Kazuo Hara is a director whose films have garnered a reputation for following campaigns that push against the restrictive boundaries of Japanese society. From his debut film Goodbye CP to the classic The Emperor’s Naked Army Marches On (1987), right up until 2019’s Reiwa Uprising, the director’s stamina is seemingly endless while following such movements. His latest film is potentially his most ambitious yet; clocking in at just over six hours long and shot over 15 years, the film follows citizens of Minamata in Southern Japan, a city whose name has become synonymous with the neurological illness that developed there.
Going back to 1937, the Chisso Corporation began siphoning their toxic waste into Minamata Bay. This led to mass mercury poisoning during the following years, causing many in the town to develop what is now known as Minamata disease, a condition wherein many of the brain’s sensory cells begin to degenerate. Common symptoms include ataxia, numbness in the hands, feet, and particularly the lips. Damage to hearing and speech and in some cases paralysis can also emerge as part of the illness. The disease was discovered in 1956, and officially recognized by the Japanese government 12 years later; however, this came with a number of inaccuracies regarding the cause of the illness and the measures that had actually been taken to prevent future cases. Thus, a campaign for proper recognition and a formal apology began.
As we have seen with his 2017 film, Senan Asbestos Disaster, Hara is a master of rooting himself in a movement without ever allowing himself to take precedence or feeling the need to insert his own views on the situation. Across the 15 years in which the film was shot, Hara interviews a wide range of people suffering from Minamata. This is not only to capture the scale of the issue but the many battles faced within it.
The film begins by following the campaign to change the actual definition of Minamata. Originally thought to be a nerve-based disease, researchers within the community were quick to establish that it was in fact brain-based. This difference is key to the confirmation of the illness, something that is extremely rare. As of 2001, only 265 victims of Minamata had been officially recognized, despite the fact that in Minamata there are plainly thousands more victims still fighting the disease. Hara shows us the lengths at which one must go in order to have a case officially confirmed, shooting long reaction tests and splitting the screen to provide a graphic that catalogs the data recovered. Hara often uses graphics as a way to relay complex information, making sure to document as much of the data the campaigners have found as possible.
The film then moves on to show us how, over time, the Japanese state has twisted and turned the crisis in order to avoid responsibility. Throughout the film, we see examples of government representatives not facing up to the victims and their families, refusing to deliver an official apology for the disaster that they allowed to happen. Hara’s camera throughout these scenes makes sure to focus on the voices of those affected by the state’s actions, capturing every moment of their fury. The six-hour runtime, and the sheer amount of information that the film provides, also adds to the viewers’ own anger. We know that what the state is saying cannot be true and we know the vast scale of the catastrophe — something they will not recognize. The film is bookended by meetings of this type, the first occurring in 2004 and the last in 2014, both ending in a woefully unprepared government representative scurrying away with their tail between their legs and the families and victims of Minamata left without justice.
Minamata Mandala could easily be seen as a culmination of Hara’s work. He captures the passion, rage, and hope of a movement like no other documentarian. In his campaign films, he seems to know when to insert and remove his presence, as well as not allow the scale of a campaign to constrict itself to a more commercial runtime. At 6 hours and 12 minutes, the film feels to be at the perfect length. If anything, it could be longer given that the battle has gone on for well over half a century. The film is a monumental document of the people of Minamata and their fight for justice. Hara’s film strikes you to your core, filling you with the rage of the victims and wanting to force change — this is documentary at its most effective. Perhaps the greatest documentarian of them all in terms of capturing the spirit of a movement, Hara’s latest proves to be an unmissable entry into his opus.
