Yes, Brando is in yellowface and knowing he would be made me dread watching this film, but it was worth giving it a chance. For one thing, I never thought I would see a movie with Michiko Kyo aggressively trying to undress Glen Ford after being introduced to him by Marlon Brando. Ah, the magic of cinema.
The film is not without its issues which I'll get to in a moment, but on the positive side, it's not mean-spirited, and the real target of its satire is the U. S. Army brass, making it a forerunner of films like M*A*S*H. That's represented mostly by a pompous and dimwitted Colonel, Wainwright Purdy III ("a son of a ... son of a son", played by Paul Ford), who wants his Captain on Okinawa to lead the building of a pentagon-shaped (lol) schoolhouse. The only trouble is his Captain (Glen Ford) sees the wisdom of the local culture, and nudged along by his gently cunning translator (Brando), "goes native." A psychiatrist (Eddie Albert) is sent to check up on him, and he, too, ends up forgetting about the Colonel's commands.
Rather surprisingly, Brando was far from this film's biggest problem. His character is the most intelligent from either culture, practically and philosophically, and he gave a good performance, one without overtly offensive stereotypes. One could argue that he's too mild-mannered, too neutered, in keeping with the emasculation of Asian men by Hollywood, but the film is a comedy after all, and light-hearted all around. Obviously, this should have been cast with a person of Japanese descent, but to say the film is "racist" is too strong, and using it in places like this cheapens the word.
Meanwhile, through the characters of Glen Ford and Eddie Albert, several progressive concepts float through. For example, Ford sets up a co-op where everybody in the village is a partner so that they can "share and share alike" in the selling of their local products, including sweet potato brandy. "That's communism!" his commanding officer bellows. But this system is never shown to have some type of evil consequence, which was pretty impressive for the Red Scare/Cold War years in conservative America. Yes, he is essentially pushing capitalism, but it's notable that we also see that mass manufacturing has the unfair power to crush the little craftsmen and their handmade products.
Meanwhile, you have Albert's character pushing organic, chemical-free farming, about a decade ahead of his time for America. After extolling the virtues of using manure, he says "When you kill a worm, you're killing a friend." How I loved this little part of the film.
Through the locals, Ford's character learns the beauty of being still and appreciating a sunset. Perhaps my favorite moment was when he says this, which was delightfully contrary (or at least tempering) to the ambitions of his country at the time:
"I've learned in Tobiki the wisdom of gracious acceptance. See, I don't want to be a world leader. I've made peace with myself somewhere between my ambitions and my limitations."
It was also delightful to see Michiko Kyo here, playing traditional music and singing among other things. To the film's credit, Brando's character explains that a geisha is not the same as a western prostitute, but the use of a subservient geisha here, as in other films, was certainly part of the "exotic" appeal. As Gina Marchetti describes in Romance and the "Yellow Peril", many films in this period "used the myth of the subservient Japanese woman to shore up a threatened masculinity in light of American women's growing independence during World War II." Of the popularity of American films with geishas, she wisely points out: "For a time, in fact, it appeared as if the geisha was Hollywood's chief emblem of postwar reconciliation. Although on the surface she might appear cool, distant, mysterious, or morally suspect, underneath she was seen as docile, eager to please, malleable, childlike, and vulnerable. Metaphorically, a bellicose Japan, through the figure of the geisha, became a yielding and dependent nation."
On top of that, Ford's character does come across as a White Savior in some respects. For example, when he arrives at the village early on, he begins appointing people for local positions like Chief of Police, as if these things would have never been conceived of before. Thankfully, Brando's character balances some of this out, mentioning more than once that his civilization goes back thousands of years. The film does have a rather nauseating scene where Kyo's character wants to marry Ford's and come to America. With Brando seated behind Kyo as she demurely averted her gaze, Ford held all the power and in his wise beneficence, demurred, which just got to be a little much.
Overall, an interesting film, and certainly even more so when contrasting it to the tone and perspective of Japanese films from this period. It's flawed and not uproariously funny as a comedy, but I liked its spirit and was amused. It deserves criticism, but not as much vitriol as it gets.
The film is not without its issues which I'll get to in a moment, but on the positive side, it's not mean-spirited, and the real target of its satire is the U. S. Army brass, making it a forerunner of films like M*A*S*H. That's represented mostly by a pompous and dimwitted Colonel, Wainwright Purdy III ("a son of a ... son of a son", played by Paul Ford), who wants his Captain on Okinawa to lead the building of a pentagon-shaped (lol) schoolhouse. The only trouble is his Captain (Glen Ford) sees the wisdom of the local culture, and nudged along by his gently cunning translator (Brando), "goes native." A psychiatrist (Eddie Albert) is sent to check up on him, and he, too, ends up forgetting about the Colonel's commands.
Rather surprisingly, Brando was far from this film's biggest problem. His character is the most intelligent from either culture, practically and philosophically, and he gave a good performance, one without overtly offensive stereotypes. One could argue that he's too mild-mannered, too neutered, in keeping with the emasculation of Asian men by Hollywood, but the film is a comedy after all, and light-hearted all around. Obviously, this should have been cast with a person of Japanese descent, but to say the film is "racist" is too strong, and using it in places like this cheapens the word.
Meanwhile, through the characters of Glen Ford and Eddie Albert, several progressive concepts float through. For example, Ford sets up a co-op where everybody in the village is a partner so that they can "share and share alike" in the selling of their local products, including sweet potato brandy. "That's communism!" his commanding officer bellows. But this system is never shown to have some type of evil consequence, which was pretty impressive for the Red Scare/Cold War years in conservative America. Yes, he is essentially pushing capitalism, but it's notable that we also see that mass manufacturing has the unfair power to crush the little craftsmen and their handmade products.
Meanwhile, you have Albert's character pushing organic, chemical-free farming, about a decade ahead of his time for America. After extolling the virtues of using manure, he says "When you kill a worm, you're killing a friend." How I loved this little part of the film.
Through the locals, Ford's character learns the beauty of being still and appreciating a sunset. Perhaps my favorite moment was when he says this, which was delightfully contrary (or at least tempering) to the ambitions of his country at the time:
"I've learned in Tobiki the wisdom of gracious acceptance. See, I don't want to be a world leader. I've made peace with myself somewhere between my ambitions and my limitations."
It was also delightful to see Michiko Kyo here, playing traditional music and singing among other things. To the film's credit, Brando's character explains that a geisha is not the same as a western prostitute, but the use of a subservient geisha here, as in other films, was certainly part of the "exotic" appeal. As Gina Marchetti describes in Romance and the "Yellow Peril", many films in this period "used the myth of the subservient Japanese woman to shore up a threatened masculinity in light of American women's growing independence during World War II." Of the popularity of American films with geishas, she wisely points out: "For a time, in fact, it appeared as if the geisha was Hollywood's chief emblem of postwar reconciliation. Although on the surface she might appear cool, distant, mysterious, or morally suspect, underneath she was seen as docile, eager to please, malleable, childlike, and vulnerable. Metaphorically, a bellicose Japan, through the figure of the geisha, became a yielding and dependent nation."
On top of that, Ford's character does come across as a White Savior in some respects. For example, when he arrives at the village early on, he begins appointing people for local positions like Chief of Police, as if these things would have never been conceived of before. Thankfully, Brando's character balances some of this out, mentioning more than once that his civilization goes back thousands of years. The film does have a rather nauseating scene where Kyo's character wants to marry Ford's and come to America. With Brando seated behind Kyo as she demurely averted her gaze, Ford held all the power and in his wise beneficence, demurred, which just got to be a little much.
Overall, an interesting film, and certainly even more so when contrasting it to the tone and perspective of Japanese films from this period. It's flawed and not uproariously funny as a comedy, but I liked its spirit and was amused. It deserves criticism, but not as much vitriol as it gets.