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The way the Japanese trio used digital instruments in the late ’70s and early ’80s not only wildly expanded the possibilities of conveying a kaleidoscope of emotion through sound-influencing some of the pioneers of techno, electro, and hip-hop along the way-but also flipped the script on “exotica.” The mid-twentieth-century American music style used instruments from East Asia, Africa, and the Caribbean to create a fetishized and appropriative sound that pandered to colonial stereotypes. And as a music artist, he was fresh from enjoying international acclaim, having found success as the keyboardist in the synth-pop group Yellow Magic Orchestra. He had the opportunity, rare for a film composer, to inhabit one of the lead characters’ heads and witness his turmoil from the inside. One of the reasons “The Seed and the Sower” is such a sonic-cinematic triumph is that Sakamoto was in a unique position to give voice to the intricately woven threads of emotion that connect the protagonists.
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In one five-minute track, Sakamoto exposes the many conflicting layers that make such a reveal so thrilling. To appreciate the impact of such a transition, it is worth distinguishing between the three distinct movements of the song: first, agitated digital keys and strings that score the attempted murder of Celliers second, the ominous yet hopeful middle section that speaks to the vulnerability of the prisoners during their breakout attempt and finally, an exuberant melody that blooms the moment Yonoi and Celliers set eyes on each other. When their eyes meet, the track undergoes a complete transformation, bursting into life like a time-lapse spring flower. As Celliers staggers into a clearing, carrying Lawrence in his arms like a small child, he comes face to face with Yonoi. It’s left to Sakamoto’s “The Seed and the Sower” to articulate what neither man can put into words. A physical attraction, yes, but more than that: a never-named mutual fascination with the other’s very being. There is something deeper at play that hangs in the air between the two characters. (“My past is my business,” snapped Celliers at one point during his trial.) Yonoi locked Celliers up for stealing food for the camp’s sick prisoners and wonders if he is an “evil spirit,” yet snuck him an expensive rug for his gravel-floored cell, which suggests he is concerned for Celliers’s comfort. The reason Celliers is in the POW camp in the first place is because Yonoi saved him from a firing squad something about Celliers’s defiant attitude stirred Yonoi to vouch for him. This quip scratches at the contradictions in the relationship between Celliers and Captain Yonoi. “It’s okay, everything’s all right,” gasps Celliers, as he hoists Lawrence over his shoulder. “Jack, the tube line doesn’t come up this far,” Lawrence wryly mumbles. Celliers frees him and says they’re getting out of there. A fellow officer in the British Army, Lawrence (Tom Conti) speaks fluent Japanese and often acts as a bridge between the powers that be and the prisoners in the camp. In the scene in question, Celliers finds the man he was calling out for tied to a post and delirious.
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The movie hinges on the complex ways in which these two men see each other. The POW camp is run by Captain Yonoi, an officer in the Imperial Japanese Army, portrayed by Sakamoto in his debut role as both an actor and film composer. The would-be escapee is Major Jack Celliers, a South African officer in the British Army, played by David Bowie. The film is set in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp in Java, Indonesia, during World War II, and was inspired by the books of a former prisoner who had endured life in such a camp. Much of what is communicated in director Nagisa Oshima’s 1983 Merry Christmas Mr. This is the middle section of Ryuichi Sakamoto’s “The Seed and the Sower.” It tells us danger is close, but there is tenderness to be found, too. Over and over, he calls out as loudly as he dares, “ Lawrence!”Ī haunted arpeggio atop a bed of synthesized strings underscores the delicacy of the situation. A man in army fatigues runs from an open-air cell with a rolled-up rug in one hand and a sword in the other, stolen from someone who just tried to kill him. In the blue moonlight of a humid December night, an escape is underway.