Akira Kurosawa’s ‘Ikiru’: how death gives life purpose
Martin Heidegger’s philosophy and many existentialist philosophers like Jean-Paul Sartre and Soren Kierkegaard posited that confronting the inevitable reality of our death can help us experience life more authentically. In terms of the cinematic medium, this notion was found to be the most suitable analogue in Akira Kurosawa‘s 1952 drama, Ikiru.
Translated to English as “To Live”, Ikiru tells of Kanji Wanatabe, an ageing bureaucrat who had worked in the same tedious job for 30 years. Nearing retirement, Wanatabe is a widow, and his son and daughter-in-law seem only to care for him so that they can receive his pension and their inheritance upon his death.
That death suddenly arrives with more certainty when Wanatabe is suddenly diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer and is informed that he only has one year left to live. Rather than crumble under this tragic news, though, Wanatabe is inspired to begin a journey to find the real purpose and meaning behind his life, which has largely been wasted during his many years working under the Japanese bureaucracy.
The first half of Ikiru is dedicated to Wanatabe coming to terms with his impending mortality. Existential anxiety grips the ageing bureaucrat, although, as with the words of Heidegger, it’s the inevitable realisation of his death that serves as the catalyst for Wanatabe to abandon the superficial facets of his life and begin to seek the more profound truths of his existence.
Initially, as many of us might, Wanatabe attempts to find solace in hedonism, but in a nightclub, he quickly realises that such a solution is as superficial as the darkened governmental office in which he has spent so much wasted time. It’s by meeting a young and vibrant woman called Toyo that Wanatabe is inspired to spend his final days doing something meaningful.
Toyo had also worked at the governmental office with Wanatabe but had resigned. Spending more time with the seemingly happy young woman, Wanatabe eventually asks Toyo what her secret to happiness is and she tells him of her new job making toys, which makes her feel as though she is playing with all the children of Japan, a far cry from the oppressive quality of her former desk job.
Inspired by Toyo, Wanatabe decides to spend his final days reforming a desolate wasteland into a playground for children and quickly discovers a hidden joy that lay deep within him as a result of giving back to his community. However, it was only by confronting the inevitable reality of his death that Wanatabe is able to see what it is that really gives meaning and purpose to live.
The second half of the film concerns Wanatabe’s colleagues discussing his newfound passion for life in light of his recent death. They, too, have been inspired by his altruism and vow to live their own lives with dedication and spirit, but are quickly dispirited when they return to work at the governmental office.
In essence, in Ikiru, Kurosawa invites us to strip away the surface realities and facets of our lives so that we might access their deeper truths. It’s easy for us to become wrapped up in the minutiae of work and the allures of pleasure, but, as Wanatabe finds, what really matters is fostering a deep sense of kindness and altruism.
Indeed, one might find that something else is what gives one’s life purpose, but whatever it may be, it might only be realised with a fearless confrontation of our inevitable death.
