Manga no rekkoku rikugun: A strange, dusty artifact

Is this thing worth your time?

If you have a weird itch to see how early propaganda and visual storytelling collide, maybe. If you want a movie with a plot that actually moves, you should probably just watch Our Dancing Daughters instead. This is for the folks who like digging through film archives on a rainy Tuesday.

The whole thing feels a bit brittle, like the celluloid might snap if you look at it too hard. It is not trying to be smooth.

The vibe

There is something about the way these frames are put together that feels… stuck. Like the movie is trying to be a comic book but got lost halfway through. Some of the character movements are so stiff I wondered if the actors were just tired or if it was a stylistic choice that aged like milk. 🥛

I found myself staring at the background more than the actual action. The set design has this odd, empty feeling, like the producers forgot to hire enough people to fill the frame. It’s quiet in a way that feels unintentional.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Manga no rekkoku rikugun (1932) through its definitive frames.

Odd little things

• There is a scene near the middle where a character just stands by a fence for what felt like ten minutes. Why? I still don't know.
• The lighting is either blindingly white or deep shadow, with almost no middle ground.
• The way they transition between shots is jarring, like someone was using a pair of rusty scissors in the editing room.

It reminded me a bit of the frantic energy in Roughest Africa, but without the sense of humor. This movie takes its own stiffness very seriously. That is usually where the trouble starts.

I kept waiting for a moment of human warmth to break through the rigid structure. It rarely happens. Maybe that is the point? Maybe it’s a critique of military life, or maybe it’s just a clunky production. Hard to tell.

Sometimes, the film just stops. It doesn't transition to the next scene; it just drops the current one and picks up something else entirely. It feels like flipping through a sketchbook where half the pages were torn out by a toddler. 🎨

I don't think I'll watch it again, but I'm glad I saw it once. It’s a messy, uneven artifact that feels like it shouldn't exist in the same world as polished cinema. Sometimes that is enough to keep me interested for an hour or so.

Anyway, I need a coffee. My brain feels like it’s been through a blender.