Summer Lights (2016) - full transcript
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Yasué?
Could you sit in the chair
so I can frame the shot?
Is it ok for you?
Let's get a little closer.
There.
What do you think?
Perfect.
- Great.
- Let's do it.
- Call Mrs Takeda in.
- Ok.
Air-conditioning off?
Yes.
Welcome, Mrs Takeda.
Please take a seat.
Before we start,
we'll set up your microphone.
Fine.
Excuse me, may I?
Thank you.
Please make sure you look at me.
Not the camera.
I will.
Don't worry
if you stutter or make a mistake.
I'm sure I'll be fine.
We can do another take.
Right.
Mrs Takeda,
can you say something, please?
I don't know what to say!
That's fine.
I was just checking
the level of your voice.
- Ok for you?
- Perfect.
Rolling.
- Ready?
- Yes.
Let's begin.
First, could you describe
the general atmosphere
in the city
before the bomb was dropped?
For example,
what was your life like
before the explosion?
That summer was especially hot.
The air was thick,
suffocating.
Life was hard.
But, for some time,
we'd been under the impression
that the war was coming to an end.
We lived alone,
my mother, my sister and I.
My father had died
a few years earlier,
shortly after he was called up.
We would get up early
in the morning.
My mother worked from home,
sewing for neighbours.
In her free time,
she helped her sister
who had a farm in the country.
She wasn't paid any money,
but she brought vegetables back home.
Whenever she'd come back
from the country,
it was always
like a celebration for us.
We were so eager to see
what she'd brought back
that my sister Michiko and I,
would quickly run home.
At that time,
nobody had enough to eat.
Food was scarce.
How old were you then,
Mrs Takeda?
I was 14.
And your sister?
My sister Michiko was 20.
She was a nurse at a hospital.
She was very beautiful,
and she was always smiling.
If it hadn't been for the war,
all the boys would have
been after her.
She would've been married already.
Can you tell us what happened
the day of the bombing?
The public works site
where I worked and the hospital
where Michiko worked
were in the same direction,
so we walked part of the
way together.
I don't remember why,
but that morning,
we were quite happy,
as we walked along.
Given the climate at that time,
some thought it inappropiate
for us to laugh.
But it was the only way we could
cope with the hardships
of the time.
Michiko went off towards the hospital
and I carried on my way.
When I arrived,
I didn't even have time
to greet my friends.
There was a huge flash
of white light,
immediately followed by
a deafening noise.
It was so loud
it left your ears ringing.
Then everything went black.
I don't know
how much time went by.
The blast of the explosion
had thrown me to the ground.
Fortunately,
I was shielded by a building.
That was what saved me.
At the time I didn't realise
how lucky I was.
When I stood up,
I saw that in that split second,
the world had changed.
All around me,
houses had been flattened
just like houses of cards.
We could even see the mountains.
Before the explosion,
we couldn't see them from there.
People were moaning in pain.
Many schoolgirls
had been hit full on
by the explosion
and were lying all around me.
Some, their flesh raw,
were writhing in pain.
Others were completely burnt
and not moving at all.
Only a few of us were unharmed.
We were all petrified with shock.
I'm sure it only
lasted a short time,
but it felt like an eternity.
What could we do?
How could we help the injured?
I had to do something.
I had to find Michiko.
I set off immediately.
Michiko was a nurse.
She would know what to do.
Outside the hospital
it was terrible.
Crowds of injured people
kept pouring in,
but nothing could be done for them.
In the hospital courtyard,
they were laying them on the ground.
Doctors and nurses
were running in all directions,
but their efforts were in vain.
When I finally spotted Michiko,
I cried out her name.
She turned towards me
and ran down the corridor
full of injured people.
We hugged each other and cried.
Michiko had to stay at the hospital.
She asked me to go find Mother,
so she and I
could look for my friends
and try to help them.
So...
you left the hospital?
Yes.
What I saw on my way home
defies description.
It was so horrific.
The ground was strewn
with burnt bodies, living and dead.
There were burnt cows and horses
with swollen bellies.
All the houses and pylons
were flattened.
The river was blood red
from burnt people
who had jumped into the water
and drowned.
The further I went,
the worse it became.
People were trapped under beams.
They were shouting, "Help!"
for someone to come to their aid.
Others were dying, their heads black
and swollen like balloons.
In the faintest of voices,
they begged us
to bring them water.
Others walked aimlessly,
their arms outstretched,
wandering around like ghosts.
Ghosts.
They were virtually naked.
Their skin had peeled off.
Strips of skin hung off them.
All over their bodies and hands.
It was impossible
to tell men from women.
I turned around
and saw a man in a cart.
His stomach was split open.
It was black inside.
White liquid gushed
from that black hole.
Up until that morning,
all these people had been
leading normal lives.
Like never before,
the blood rushed to my head.
I could not accept
that someone had done this
to human beings.
I was only a child,
but I have never felt so angry,
before or since.
Never, ever.
In all my life.
Mrs Takeda,
would you like to take a break?
Would you like some water?
No, I'm fine.
We can continue.
Very well.
Did you manage to find your mother?
No, everything was in flames.
I couldn't go any further.
I was still far from home,
and I had to turn back
to escape the flames.
I joined the crowds
that were running from the fire,
just like me.
I can't count all the people
I left behind to die,
despite their pleas for help.
Many fell down along the way,
and died on the roadside.
By the time I reached
my aunt's house, it was very late.
Sadly, my mother wasn't there.
Over the next few days,
we hoped in vain
that my mother
would come back to us.
I was very distressed,
so my aunt offered
to help me find my mother.
A few days later,
we set off together
towards the city centre.
The city was completely destroyed.
There was nothing but ash
everywhere,
and no trace whatsoever
of my mother.
To cheer me up,
my aunt told me she was sure
my mother was alive.
She said she'd probably
taken refuge somewhere,
and would come back to us.
She wanted to make me feel better.
She wrote a note saying
we were at her house
and that we were fine.
She stuck it
to a piece of charred wood.
The days went by,
but my mother
never came back to us.
We never found her body
or her bones.
We couldn't give her
a proper funeral.
When did you see your sister again?
After leaving the note
for my mother,
we went to see my sister
at the hospital.
We found Michiko hard at work.
She looked exhausted.
She went tirelessly
from one injured person to another.
When I told her
Mother had disappeared,
that she wasn't at our house
or at our aunt's,
she didn't cry.
She asked us to leave,
saying she didn't have time,
she had to get right back to work.
She said she would come to us
as soon as the situation
was under control
and she could leave the hospital.
Eventually,
Michiko came back to us,
one month later.
She was so exhausted.
She was terribly gaunt.
We could see on her face
how much she'd been affected
by what she'd gone through
as she cared for the dying.
During the first few days,
many of the injured died.
But then,
something strange began to happen.
Some who were recovering
and others who appeared
to have survived unharmed,
began to develop a strange illness.
Their hair fell out.
They lost a lot of weight.
Their skin broke out
in purple blotches.
And they died,
as if from exhaustion.
We began calling it
the A-bomb disease.
Obviously, I was very happy
when Michiko came home.
But shortly after she arrived
at my aunt's house,
Michiko asked
if she could rest a little.
A bit later,
I went to wake her for dinner.
She was in a deep sleep.
I knelt down by her side,
not sure whether to let her sleep
or wake her.
I didn't know what to do.
I put my hand on her head
and stroked her.
A big clump of hair came out...
in my hand.
Michiko woke up.
She turned her face
to look at me.
She took my hand in hers
and she smiled at me.
She asked me
not to cry.
But I could not stop crying.
So she gently dried the tears
that were falling down my cheeks.
Michiko was very brave
right to the very end.
She never complained.
As the days went by,
her pain grew increasingly intense
and became unbearable.
I felt so helpless.
All I could do
was wipe her forehead
with a damp towel
and stay by her side,
holding her hand.
Then one day, in her sleep,
Michiko died.
In spite of everything,
life had to carry on.
But I have not been able to forget
for one second
the hell we went through.
Mrs Takeda,
thank you
for your precious testimony.
You know, I have done all I can
to escape the bomb.
When I was 18,
I left Hiroshima
and settled in Tokyo.
I wanted to forget the bomb,
erase it from my memory.
For a long time,
I told no one I was a survivor.
Now all I can do is talk about it.
It's my way of fighting back.
You're very brave.
Summer Lights
Could you help them tidy up?
Just one thing.
The producer called.
He wants to see a rough cut
as soon as possible.
He's booked a cutting room
for Monday.
Monday's no good.
I'll show it to him
as soon as it's ready.
Don't blame me,
I'm just the messenger.
Yeah, I know.
I'm going for some fresh air.
I'll call him.
Then I'll head
straight back to the hotel.
What's the plan
for this afternoon?
Philippe's shooting without me.
We'll do the night shots together.
Don't stay up too late,
we've got an early flight tomorrow.
It won't take long.
See you later.
Eric, hi.
I got your message.
I'm just calling to say
there's no need to rush
post-production.
We won't make Monday.
Don't bother bringing in an editor.
Ok?
Bye.
Excuse me,
do you understand
Japanese?
I am Japanese.
Sorry!
You were speaking a foreign language,
so I assumed...
I live in France, in Paris.
I've lived there 20 years.
Have you come back to visit family?
No, for work.
If you don't mind me asking,
what do you do?
I'm a filmmaker.
Movies!
I love movies!
I don't make movies.
I make television documentaries.
Documentaries?
I'm making one about
the 70th anniversary of the bombing
for French television.
I just interviewed a survivor.
It was tough.
So much suffering...
Were you not aware
of what happened here?
Yes, of course I was.
At least I thought I was.
So that's why you came here.
You needed some time alone.
And next thing you know,
I turn up
and pester you with my
silly questions!
I don't mind.
I'm glad to hear it.
- Are you from Hiroshima?
- Yes, I was born and raised here.
My accent gives me away!
Yes, a bit.
I imagine I must seem naĂŻve to you.
You know everything that happened.
You're mistaken.
It's extremely difficult to fathom
what happened here.
Only with time
do we slowly begin
to perceive
what had previously
been invisible to us.
For example?
Come with me.
I'll show you.
As they tried to flee the fire
after the explosion,
thousands of injured people
drowned here.
The river swallowed their bodies.
They were trapped in the silt.
For many years,
we would see,
at low tide,
an old woman
searching the riverbanks.
She would collect
bits of bone or clothing
that had been washed up
by the tides.
Even those among us
who have already died
resist, in their own way,
their inevitable disappearance.
You know a lot.
Don't let appearances fool you.
For example,
I spend time
in Peace Memorial Park
because this place feels
very alive to me.
Alive?
Alive...
To tell you the truth,
these stories are difficult
for me to take in.
You're not alone.
We all find them difficult
to take in.
To give you an example,
over there
are the ashes
of 70,000 victims of the bomb.
But over there,
on the banks of the river,
the local children all fish together.
In the evenings,
young musicians play gleefully
and drink beer.
Seeing them enjoying themselves,
we can feel
life reasserting itself
among the ruins.
Life does that, whether or not
we keep wallowing in sadness
or refuse to accept it.
Once we make up our mind,
all we have to do
is open our eyes
and everything is there to be seen.
Let's go get some okonomiyaki!
It'll do you good
and stop me talking so much.
That's kind of you, but I have
to meet my crew at the hotel.
Do you know what okonomiyaki is?
Everyone does!
But you haven't tried it.
That's true.
I haven't had time.
You may never come here again,
and you won't find it in Paris.
After lunch,
you can go meet your crew
at the hotel.
Besides, you have to eat something.
True, but...
You're very persuasive!
I don't know what you study,
but I suggest you go into business
or politics.
Is that a yes?
That's a yes.
Do you know a restaurant?
We'll find one when we get there.
You'll have to lead the way.
I don't know my way around the city.
With great pleasure!
Look!
Uniforms?
I hated them when I was little.
Aren't you nostalgic
for your school days?
Not at all!
I had to leave school early
in order to train as a nurse.
In the end,
I quite liked nurse training.
But our white coats
weren't as stylish
as the school uniforms.
The schoolgirls were
far more fashionable than we were!
You talk as if you were an old woman.
I am an old woman!
An old woman
who is as young as a student.
A student of business
or political science!
Those look delicious!
- Shall we try one?
- They're for tea ceremonies!
So what?
You can't buy these
like you would any ordinary pastries!
You're so old-fashioned!
You talk to a stranger
on the street...
but when it comes to cakes or clothes,
you're old school.
Clothes?
What's wrong with my clothes?
They're a bit retro for your age.
It's just a yukata.
Don't you like it?
Please don't take it badly.
It suits you.
It's just so traditional.
So you don't like my yukata!
Don't be offended.
How about this?
I'm not sure.
It's lovely...
It would suit me!
It's perfect,
if you want to stand out.
I don't really care to stand out.
This one, then!
I'm not sure it's any better.
I'll try it on.
It'll make me look Parisian!
It's always best
to choose a busy restaurant.
Very true.
Welcome!
Shall we sit here?
- The menu.
- Thank you.
Water!
- Here.
- I know what I want.
Looks delicious!
What'll it be?
I'll have a regular.
Me too, with lots of cabbage!
Coming right up.
And a beer, please.
One beer!
Thank you.
That's enough, thank you.
Let me serve you.
- Let me serve you.
- Be my guest.
Thank you.
Cheers!
Is that bonito fish?
Yes, dried and ground.
That's right.
Nobody ever used to put noodles
in okonomiyaki.
No, they didn't.
Just vegetables.
We used to eat a lot of vegetables
to fill us up.
Back then, there was no food.
No meat, no eggs, obviously.
You mean during
the Second World War?
That's right.
We ate all the vegetables
we could get our hands on.
It was terrible.
Really awful.
We ate grass to survive.
We even ate weeds.
Now that we live
in times of peace,
nobody remembers
the horrors of the war.
We did what we could to survive.
And we're still here.
People your age don't know
what we went through during the war.
You can listen to people's stories
and try to imagine it,
then forget what you just learned.
Boss, shall I clear the table?
Lost in your thoughts?
Somewhat.
Before the bomb,
there were many houses
where the park is now.
Over on that side
was my grandfather's house
where my parents lived.
The bomb...
was supposed to drop right here
where we're standing.
But...
it veered slightly off-course.
It struck behind
that building over there.
Anyway,
a few metres one way or the other
makes no difference for
houses made of wood.
They all burst into flame
and burnt to the ground.
Very few people who lived here
managed to survive.
Do you know
what happened to the survivors?
No.
Since they had nowhere to go,
they came back
to live amongst the ruins.
They used the debris
as best they could
to build temporary shelters.
You can't imagine
what they went through
to rebuild their lives.
For instance,
one day,
it was decided that the whole area
would be demolished
in order to build a memorial park.
Some people protested.
Others refused to leave.
But their efforts were in vain.
The shacks were pulled down,
one by one.
Those who lived in them
were evicted,
one by one.
But today,
their story has been forgotten.
No one mentions it.
Come.
Let's go.
A documentary should be made
about this.
It would be moving.
But no channel would want it.
In France, nobody gives a damn
about Hiroshima.
There's a programme every so often,
to clear our conscience.
Perhaps this is a silly idea,
but why don't you make a film?
On your own, without television.
Because films are made
for people to watch them.
Otherwise it's futile.
You've come all the way
to Hiroshima
to interview survivors.
That's not futile.
To be honest,
I've always dreamt of making films.
I even went to film school in Paris.
Actually,
it was also an excuse
to get away and leave Japan.
As it turns out,
I've never made a film.
I've written several scripts.
But no producer
has ever been interested in them.
When my parents quit
sending me money,
I could either return to Japan
or work in television.
It was meant to be temporary,
but I'm still doing it.
Do you have children?
Why do you ask?
I don't know.
It just occurred to me.
No, I don't have any children.
You're not married?
No, I'm not.
How very sad.
Sad?
You know,
it's different in France.
People can live together
without being married.
Even if they have children.
How very unusual!
Maybe it is to you.
In Japan,
the most important thing
is to follow customs and conventions.
Love doesn't come into it.
Why do you say that?
Because it's true!
Are you sure of that?
Perhaps.
I don't know.
I always used to blame everything
on everyone else.
Of course
I was partly responsible.
I'm afraid I haven't changed much.
I'm still running away.
Perhaps the only thing
I've learnt as I've gotten older
is that it's hard to know
when to let something go and move on.
Come on!
I can't keep up.
It's hard.
Wait...
Slow down a bit.
We'll miss the train!
Train?
What train?
I'm too old to run so far.
Hurry up!
Where are we going?
You can't do that!
- Hurry up!
- What're you doing?
Sorry!
Come on!
You didn't need to do all that.
We could've bought tickets.
We don't even know
where we're going.
I do.
We're going to the seaside.
- The seaside?
- Yes.
If I'd asked you to come with me,
you'd have said no.
Perhaps, but why all the running?
I'm too old.
You're not so old.
You seem very youthful,
for someone
who could be my father.
You know what?
I've never seen the sea.
Hiroshima is on the coast!
I know,
but the seaside is inaccessible.
There are nothing
but factories over there.
There isn't much of a coastline.
Besides, the rare times
my family and I left the city,
we went to the countryside.
As odd as it may seem,
I've never been to the sea.
How beautiful!
Come on!
What're you catching?
Fish.
Wow!
You caught all those?
Yes.
Fantastic!
Very impressive!
You must be a proud little boy.
I'm not little!
I'm eight.
Of course.
Eight is a very grown-up age.
What's your name?
Yuji.
And my grandpa's name is...
What's your name again?
Aoki.
I know that.
My last name is Aoki too.
What's your first name?
Etsuro.
That's it, Etsuro.
Etsuro Aoki.
Pleased to meet you, Mr Aoki.
I'm Akihiro Hatamoto.
Let's not stand on ceremony.
May I call you by your first name?
Of course.
Very well, Akihiro.
Pleased to meet you.
Pleased to meet you, Mr Etsuro.
I'm Michiko.
- Michiko Takeda.
- Pleased to meet you.
Michiko Takeda?
Michiko Takeda?
The hibakusha
I interviewed this morning...
Grandpa?
What's a hibakusha?
The hibakusha are survivors
of the atomic bomb.
That's right.
Her sister's name was...
The same as mine?
Yuji, can you teach me to fish?
If you like.
To cast your line out
as far as you can,
lean back, lunge forward and...
Cast it out there forcefully,
then release.
Like this?
Hang on.
It's caught on your skirt.
It's ok now.
Cast the line.
Not bad!
I've got a bite!
It's huge!
Mr Etsuro!
Please help.
What a surprise!
- It's huge!
- It sure is!
Can I grab it?
Think you can?
The biggest fish
in the Inland Sea!
We'll make sashimi with it.
We'll eat so much
we'll be big as sumo wrestlers!
We could grill it on the barbeque.
Good idea!
Shall we have a barbeque, then?
All of us, together?
- I'd love that.
- You would?
Then let's do it.
We wouldn't want to impose.
It's no problem.
Is it, Michiko?
I would be delighted, Mr Etsuro.
I'm getting hungry!
So am I!
A barbecue it is, then?
Shall we go?
Can I help?
We'll clear up and head home.
I'll take this.
It's this way.
I'll take the bucket for you.
Must be lovely,
living by the sea.
Yeah, it's great.
Where do you live?
In France.
What do you do?
Me?
Yeah.
- I work.
- Doing what?
I work in TV.
- I love TV.
- Do you?
Do you watch every day?
Grandpa doesn't want me
to watch too much.
A little bit is ok!
- Do you like cartoons?
- Yeah.
What cartoons do you have?
In France?
A long time ago
we had "Oliver and Benji".
What about now?
- Here are the plates.
- Go get them.
Thank you.
Where are your parents?
My parents?
My mother...
Aubergines.
My mother's in Tokyo.
I don't know where my father is.
You don't know?
- Don't you live with him?
- No.
Vegetables...
Yuji, will your mother
come for the holidays?
My mother...
I don't know.
You don't know?
And here's our catch!
- Shall we cook it all?
- If you like.
Let's have a toast.
Beer, Michiko?
Just a drop!
A drop for me too.
No, not for you.
Want some soda?
A speech, Michiko?
A spee...
- You then, Mr Aoki?
- Me?
In that case...
Thank you very much for coming.
Thank you for inviting us.
It's just a modest party,
but I hope we enjoy ourselves.
Cheers!
Will you put it on the grill?
There are loads of vegetables.
I have to pee.
I'll have some beer.
I'm thirsty.
Yuji is a wonderful boy.
He sure is.
When Yuji came to live with me,
I was so very pleased.
He loved it here right away.
He loves the sea.
Yuji told me
he doesn't live with his mother.
His mother was bored here.
She hated this village
and this house.
She left for Tokyo
as soon as she could.
She set out seeking adventure.
I suppose you could say that.
Unfortunately,
the adventure was short-lived.
She met Yuji's father,
but he left her
before Yuji was born.
She managed to look after him
on her own
for the first few years.
Anyway,
she worked in a nightclub...
Yuji, don't stand there on your own.
Aren't you forgetting something?
- Today is Obon.
- The Festival of the Ancestors!
Are you coming, Michiko?
Yes, I'll come!
- You too, Akihiro.
- Ok, let's go.
We'll go to the festival later.
- First, fetch your sparklers.
- Good idea.
Have you found them?
Any luck?
Here they are.
You have so many!
Can you light mine?
- Can we draw in the air?
- We sure can.
Let's sign to the boats.
S.O.S.
Help!
Let's sign to the islands.
Here.
It's gone out.
I lose.
Me, too.
Mr Etsuro...
Only normal!
I'm the eldest.
It's sad,
like a life fading away.
All together!
One, two...
Go on.
Here they go.
Which one of us will win?
Go on!
We're all at the same level.
Here they go.
How beautiful!
So very tiny!
What a lovely sound.
Brings back sweet memories.
So beautiful!
Mine's gone out.
Shall we go to the festival?
Yes, let's go!
The Festival of the Ancestors!
Shall we dance?
Good idea!
I can't dance.
I'm sure Mr Etsuro can show you.
Of course.
Really?
- Have you learnt the steps?
- No.
Here you are.
Juice for you.
Sake for us.
Are you sure?
The festival was great.
I'm exhausted.
Let me serve you.
Here you are.
Thank you.
Yuji, a toast?
Cheers!
This is good.
My turn!
Are you up for it?
The guitar!
Wow!
Great!
What a clown!
Well done!
That was great!
I aced it.
Ah, Michiko!
And now,
ladies and gentlemen,
here's what you've all
been waiting for.
Thank you.
For her unrivalled beauty
and inimitable talent,
she is famous all over the country.
She is with us here tonight,
for you.
Just for you, only for you,
especially for you.
Tonight, Miss Michiko will sing
a classical Japanese song.
Ladies and gentlemen,
please give her a warm welcome.
Happily!
I have waited for love
And I am still waiting
Inconsolable, I wilt
Like a night flower
Tonight, even the moon
Does not appear
Darkness falls over the river
Only one star shines
And the night flower
Wilts and fades away
Tonight, even the wind
Seems to moan
How beautiful!
- Need a hand?
- No, thank you.
You seem preoccupied.
My crew called me
several times.
I must return to Tokyo
tomorrow morning.
I have a flight to Paris.
I must go back to Hiroshima
as soon as possible.
Don't worry about your crew.
They can manage.
Call them tomorrow
to put their minds at ease.
Michiko...
thank you.
What for?
Everything.
You have to go now, don't you?
Good morning!
Good morning?
Morning!
Daytime already...
Where's Michiko?
Michiko?
She left last night,
while you were asleep.
She said goodbye.
Why did she go?
It's kind of hard to explain.
Michiko is a bit like a ghost.
And ghosts
can appear and disappear anytime.
Do you understand?
Is that true, Grandpa?
Yes.
People go to Obon
with their families.
They eat together.
They sing songs.
They dance together.
It's a day when ghosts
can visit their families.
But Michiko isn't part of my family.
Are you sure?
Perhaps sometimes,
you can make your own family.
What do you think?
I hope so, anyway.
Shall we have some breakfast?
Shall we eat?
Are you hungry?
Let's go.
Akihiro, if you want a shower,
I'll give you a towel.
Thank you.
You can have a shave, too.
English subtitles by Sionann O'Neill