Review: Tokyo Trial (2017)

Tokyo Trial (2017)

Directed by: Pieter Verhoeff, Rob King | 100 minutes | drama | Actors: Marcel Hensema, Irrfan Khan, Paul Freeman, Jonathan Hyde, Stephen McHattie, Michael Ironside, Hadewych Minis, Porgy Franssen, William Hope, Tim Ahern

A year after the capitulation of the Japanese armed forces, the victorious countries decided, following the example of the Nuremberg Tribunal, to try Japanese war criminals from World War II. It became a protracted process, as the eleven judges struggled to agree on the legal meaning of the terms war and crime in the context of international law at the time. When the initially united group of judges was increasingly driven apart by their disagreement, a way out seemed further away than ever. A small group, including the Dutch Bert Röling, decided to distance itself from the rest, with the result that the final verdict was not shared by everyone. The penalties were therefore lighter than expected. Of the 28 suspects, seven were sentenced to death. The majority received prison terms of varying length. Three men went free.

As long as it took the gentlemen to successfully complete the extremely complicated legal process, the making of the film was just as complex. The idea for ‘Tokyo Trial’ came from the Japanese national broadcaster. It had to be a large, international production. Even the Japanese branch of Netflix got involved. In order to give the film an even greater international character, the help of several foreign co-producers was sought. That is how the Japanese ended up with the Dutch director Pieter Verhoeff, who was given the creative leadership of the whole.

But not all production hurdles had been taken by then. The war defeat is still sensitive in Japan after all these years. The producers there kept a firm finger on the narrative. Objective truth-finding was paramount. Verhoeff mainly wanted to tell a dramatized, cinematic story. At the instigation of the Japanese broadcaster, Canadian director Rob W. King was brought in to the project, focusing on the design and Verhoeff taking over the game direction. Ultimately that resulted in two versions of ‘Tokyo Trial’. The first is destined for Netflix, in the form of a four-part miniseries. The other, edited by Verhoeff with more freedom, with the silver screen as destination.

The movie, that’s what it’s all about. Where the series sticks to the facts, the film contrasts the imagination. That is interesting, because it hides emotion and, above all, tension. Although ‘Tokyo Trial’ retains a stiff solemnity, partly due to the decor, the anecdotal character and the predominantly gray acting company, the (geo)political game between the judges is very worthwhile. The perspective lies with the rational Dutchman Röling (Marcel Hensema), who of all judges is most caught between the different points of view. The fact that the choices he has to make are not easy shows how great the interests of the countries involved were. It’s in those scenes that ‘Tokyo Trial’ is at its best. The moments when Röling meets up with a German singer (played by Hadewych Minis) feel somewhat like filler.

The distinction between fact and fiction is further implemented by Verhoeff with the use of archive images. ‘Tokyo Trial’ switches back and forth between black and white and color. Real-life images of the trial are cut with fictitious close-ups of the acting judges. What is true and what is not is diffused. This allows the story to detach from the historical, objective events of the time. Questions about what war is exactly and what crimes are allowed in it take on a universal, subjective signature. The film casts its shadow on an earlier past, our colonial history, and at the same time on the present, a time in which globalized power politics is still the order of the day. Because that is what Verhoeff seems to be arguing here: Politics, and in a sense also ethics, are diametrically opposed to objectivity. Where the interests are great, (in)justice is involved.

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