Sarugaku-cho, neighborhood around A-bomb Dome, Part 10: Filmmaker leaves visual record of people’s lives in his vanished neighborhood
Aug. 4, 1997
by Masami Nishimoto, Staff Writer at News Department
“I was a second-year student at the National School at that time.” Masaaki Tanabe, 59, a filmmaker, wrote that in his personal account of his experience in the atomic bombing. His account is included in Genbaku no Ko (in English, ‘Children of the A-bomb’), a collection of children’s personal A-bombing accounts compiled in 1951 during the occupation of Japan by the United States, the nation that dropped the atomic bombs, and published as part of the Iwanami Bunko series. Amidst the green of spring, in May, Mr. Tanabe began filming his high-definition work at Peace Memorial Park. “A little to the left… full size… OK,” he shouted with vigor.
Wearing a cap to prevent sunburn, Mr. Tanabe, the director and producer, did not move for some time, with his visor turned to the subject of the filming, despite other staff already moving to the next shooting location. “Over there was the exact place my grandmother and I dug out rooftiles, with the soles of our feet burning from the blazing heat. We were ultimately unable to find any remains.” His birth home had been located within the grounds of the A-bomb Dome, now surrounded by fencing.
At the address “24 Sarugaku-cho,” his mother, Yaeko, 31 at the time, and younger brother, Koro, one year old, were killed in the atomic bombing. His father, Fumio, 38, a first lieutenant in the Japanese Army, experienced the atomic bombing on his way to work, and died on August 15, the day the war ended, in the Kumage district in Yamaguchi Prefecture, the place to which Mr. Tanabe, the oldest son of the family, and other family members had evacuated.
Together with grandmother, survived by selling possessions
His personal account introduced at the beginning of this article would determine his career path going forward. Genbaku no Ko (‘Children of the A-bomb’) was adapted into two different movies around the same time, and Mr. Tanabe, a junior high-school student, helped the film crew by offering his services as a guide at the different shooting locations. With a serious expression, he said, “I watched as the film crew ate as much meat as they wanted, and I was drawn to that work.” He and his grandmother continued to live by selling their possessions such as land and rental properties.
He caught the attention of others because of Genbaku no Ko, but that also became a burden for him. He was asked to join a labor union campaign for “peace” and was used for the campaign’s benefit. People at his school would give him cold looks. No longer able to stand it, he went to a high school in Yamaguchi where his uncle had been living. He graduated from university while working in Tokyo and joined the Chugoku Shimbun’s department of news film production. In 1975, he launched a film production company in Hiroshima’s Naka Ward, but consistently avoided job offers involving the “atomic bombing” to maintain his silence about the issue.
“I do not want to be seen as being one of the survivors who consistently repeat their experiences or slogans proudly in television or newspaper interviews. I believe there are many survivors who feel the same way I do.” He also succinctly and harshly criticized the media’s attitude for its coverage of the atomic bombings.
He broke his silence on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the atomic bombings. When he learned that the Hiroshima City government’s testimony video project would feature Korean A-bomb survivors living in South Korea, he decided to take on the work. He believed that he was the most qualified person for the job due to his direct experience in the bombing. He had heartfelt conversations with rarely acknowledged Korean A-bomb survivors, caught between the two nations of Japan and South Korea, and recorded their feelings on film. By once again confronting the issue of the atomic bombing, he sensed that a vague idea growing in him was beginning to take shape.
“Reaching this age…”
The idea, derived from his origins as a person, was to create a permanent record of the cityscape where he was born and raised that had disappeared in the bombing as well as the remaining A-bomb Dome in digital format. After receiving notice that he would receive financing for this fiscal year from the Japan Arts Council, a special public corporation under Japan’s Ministry of Education, he began filming.
While trying to keep up with his young filming staff, he continued, “Reaching this age, one begins to consider how many more years one can continue working.” With a mixture of shyness and pride, he described the objective of his work, which he aims to create as “a compilation as a filmmaker,” in the following way.
“Above all, Sarugaku-cho was a place of human presence and warmth. With the latest technology, I want to restore not only the A-bomb Dome but the sights and sounds of Sarugaku-cho back then so I can convey what really happened that day. I want to leave behind an accurate record.”
“The A-bomb Dome and the vanished cityscape” is the title of the one-hour film. Filming is about to enter its key stage, with cooperation from former residents of Sarugaku-cho who survived the atomic bombing.
The End…
(Originally published on August 4, 1997)
“I was a second-year student at the National School at that time.” Masaaki Tanabe, 59, a filmmaker, wrote that in his personal account of his experience in the atomic bombing. His account is included in Genbaku no Ko (in English, ‘Children of the A-bomb’), a collection of children’s personal A-bombing accounts compiled in 1951 during the occupation of Japan by the United States, the nation that dropped the atomic bombs, and published as part of the Iwanami Bunko series. Amidst the green of spring, in May, Mr. Tanabe began filming his high-definition work at Peace Memorial Park. “A little to the left… full size… OK,” he shouted with vigor.
Wearing a cap to prevent sunburn, Mr. Tanabe, the director and producer, did not move for some time, with his visor turned to the subject of the filming, despite other staff already moving to the next shooting location. “Over there was the exact place my grandmother and I dug out rooftiles, with the soles of our feet burning from the blazing heat. We were ultimately unable to find any remains.” His birth home had been located within the grounds of the A-bomb Dome, now surrounded by fencing.
At the address “24 Sarugaku-cho,” his mother, Yaeko, 31 at the time, and younger brother, Koro, one year old, were killed in the atomic bombing. His father, Fumio, 38, a first lieutenant in the Japanese Army, experienced the atomic bombing on his way to work, and died on August 15, the day the war ended, in the Kumage district in Yamaguchi Prefecture, the place to which Mr. Tanabe, the oldest son of the family, and other family members had evacuated.
Together with grandmother, survived by selling possessions
His personal account introduced at the beginning of this article would determine his career path going forward. Genbaku no Ko (‘Children of the A-bomb’) was adapted into two different movies around the same time, and Mr. Tanabe, a junior high-school student, helped the film crew by offering his services as a guide at the different shooting locations. With a serious expression, he said, “I watched as the film crew ate as much meat as they wanted, and I was drawn to that work.” He and his grandmother continued to live by selling their possessions such as land and rental properties.
He caught the attention of others because of Genbaku no Ko, but that also became a burden for him. He was asked to join a labor union campaign for “peace” and was used for the campaign’s benefit. People at his school would give him cold looks. No longer able to stand it, he went to a high school in Yamaguchi where his uncle had been living. He graduated from university while working in Tokyo and joined the Chugoku Shimbun’s department of news film production. In 1975, he launched a film production company in Hiroshima’s Naka Ward, but consistently avoided job offers involving the “atomic bombing” to maintain his silence about the issue.
“I do not want to be seen as being one of the survivors who consistently repeat their experiences or slogans proudly in television or newspaper interviews. I believe there are many survivors who feel the same way I do.” He also succinctly and harshly criticized the media’s attitude for its coverage of the atomic bombings.
He broke his silence on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the atomic bombings. When he learned that the Hiroshima City government’s testimony video project would feature Korean A-bomb survivors living in South Korea, he decided to take on the work. He believed that he was the most qualified person for the job due to his direct experience in the bombing. He had heartfelt conversations with rarely acknowledged Korean A-bomb survivors, caught between the two nations of Japan and South Korea, and recorded their feelings on film. By once again confronting the issue of the atomic bombing, he sensed that a vague idea growing in him was beginning to take shape.
“Reaching this age…”
The idea, derived from his origins as a person, was to create a permanent record of the cityscape where he was born and raised that had disappeared in the bombing as well as the remaining A-bomb Dome in digital format. After receiving notice that he would receive financing for this fiscal year from the Japan Arts Council, a special public corporation under Japan’s Ministry of Education, he began filming.
While trying to keep up with his young filming staff, he continued, “Reaching this age, one begins to consider how many more years one can continue working.” With a mixture of shyness and pride, he described the objective of his work, which he aims to create as “a compilation as a filmmaker,” in the following way.
“Above all, Sarugaku-cho was a place of human presence and warmth. With the latest technology, I want to restore not only the A-bomb Dome but the sights and sounds of Sarugaku-cho back then so I can convey what really happened that day. I want to leave behind an accurate record.”
“The A-bomb Dome and the vanished cityscape” is the title of the one-hour film. Filming is about to enter its key stage, with cooperation from former residents of Sarugaku-cho who survived the atomic bombing.
The End…
(Originally published on August 4, 1997)
