Although he is widely regarded as a pioneer of the jidaigeki genre, Daisuke Ito’s directorial efforts remain elusive in the West. Fans of boutique home video distribution labels (including Criterion, Arrow, and the no-longer-defunct AnimEigo) are probably more familiar with his work as a screenwriter; during the chanbara renaissance of the 1960s, he contributed scripts to some of the most entertaining entries in the Zatoichi and Sleepy Eyes of Death series. Fortunately, the universe tossed an early Christmas present my way: the opportunity to see A Diary of Chuji’s Travels—often considered to be his magnum opus—on the big screen.
And what a delightful experience it was! Despite existing only in a heavily truncated state—like many silent era productions, the currently available print is cobbled together from disparate sources, and several fragments remain lost—the movie never feels incomplete, thanks in no small part to its episodic narrative structure (originally, exhibitors would have presented these now-compiled chapters in a serialized format). Ito adapts the adventures of the eponymous folk hero—a chivalrous outlaw akin to Robin Hood—with aplomb, deftly juggling various moods and tones: pathos, humor, romance, tragedy, suspense. The scene in which our ailing protagonist—partially paralyzed by a chronic illness—evades the combined forces of the local police and a rival gang is particularly thrilling, showcasing the kinetic camerawork and frenetic fight choreography that were apparently the filmmaker’s stylistic trademarks.
Japan Society’s screening of the feature was accompanied by a pair of live performers that deserve recognition. While benshi Ichiro Kataoka's narration seldom deviated from the perfectly legible intertitles, his excellent comedic timing consistently enriched what might otherwise have been rather dry exposition, and his infrequent embellishments were always welcome additions to the text. Musician Sumie Kaneko’s evocative instrumentals (which utilized both shamisen and koto to great effect—an impressive display of versatility) and mournful vocals likewise elevated the material, lending the action an appropriate sense of gravitas and poignancy.
Between A Diary of Chuji’s Travels and BAM’s The Art of the Benshi program, 2024 has been a real blast from the past, providing a fascinating glimpse into a relatively obscure period in the history of cinema. I sincerely hope that the trend continues next year and beyond; the increasingly rare craft of “talking the pictures” ought to be preserved for future generations.
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