A Soldier's Prayer is the final chapter in Masaki Kobayashi's outstanding trilogy about one man attempting to exist in the totalitarian society of Japan during World War II.
Each film of this incredible trilogy presents a different challenge to the notion of trying to remain decent, trying to keep one's humanity within a system, a country, a time, and a world where indecency and inhumanity rule. Tatsuya Nakadai's Kaji is the center of this terrible challenge that began in the first film as he attempted to humanely run a workcamp in China, a place where cruelty was the defining order, in the second film he attempted to be a "good" soldier in a horrible system where mistreating even their own recruits was a standing order, and in this final film, we open as Kaji is no longer within the confines of restraint of systematic cruelty, but rather in the fire of the chaos of a wartorn land. We open as Kaji a couple of other soldiers managed to survive the onslaught of the Soviet army and now are attempting to trek towards any kind of safety within what is believed to be Japanese-occupied China. And even in these earliest of scenes, the power of Nakadai's performance is relevant in giving one of the most accomplished transformations of a single performer through a series of films by showing us who Kaji is at the opening of this film compared to who he was at the opening of the trilogy.
His performance in the first film was that of the idealist despite everything that happened, and in the second film, there was more of the realist idealist, a man attempting to be good while dealing with the bad as honestly as he could. In the third film though so much of what he was is thrown out, while the brilliance of Nakadai's work is it feels so naturally honest to the experience of the character we had met at the start to who he is at the beginning of the end. Nakadai in fact is only 2 years older than when he starred in the first film but feels much older, and not due to his facial hair, but rather his expression that denotes the trauma of what he's gone through but more importantly what he is presently going through. This is a man who is no longer attempting to maintain this certain grace as the idealist living through this oppressive system, he is now a man trying to survive. Nakadai's performance internalizes this so powerfully early on in the film as the first act, to save himself and a few other soldiers, including the young Terada (Yusuke Kawazu) who looks up to him, is to kill a Russian soldier in order for them to get by. While formerly torn up in his murder, Nakadai now shows on the immediate surface the ability, really the function Kaji now has to kill, even if his eyes do denote still the pain deep within the man, mournful over what he has had to become.
Nakadai gives what is truly a performance with the sense of survival as Kaji takes the lead among himself and a few other soldiers, despite not being the highest rank, as they attempt to find some kind of safety. And his performance is reflective of the condition of this state immediately. The sense of danger, the sense of death even is a constant in Nakadai's manner, he is someone who carries with him the caution within him, but also this striking persistence that seems a near constant within the man despite the severity of his situation. Nakadai accentuates every moment of this journey, along with Kobayashi's masterful direction, as the men try to push through. The sense of really an innate exhaustion is part of his performance and really just brilliantly performed in every regard as Nakadai simply is this. It is the state, although Kaji at this moment seems to be most able to survive, he is also very much within this situation at all times. He is being worn down, but he must persist. Nakadai's performance just so flawlessly realizes this specific dichotomy as he shows that Kaji is a man thriving, in as far as a man can thrive in such a wretched situation. The situation becomes all the more painful when the trio comes across a random group of Japanese civilians.
This sequence, where the group is lost in a dense seemingly endless forest, is honestly one of the most harrowing put to film, as you see the group in such desperate straits that the civilians are just dropping like flies throughout the sequence in a way that is so matter of fact which makes it so painful. Nakadai throughout this scene shows how Kaji both has changed and stayed the same throughout this personal journey in the three films in his interactions with the civilians throughout. Because in part there is the blunt manner of a man who has to survive in this place, and when one group attempts to steal the parties food, Nakadai's intense dismissal against her pleas borders upon cruel, yet he delivers each word of thought as the truth of the situation, as a man who knows to allow such choices would lead to the death of all. Nakadai shows in some ways a distance in his eyes even when hearing about one of the deaths after another, his reactions are pitch perfect though because they aren't completely soulless, rather just adjusted to a difficult-to-penetrate shield of the man who must be callous in some ways to avoid dying, And there is still humanity in there, even if it is more intimate, more subtle than it is ever been, Nakadai still conveys it as within Kaji even if nearly dormant. A particularly affecting moment in this regard is when one of the women reminds him of his wife, and Nakadai's way of sort of drifting to the old Kaji in his expression is so heartbreaking because you see it but a momentary lapse into dreaming.
Surviving the forest with few other than his soldiers, the men do appear to find some safety, albeit momentarily, however just as quickly find themselves right into the fire as the local Chinese have organized militias against Japanese soldiers, and still yet there are Japanese soldiers who firmly believe in their cause. Nakadai is amazing in these standoff scenes because he so naturally shows the growth of Kaji into a true leader as he faces off against one of the Japanese men, and throughout we see this different side of him which Nakadai flawlessly performs. That is in some ways Kaji is the leader of the people; Nakadai delivers this innate strength and conviction to every moment. His eyes become the man of action and Nakadai is wholly convincing in a way of portraying how these ordeals have at this moment strengthed Kaji as a man in some ways. There is a power to him as he manages to talk down to a pompous Japanese soldier and you see the man mixed with survival and idealism. The man who speaks his words as the truth, though now with a specific action to try to avoid the nonsensical continuation of the war and instead attempt to try to get home to his wife. There is a ferocity in Nakadai in these moments that creates a real sense of power even in a moment of seeming hopelessness. Hopelessness is persuasive as they quickly go right back into the fire facing off against the Chinese, who kill the last surviving peasant. Nakadai's great in showing in one moment the persistence in Kaji as he maneuvers around the war scape, bringing you into every moment of it through his moment, while also being devastating in his reaction to losing the woman he had some connection with. Nakadai in this instance shows the earliest Kaji in the pain in his reaction, but also where Kaji has gone in the violence in searing in his eyes as he considers revenge.
And Nakadai's work is outstanding here in its ability to so reflexively interact with every situation, which manages to convey the heartbreak or horror of it, while often presenting the intensity and chaos. Nakadai never is lost, even if Kaji technically is, creating such a potent centerpiece that is this essential anchor to the film. Take a moment where Kaji, along with the other soldiers, escorts two refugees and Nakadai brings such a strict sincerity in his interactions with the young woman. His performance in the moment of respite brings again a beauty to humanity, albeit briefly however the gentleness is so powerful because you see this return to the man he was, and garners a real poignancy. Similar, though less poignant, is when he briefly talks politics with old friends as he questions a group of Japanese attempt to join the Americans in helping the non-communist Chinese forces, and for a moment you get a glimpse of the student, the socialist and pacifist in his pondering. Of course, such things are cut short when he learns that some of the escorting soldiers probably raped and maybe also murdered the young woman after he left. Nakadai's extraordinary because every time his performance shows you the pain in this unfortunate return back to the present horrors, and the intensity of his distaste is again the man hardened by war. Nakadai shows with so much power the outrage that conspires in Kaji as he goes about beating the man down. Nakadai in his performance alone creates the real tragedy of the story because within it is the human condition as we see that glimpse of the man perhaps finding hope again, only for it to be dashed again by the cruelty of the time and place that he exists in.
This would maybe be enough for Nakadai to give a great performance, and he has, as we get to the end of seeming the journey as the man is the leader to the men as he goes to a refugee of Japanese women, and attempts to humanely figure out what to do next. Nakadai in this sequence brings a distinct stoic quality that defines the man by his determination to get home more than anything and maintain any decency he has left. Even as he frustrates others with his candor Nakadai exudes this with an honest conviction. There's a great moment where the Russians come calling and while Kaji is ready to battle, in his eyes it is the side of a man hardened by war, ready to kill, until one of the refugee women asks everyone to avoid violence, Nakadai's reaction is perfection in showing Kaji's conscience catching up with him and pulling back from that brink. Unfortunately, capture does not mean Kaji's troubles are over as he finds himself in the stay of the Soviets, who slide around in their compassion, meanwhile, Kaji tries to save the young Terada, which quickly gets him into hot water with the authorities, particularly because he isn't at all helped by the extremely corrupt Japanese "translator" who relays all his messages inaccurately often purposefully dishonestly. And while Nakadai's reaction initially is of the man still going along, still surviving, things only are exacerbated as he finds himself under the thumb again of the corrupt Japanese officers now used to police their own men though under Soviet watch, including the rapist that Kaji had beaten down earlier.
We have a brilliant sequence for Nakadai as he attempts to negotiate and explain his actions, where he has been stealing minor things for survival, to the Soviets with the "help" of the bad translator. Nakadai's work in this scene is one of the greatest portrayals of frustration I've seen quite honestly as throughout the scene you see the man's passion for life, decency, and even politics waning away to his seemingly uncaring audience. His eyes slowly become more and more lost as it seems his words becoming meaningless, and his delivery goes from passionate, to frustrated to just becoming lost. His whole manner crumbled before the audience and just a man falling nearly into insanity, only getting a reprieve from a somewhat sympathetic Soviet officer who attempts to give him a lighter punishment. Unfortunately, the light punishment proves tragic as it takes him from being able to protect Terada. An important note to be their older/younger brother relationship throughout the film that is particularly striking in the prison scenes. Nakadai brings the last of Kaji's warmth and optimism as he encourages the younger man to survive and tries to help him see potential in the future. Terada though is essentially overworked and brutalized to death by the rapist, and with that, you have Kaji's breaking point. Nakadai now shows a man with conviction but without real hope in his eyes. His delivery is cold in a way that is disturbing as his intention to run from the camp to reunite with his wife no longer seems practical, rather it seems fatalistic. Before he attempts his escape though he first kills the rapist, and while it couldn't have happened to a worse person, Nakadai's performance though doesn't sell it as something easy to reckon with. Rather he delivers this fierce hatred of everything he's been outraging against, the humanity of the man nearly gone as he rages against the man for his lack of humanity. Nakadai is terrifying by showing any warmth left from Kaji as he cuts the man down, destroying him without mercy or pity. This leaves Kaji final march to attempt to get home and to describe Nakadai's work as stellar in this sequence seems an understatement. Nakadai is astonishing every step of the way, and in what is essentially a silent performance, other than his narration which is the repetition of this belief that he can get home. Nakadai's face becomes this state of ever-growing madness in his eyes and his manner as he slowly decays before us. In every frame, Nakadai loses some sense of self and some greater exhaustion. His performance shows in nearly real-time the decay of the man both in mind and body and it is an unforgettable sight as he loses himself. Nakadai is unbelievable as he brings us to the point of mutual breaking that couldn't be more heartbreaking, as his eyes seem to find this state of jubilation as he believes himself to be back home, while his whole physique is that of a dying man. His final moment of falling into his snowy grave is one of the most poignantly depicted losses of life ever onscreen. An extraordinary end to an already extraordinary performance, because Nakadai here he does show us the journey of this man, but potentially any man, attempting to be the best of humanity, while falling to the worst of it by the end.
