full line of runners. Most of Ichikawa's creative input would seem to have ended at the conceptual stage, making this segment the least emotional. Through a voiceover the director lets us know that he believes the race "represents modern human existence". The brief chapter burned over 20,000 feet of film.

Much more personally involved is Czech director Milos Forman, who turns The Decathlon into an oddball comedy piece. Interjecting shots of musicians and performers from Olympic venues, Forman makes it seem as if a bandleader is waiting for the cue of a shot put thrower to start his downbeat. Sprinters are contrasted with bosomy cowbell players, and raucous yodeling seems to heckle a runner knocking over hurdles. Discus throwers? Clog dancing! The Decathlon competitors racing from one exhausting task to the next are compared with an Olympics official who yawns as he steals a quick nap. The point of the parody isn't clear, except to say that director Forman is a mischievous scamp.

The Losers sees French director Claude Lelouch in fine form; his examination of competitors facing defeat isn't as grim as it sounds. These athletes have already proven themselves and need make no excuses, yet many understandably look as if their lives are over. We spend quite a bit of time with a boxer, apparently having lost on a judge's call, simmering in rage and denial. He eventually disrupts the awarding of medals. A losing wrestler is visibly distraught yet behaves well. A cyclist crashes and is perhaps injured. When horse jumpers tumble, we hold our breaths. These competitors are perfectly entitled to show their emotions when things go wrong; we just want to tell them how fantastic they are. One wrestler calls a time out due to a possible injury. A doctor pops his cramped leg (or knee?) muscle back into line, and he tries to fight some more.

John Schlesinger's elaborate The Longest is a study of the Marathon. The director expresses the lonely experience of the runners, who must concentrate on their roadwork and cannot take part in the fun of the Olympic village. Unlike the majority of the other segments, many of Schlesinger's camera angles are pre-planned. He employs crane shots and attempts filming from the subjective viewpoint of an isolated runner, noting the circus-like distractions on the Marathon route. The sensitive soundtrack mixes breathing and footfalls with electronic music by Brian Hodgson. A screeching noise accompanies a runner stopped by a painful cramp. We see "mental mirage" images of beer being poured and other pleasant things the runner could be doing.

Schlesinger's episode incorporates the tragic terror attack at Munich. We see the hateful famous shot of a Palestinian terrorist on a dormitory balcony, followed by news reports and banners demanding that the games be stopped.

The Marathon runners enter the stadium to finish, some falling about in pain like war survivors. The show ends with an emotionally wrenching reprise of the lost Israeli team entering the stadium from the first day's opening ceremonies. John Schlesinger's segment ties the entire Olympics '72 experience into a meaningful and memorable statement. The film won a 1974 Golden Globe for Best Documentary.

Olive Films' DVD of Visions of Eight is a good transfer of a docu filmed with the finest technology of its day. The bulk of the action is seen through telephoto lenses yet has few if any focus problems. One excellent slow-motion shot has a light leak, a red glare that only makes the footage seem more precious. Henry Mancini's musical accompaniment ranges from various marches to relaxing mood music.

The film's overall spirit is a refreshing alternative to the television coverage of our present-day Olympics. Commercially oriented TV "scripting" promotes the games as a competition between nations, and concentrates disproportionate attention on marketable athlete-celebrities. Visions of Eight remains inspirational because it presents its athletes as humans, not superstars.

For more information about Visions of Eight, visit Olive Films. To order Visions of Eight, go to TCM Shopping.

by Glenn Erickson

Visions of Eight - VISIONS OF EIGHT - Award Winning Documentary on the 1972 Munich Olympics

It's a shame that so few documentaries are produced about the Olympic Games. The grandiose showmanship of the games' opening and closing ceremonies is amazing in itself. Riefenstahl's account of the 1936 Berlin meet is a cinematic masterwork and Kon Ichikawa's coverage of the 1964 meet Tokyo Olympiad is a breakthrough sports documentary that captures much more than just the competition itself. When David Wolper commissioned eight international directors to contribute their personal takes on the 1972 Munich games for Visions of Eight, he was surely hoping something dramatic might occur. The games were instead marred by one of the most ugly terror crimes of the last century. After an opening montage showing the lighting of the Olympic torch, the show separates into distinct chapters, each introduced with a photo montage of its filmmaker. A disclaimer has already reminded us that the docu is not a record of the games, but a selection of artistic interpretations, each built around a separate theme. The Beginning is a set-up piece by Juri (Yuri) Ozerov, a Soviet filmmaker who was also a Major in the KGB. A brief montage, it merely reminds us that the Olympic athletes must prepare to perform before thousands of people. Ozerov also makes the first mention of the murder of the Israeli team. Swedish director Mai Zetterling's The Strongest regards the Olympic weightlifters as if they were giant monsters at work. These men seem in serious danger of injuring themselves, and one small accident does indeed look scary. Zetterling shows the burly champions chowing down on steaks before facing those enormous barbells. Which pot-bellied behemoth can do it? Part of the trick seems to be to achieve the correct mental state to even attempt the task. Zetterling is clearly impressed by these men, when she shows five German soldiers teaming to carry just one of the assembled barbells. The Highest is directed by Arthur Penn and edited by Dede Allen. With no spoken introduction, we launch immediately into a slow-mo montage of pole-vaulters achieving what seem to be impossible jumping feats. Expert cinematography is on display as Penn and Allen weave a symphony of beautiful angles of vaulters in motion -- keyed up, happy, frustrated. The action is an adrenaline rush. Cameraman Walter Lassally uses purposely out of focus shots to impressive aesthetic effect. German director Michael Pfleghar's segment is titled The Women, a category explained as "acknowledging their presence and contributions." Out expectations of a condescending piece vanish in a flurry of terrific faces of women competing and waiting to compete. Relaxed Henry Mancini music is put to good use, but less effective is a sequence showing female track stars backed by a "feminine" operatic aria. The gymnasts are doll-like super children, looking beautiful no matter how they contort their bodies. The emotions of winning and losing, and the contortions of maximum physical exertion are the same for both sexes, yet every beaming medal winner suddenly seems a beauty queen. Kon Ichikawa's The Fastest analyzes a single 100-meter dash with 34 cameras running at 96 frames per second. It's a motion study of runners in absolute concentration for ten fleeting seconds, focusing first on individuals and then the full line of runners. Most of Ichikawa's creative input would seem to have ended at the conceptual stage, making this segment the least emotional. Through a voiceover the director lets us know that he believes the race "represents modern human existence". The brief chapter burned over 20,000 feet of film. Much more personally involved is Czech director Milos Forman, who turns The Decathlon into an oddball comedy piece. Interjecting shots of musicians and performers from Olympic venues, Forman makes it seem as if a bandleader is waiting for the cue of a shot put thrower to start his downbeat. Sprinters are contrasted with bosomy cowbell players, and raucous yodeling seems to heckle a runner knocking over hurdles. Discus throwers? Clog dancing! The Decathlon competitors racing from one exhausting task to the next are compared with an Olympics official who yawns as he steals a quick nap. The point of the parody isn't clear, except to say that director Forman is a mischievous scamp. The Losers sees French director Claude Lelouch in fine form; his examination of competitors facing defeat isn't as grim as it sounds. These athletes have already proven themselves and need make no excuses, yet many understandably look as if their lives are over. We spend quite a bit of time with a boxer, apparently having lost on a judge's call, simmering in rage and denial. He eventually disrupts the awarding of medals. A losing wrestler is visibly distraught yet behaves well. A cyclist crashes and is perhaps injured. When horse jumpers tumble, we hold our breaths. These competitors are perfectly entitled to show their emotions when things go wrong; we just want to tell them how fantastic they are. One wrestler calls a time out due to a possible injury. A doctor pops his cramped leg (or knee?) muscle back into line, and he tries to fight some more. John Schlesinger's elaborate The Longest is a study of the Marathon. The director expresses the lonely experience of the runners, who must concentrate on their roadwork and cannot take part in the fun of the Olympic village. Unlike the majority of the other segments, many of Schlesinger's camera angles are pre-planned. He employs crane shots and attempts filming from the subjective viewpoint of an isolated runner, noting the circus-like distractions on the Marathon route. The sensitive soundtrack mixes breathing and footfalls with electronic music by Brian Hodgson. A screeching noise accompanies a runner stopped by a painful cramp. We see "mental mirage" images of beer being poured and other pleasant things the runner could be doing. Schlesinger's episode incorporates the tragic terror attack at Munich. We see the hateful famous shot of a Palestinian terrorist on a dormitory balcony, followed by news reports and banners demanding that the games be stopped. The Marathon runners enter the stadium to finish, some falling about in pain like war survivors. The show ends with an emotionally wrenching reprise of the lost Israeli team entering the stadium from the first day's opening ceremonies. John Schlesinger's segment ties the entire Olympics '72 experience into a meaningful and memorable statement. The film won a 1974 Golden Globe for Best Documentary. Olive Films' DVD of Visions of Eight is a good transfer of a docu filmed with the finest technology of its day. The bulk of the action is seen through telephoto lenses yet has few if any focus problems. One excellent slow-motion shot has a light leak, a red glare that only makes the footage seem more precious. Henry Mancini's musical accompaniment ranges from various marches to relaxing mood music. The film's overall spirit is a refreshing alternative to the television coverage of our present-day Olympics. Commercially oriented TV "scripting" promotes the games as a competition between nations, and concentrates disproportionate attention on marketable athlete-celebrities. Visions of Eight remains inspirational because it presents its athletes as humans, not superstars. For more information about Visions of Eight, visit Olive Films. To order Visions of Eight, go to TCM Shopping. by Glenn Erickson

Kon Ichikawa (1915-2008)


Kon Ichikawa, the acclaimed Japanese director whose best work such as The Burmese Harp, Ototo and the documentary Tokyo Olympiad earned him international awards and further elevated the strength of post war Japanese cinema, died on February 13 in Tokyo of pneumonia. He was 92.

He was born on November 25, 1915, in Ise, Japan. Ichikawa built on a long standing fascination with art and animation when, after formal schooling, he moved to Kyoto to work at the animation department of J.O. Studios. Working his way up the studio ladder, he eventually made his first film, a 20 minute short called A Girl at Dojo Temple (1946) using a cast of puppets.

He spent the next few years working on small, but well-received features such as Endless Passion (1949), Stolen Love (1951) and Mr. Poo (1953) before scoring a breakout hit with his moving, sweeping epic The Burmese Harp (1956). The film, about a Japanese soldier (Shoji Yasui) who becomes a Buddhist monk and devotes himself to burying his dead comrades, was acclaimed for its strong humanity and meditative tone. It won the San Giorgio Prize at the Venice Film Festival and put Ichikawa on the map as a major talent.

Ichikawa would continue his solid streak throughout the '60s: the devastating, often horrific war drama Fires on the Plains (1959), the moving family drama Ototo (1960); a fascinating look at Japanese male virility in Kagi (1960, a Golden Globe and Cannes Festival winner); the strong social document The Outcast (1962); the gender bending An Actor's Revenge (1963); and his stunning observations of the 1964 Tokyo Olympics for Tokyo Olympiad (1965) which won a BAFTA winner for Best Documentary.

Although he would never quite scale the same artistic heights of the '50s and '60s, Ichikawa, ever the consummate filmmaker, would continue to have domestic hits in his native Japan in a variety of molds: social satire I Am A Cat (1975); the pulsating period piece The Firebird (1979); the sentimental, but beautifully photographed domestic drama, The Makioka Sisters (1983); and arguably, his last great film, the samurai epic 47 Ronin (1994).

Ichikawa was still directing theatrical and television movies well into his 80s and never officially retired. His last film was The Inugamis (2006). He was married to screenwriter Natto Wada from 1948 until her death in 1983. He is survived by two sons.

by Michael T. Toole

Kon Ichikawa (1915-2008)

Kon Ichikawa, the acclaimed Japanese director whose best work such as The Burmese Harp, Ototo and the documentary Tokyo Olympiad earned him international awards and further elevated the strength of post war Japanese cinema, died on February 13 in Tokyo of pneumonia. He was 92. He was born on November 25, 1915, in Ise, Japan. Ichikawa built on a long standing fascination with art and animation when, after formal schooling, he moved to Kyoto to work at the animation department of J.O. Studios. Working his way up the studio ladder, he eventually made his first film, a 20 minute short called A Girl at Dojo Temple (1946) using a cast of puppets. He spent the next few years working on small, but well-received features such as Endless Passion (1949), Stolen Love (1951) and Mr. Poo (1953) before scoring a breakout hit with his moving, sweeping epic The Burmese Harp (1956). The film, about a Japanese soldier (Shoji Yasui) who becomes a Buddhist monk and devotes himself to burying his dead comrades, was acclaimed for its strong humanity and meditative tone. It won the San Giorgio Prize at the Venice Film Festival and put Ichikawa on the map as a major talent. Ichikawa would continue his solid streak throughout the '60s: the devastating, often horrific war drama Fires on the Plains (1959), the moving family drama Ototo (1960); a fascinating look at Japanese male virility in Kagi (1960, a Golden Globe and Cannes Festival winner); the strong social document The Outcast (1962); the gender bending An Actor's Revenge (1963); and his stunning observations of the 1964 Tokyo Olympics for Tokyo Olympiad (1965) which won a BAFTA winner for Best Documentary. Although he would never quite scale the same artistic heights of the '50s and '60s, Ichikawa, ever the consummate filmmaker, would continue to have domestic hits in his native Japan in a variety of molds: social satire I Am A Cat (1975); the pulsating period piece The Firebird (1979); the sentimental, but beautifully photographed domestic drama, The Makioka Sisters (1983); and arguably, his last great film, the samurai epic 47 Ronin (1994). Ichikawa was still directing theatrical and television movies well into his 80s and never officially retired. His last film was The Inugamis (2006). He was married to screenwriter Natto Wada from 1948 until her death in 1983. He is survived by two sons. by Michael T. Toole

Quotes

Trivia

Miscellaneous Notes

Released in United States Winter January 1, 1973

Released in United States 1973

Released in United States Winter January 1, 1973

Released in United States 1973 (Out of Competition)

Released in United States July 1984

Released in United States July 1984 (Shown at FILMEX: Los Angeles International Film Exposition (Sports Cinema - Olympic Films) July 5¿20, 1984.)