Japn 340 Japanese Cinema: Okuribito (Departures)
There are a few things that come through to me in this film:
1. It is about the beauty and the harmony that can be found in preparing the human body for its last voyage. Mostly considered gross, polluting and unpleasant, in the hands of a master, it becomes something noble and refined. The master performs his ritual much the way a Tea Master performs the tea ceremony--with great elegance, beauty and subtle emotion. Moreover, the mind becomes empty in a Zen or Daoist fashion, the body functions with effortlessness, or "wu-wei" = "non-striving" or "non-coercive action" in Chinese philosophy.
Everything is done beautifully and peacefully. "One grown cold, [is] restored to beauty for all eternity. This was done with calmness, and precision and, above all, gentle affection." The correct perfomance of ritual is important because it must be performed in front of the family who are, of course, grief stricken. It is a monumental challenge!
2. The companion of the mistress of the Tsuru Public Bath, who is also responsible for firing up the crematorium, observes that "Maybe death is a gateway. (mon 門) Dying doesn't mean the end. You go through it in order to get to the next thing. And as the Gatekeeper, I have sent many on their way":
"Off you go, now." (itte-irasshai) "We'll meet again." (Mata aou 又, 会おう).
The Gatekeeper pushes the green button and as the coffin starts to burn, the shot dissolves into geese lifting off in flight...Poetic beauty?
3. The "Stone Letters" ("Ishibumi,"石文)
Daigo gives one to Mika, his father gave the large-ish one to him which he (re)discovers when he pulls his childhood cello out of its case, and, in the end, his father was holding the smooth little white stone that Daigo had given him when he was still a child. When Daigo recalls that moment from his childhood, his father's face is blurry, its features indistinct. He really cannot recall this parent who abandoned him. But it comes full-circle, back to Daigo, who gives it to Mika and when she tries to give it back to him, he folds it into her hand and together they press it against her body where their child resides.
4.There is also a special moment in the film when Mika watches lovingly and with admiration as Daigo prepares his father's body for its final journey. Mika has not always appreciated Daigo's new profession; in fact, just prior to this scene, she returned to Daigo after leaving him because he would not quit his job; but her return was seemingly conditional on him leaving behind this unacceptable occupation. Other voices were also urging him to quit and get a real or "proper" job. Touching dead bodies is taboo in Japanese society; it is associated with pollution and, in fact, Mika is repulsed by Daigo's touch after she knows the truth and calls him "dirty" (kegare). She does not think--at this point--that he could tell his child what he does for a living; it would make the child the object of ijime--bullying. Could he live with that?
But just then the phone rings and the woman who owned the public bath--Tsuyako Yamashita--has died suddently. Daigo goes to attend to her and Mika accompanies him. So she sits there as Daigo lovingly and expertly performs his solemn rituals. We can see her go through a transformation: her eyes fill with emotion; they shine with a mixture of love, pride and admiration. Now, she gets it!
She is starting to appreciate all that this job entails: the kind of concentration, attention to detail and the care that it demands. Likewise, she understands what it means to Daigo. Perhaps like an artist or a musician, the Nôkanshi (納棺師), the encoffiner, performs with beauty and grace; his whole body and being become an expression of human dignity and worth, and the service he provides is something that the families need. The ritual on "encoffining" brings healing and hope to the families who are grieving or torn asunder.
Consider the first case of Tomeo who is transgendered, a scene that we actually see twice though the second version and the first are far from identical. His father could not accept his son in life but the beauty that Mr. Sasaki brings out in death helps him reconcile and accept his son for what he was. Healing and reconciliation are part of what the Nôkanshi does and this is always emotionally powerful.
Daigo also comes from a broken family; his father abandoned him and his mother when he was only six. He tells Mika that he can no longer remember his father's face. He hates his father and holds him in contempt.
Mika's transformation is complete when he comes to attend his father's corpse later on. When it becomes apparent that the undertakers are complete bumblers, Daigo takes over the preparation part. They are stunned but Mika explains
My husband is a Nôkanshi (Otto wa nôkanshi nan desu--夫は 納棺し なんです), i.e., he is an encoffiner.
The subtitles actually render this sentence as "My husband is a professional," which is fine; it says a lot, too. But it may not convey as effectively as the original Japanese how difficult it was for Mika to get to that point where she actually could utter that word, Nôkanshi (the "NK" of NK Agents), with pride, and say to the world that this is what her husband does--and that he is good at it. It was a long distance for Mika to traverse.
But, as we saw, she first began to see this side of Daigo and the rituals he performs, when he prepared the body of Tsuyako, the lady who ran the sentô or public bath, for her final journey--the calmness, the beauty, the affection that he manifested--and we can see it in her eyes that she gets it. And for Daigo, too, the nôkan ritual is powerful because his hatred for his father is transformed into love. This is, indeed, the power of ritual, of elegant, precise, calm and beautiful movements that prepare the dead for their peaceful "departure" into the next life, the afterlife. As Daigo shaves his father's face and touches it with his hands, tears pour from his eyes. Now, when he remembers his past, his father handing him his "Stone Letter," his father's face comes into focus. At long last.
One of the interesting things about Departures is that it was the pet project of the lead actor who plays Daigo, Masahiro Motoki. Motoki started his entertainment career as a member of boy band Shibugaki Tai (シブがき隊 Shibugakitai) but nearly 10 years before the film was finally made, Motoki--after he had observed funeral rituals in the Ganges River in India, read an autobiography called Nokanfu Nikki (often called Coffin Man), by Buddhist mortician Aoki Shinmon, which describes the nokanshi procedure in detail, inspiring the film’s story. Taking every precaution in depicting this delicate issue, Motoki took nearly a decade to produce and release the film, never expecting it to do well. As an actor, he navigates delicately and awkwardly between the harsh reality of dead bodies and live, and handling the emotional turmoil of the screaming, broken families of the deceased. Through his performance of Ritual the proper way, the way it should be performed, he promotes dialogue and healing in the families. The ensemble cast that he assembled for the film work with him, and their dedication to the art is what makes the film a true gift.
Extravagantly and gently, Departures moves us to undertake emotional and spiritual quests. For Daigo, it is a journey, but also a coming home. He returned to Yamagata where at least some people "know his name" and both value and nurture him. Especially Tsuyako of the public bath.
In one scene, Daigo stands on the bridge when the older man form the bath house--who also runs the crematorium--stops by and they watch the salmon struggling to swim upsptream against the current in order to spawn. And then they die. Daigo remarks that it seems like a waste but the reply is that they want to come home.
In Japan, beauty has always been associated with death; it is only now in Departures that we have a re-definition of Japanese beauty as a conversation for persevering, for enduring life. It is a rare feast – even among the dead, the accursed ghosts haunting our convenience culture – to taste such lovingly crafted delicacy, a re-humanized vision for death and life.
Excerpted from and adapted from:
See also this pdf from the 2013 issue of the Journal of Religion and Film, "Shinto and Buddhist Metaphors in Departures," which describes in detail the original text and the film: