Oyster Factory (2015/Kazuhiro SODA/Japan-USA)
Opening Sequence
Now the camera is handheld onboard of a fisherman boat, looking in at an oyster rack approaching. It’s made of bamboos. Cut to a crane flying off of one of those racks. Face of the fisherman through the windshield of his driver cabin. The fisherman is walking on the bamboo rack without leash or safety gear, wearing a yellow vinyl overall finished with boots. Whip zoom on him crouching to untie one rope. Several shots of him retrieving the ropes.
Back on the boat, the hydrolic crane is pulling out of the water a bunch of ropes tied together, revealing clustered oysters hugging the ropes as the ensemble elevates in the sky, slowly moves over the deck and is promptly dropped into a rusty wire crate. Then slowly raised again in the air and violently dropped again to free the oysters tightly secured to the ropes. One last time dropped from high up in the same long take. A drop of mud splashed in the corner of the lens. Whip-zoom to the fisherman piloting the crane in the background to put the splash out of focus. He’s now approaching with a stick and starts beating the ropes to unleash the oysters left attached.
– It may splash, says the fisherman as he rakes his stick between the ropes hanging down.
Cut to another batch of ropes being pulled out of the sea in a similar fashion. Whip-zoom on the clusters of oysters covered in algae and mud, dripping down heavily, with the fisherman in the background. Once again he beats down the persistent oysters glued to the ropes, in close up, with the ropes in the foreground barring his face. He operates all this by himself, alone on the boat (the cameraman being an unparticipating companion). Cut to two static shots of the bay from higher ground and a trucking of a boat passing by, against the sound of waves lapping on the beach.
9 more quick shots taken from the boat approaching the harbor against the noise of an engine. The fisherman on the quay, tying up his boat to a mooring bollard. Opening credits on a black screen.
Origin of the
project
Companion piece :
Inland Sea (2018)
Alongside Oyster
Factory, which shooting only lasted 1 week out of the three
required, Kazuhiro SODA decided to continue to film the area, on a
whim, until his planned return to NewYork. This side project became a
documentary on the local population of the small harbor of Ushimado :
Inland Sea, released three years later. In this new film, we
meet again, in depth, two figures appearing in Oyster Factory ;
as well as the vernacular cycle of the local fish commerce.
Observational Film
#6
Since 2007, Kazuhiro
SODA makes « Observational Films » following a strict set
of rules of thumb, and Oyster Factory is the sixth of them.
Observation as mantra both for the filmmaker and the audience.
« Observation and Interpretation » are guiding his
framing; « Observation and Listening » are guiding his
directing. These rules he calls the « Ten Commandments of Observational Filmmaking » Interesting remarks about the making and post-production of a
guerilla-style documentary, such as « no research », « no
script », « shoot as long as possible », « no
narration », « use long takes »… These principles
are the customary routine of CCC (Contemporary Contemplative Cinema).
See the (Technical) Minimum Profile here
Hirano Oyster
Factory
Next to « Toyota
Seafood », there is a huddle of ancillary oyster factories
implanted in the harbor all assembled together around the Hirano
Oyster Factory, directed by Watanabe. They are perched up there on
the pier, between the sea – the Inland Sea – and the town –
Ushimado – in direct liaison between oysters and consummers. The
oyster farms are dispersed racks anchored in the bay, around the
Mouse Island. The boat comes and goes between the farms and the
harbor at harvest season. Docking next to the factories, the boat
empties its three metal crates of oysters forthwith into the wall of
the chucking room, where oysters are opened and reserved. Promptly
carried around in a bucket they are unloaded by the hundreds onto a
cart that wheels straigth to the nearby collective warehouse (because
they cannot be frozen),where all the neighbors work in unisson. They
are then transferred by truck to the Okayama Fishery Cooperative.
The cycle of
oysters’s life
Buying seeds.
Farming at sea. Harvesting. Chucking. Storing oysters in buckets with
frozen water bottles. Moving them to the cooperative. Cleaning the
workshop. Cleaning the buckets and water bottles. Cleaning the vinyl
aprons. Collecting and cleaning shells. Cleaning the mud. Cleaning
the crates. Cleaning the boat. Repeat.
Kazuhiro SODA
doesn’t film the cycle in its chronological order, but rather
accumulates daily footage, day after day, in situ. This disparate
aggregation of tasks and practices develops nonetheless into a mirror
of this local industry. And we piece together, in after thought, like
a mystery game, the process in the right order, after seeing it done
over and over, at different factories and on different days. True
observation puts the spectator in the pilot seat, engaging with the
natives and forming a portrait of each recurrent character, each at a
precise place on the chain.
Slow pace of daily
life
The ingenious
cameraman masterfully captures a monotonous labor with poignant
dexterity. He follows effortlessly in the footsteps of various
colourful characters, mingles with everybody, enters their homes…
His enticing camera, which records direct sound synchronously,
projects us inside an underestimated world, little known and
self-sufficient. Interspersed by « pillow shots » (à la
Yasujiro OZU) of still life, landscapes, building corners, abandonned
tools, the scenes and days unfold like a treasure trove of compelling
activities and genuine behaviors. One shot after another, the
vicissitudes of a millenary tradition manifest before our eyes at an
unhurried pace. The faces tell a tale of sudden mutation. A
microscopic metamorphosis, with each discerning minute,
transitionning old habits to reluctant new ones.
Work and Talk
People do not sit
down for an interview in « Observational Films »…
unlike with Errol Morris’s Interrotron, with a lot of talking
heads. Preferably, Kazuhiro SODA’s immersive style of documentary
catches off guard the people at work, while they are busy doing other
things. Busy hands : loose tongues. We might not get eye contact
all the time, but the conversation is more natural, unrestrained and
relaxed. Hollywood has the « Walk and Talk »
to show protagonists busy while delivering exposition dialogue.
« Observational Films » have « Work and Talk »
to capture the speech in its natural habitat, its ordinary context.
One of these lasts
3min 30sec, when the filmmaker questions Watanabe about the tsunami
and his move to Okayama prefecture, in Mushiage, as a nuclear
refugee. Watanabe washes the rusty crates full of mud, and shares
about his painful past. As one of the Chinese worker just quit,
Watanabe feels compassion for someone who is away from home, like
him.
Again with Watanabe,
another day, this « Work and Talk » long take reaches
5min of confessions as he and the cameraman walk around the truck.
Not only that, but
Kazuhiro SODA films extensive takes of the « action »,
whether they are talking or not, whether they are working or not. And
he keeps the down times in the final cut. These intermediary moments
without conscious activity, but where a lot happens : hidden
body language, meaningful pauses, suggestive faces, demonstrative
expressions…
Tsunami refugees
Watanabe, who is one
of the main character of this documentary, used to work in
aquaculture in Miyagi prefecture, before the 2011 Tsunami hit
Fukushima on this coastline. They had to move out because the
government declared their land restricted area, and the consumption
of oysters forbidden. From his own admission, he moved first and
foremost because his kids could not live in an irradiated zone. But
he’s not a « nuclear refugee », insists his boss, Mr
Hirano, he’s a « tsunami refugee ». This only
superficially removes the stigma. Watanabe was removing debris in
Miyagi. He moved to Mushiage (Okayama prefecture), not far away from
Ushimado. He’s now directing the Hirano factory, and will succeed
to the owner who is retiring.
In another scene we
learn that oysters seeds from Miyagi are banned in Okayama, because
of the rumors of nuclear radiations. Ironicaly, they buy them instead
from Hiroshima !
The workshop
contraption
This family factory,
partly mechanised, partly manual, is pretty ingenious. With the
simplest means. Fresh from the sea, the oysters collected are carried
through a motorised conveyor belt into the main room of the factory
built on a raised floor and split in two halves. In the middle of the
room stands high a double wall within which is stored the live shells
shut closed. Each wall, on either side, is pierced with trap doors to
catch the oysters pouring in from above. And a man can walk between
these walls to scather the oysters towards each hatch. The oysters
are picked up onto a counter, through the hatch, one by one, by the
workers who are seated on the raised floor. And underneath is another
motorised conveyor belt collecting the emptied shells, between the
two walls, dropped by a hole in the counter. Thus the course of the
oyster : in come the full shells, out come the empty shells.
These shells are then automatically cleaned up outside and evacuated
by trucks (probably recycled and sold).
Chucking Oysters
Oysters have sharp
shells. Workers wear thick gloves. Shells are muddy. Work is messy.
This is hard work.
Arduous and repetitious. Workers in this agrarian region are getting
old. The rural exodus of the youth depletes the workforce for local
businesses. The next generation hates this backbreaking job, and
prefers one of a salaryman. Mostly eldery female workers, they have
the skills to chuck oysters at a breakneck pace ! The rare
younger helping hands struggle to keep up. The eldery are kneeling on
the floor, Japanese-style. The youngsters are seated on their asses.
One hand picks up
an oyster, pivots it in the right direction (mouth to the palm). The
other hand plunges a pointy knife, or a hook, between the two
calcified valves. And with a twist of the wrist, it breaks open the
mollusc. The mantle is delicately but swiftly scraped and dumped into
a bucket. At the bottom of each bucket sits a frozen water bottle to
maintain a cool temperature. The empty shells are soon discarded
downstairs. And the reiterating operation begins all over.
« China is
coming. »
This decaying
workforce needs new blood. And the Japanese don’t want to do this
anymore. One employee, Watanabe, calls it a « hard, dirty and
dangerous work » , he later adds « People who come here
are kind of losers, aren’t they ? ». The next best thing
is to hire help from abroad, in this case, from China. And the local
community is not ready for this « invasion ». Japan,
being one of the most homogenous ethnicity in the world, is not
acquainted with foreign visitors, let alone labor force from their
arch enemy : China. They are afraid. One standbyer confides
« Chinese are terrible, they steal anything they see ! »
The neighboring city
has 200 Chinese workers. And there is a total of 10 in Ushimado.
However, the Hitano Oyster Factory has ever employed indigenous
workers, despite, is getting ready to accomodate two new Chinese
aids. On the calendar is noted « Saturday the 9th, China is
coming ». Not even « The Chinese workers are coming »,
but that deprecative metonymy…
At the factories
nextdoor, there are already a couple of Chinese expatriate working on
the line. The Chinese language is not subtitled, so the foreigners
stay at a distance, behind a language barrier. And with their
rudimentary Japanese, they hardly interact with the filmmaker or
others. Regardless of English.
More than a factory
This is an
idiosyncratic microcosm of Japanese society, with a dozen Japanese
figures surrounding half a dozen Chinese expatriate workers. This
multigenerational bunch spans all ages. From a toddler carried on her
mother’s back at work ; to young girls playing around the
facilities ; to teenager worker from China ; to young
adults, married, ready to take over the succession ; to older
men from the neighborhood ; to 65 year old bosses about to
retire ; to eldery workers on the line… Kazuhiro SODA’s
camera alternates the viewpoints, jumping from one person to the
next.
Assorted points of
view
Watanabe, father of
four girls, the nuclear refugee who empathizes with the Chinese
expatriates.
The Hirano family
old boss who is retiring, and hands his family business to Watanabe
Hirano junior
(salaryman) who would « never » succeed to his dad.
The bubbly
daughter-in-law of the Toyota factory who is interested in the world.
The Toyota factory
owner who has opinions on the state taxes on succession.
The A/C repairman
with racist views on Chinese immigrants.
The cameraman and
his wife, from NYC, who have seen the world outside of Japan.
Self-references
We find recurrent
themes that have been treated in previous « Observational
Films » :
LDP (Liberal
Democrtatic Party) political poster from Campaign (2007)
Mental health
problems (attributed to a Chinese quitter) from Mental (2008)
Feeding stray cats
from Peace (2010)
Nuclear meltdown
consequences from Campaign 2 (2013)
Shiro the cat, Kumi
and Wai-chan from Inland Sea (2018)
Contemporary
Contemplative Cinema documentaries
We could contrast
Oyster Factory with Frederick WISEMAN’s Belfast, Maine
(1999) where he films a mechanised line in a canned sardines factory.
Or compare it to Niklaus GEYRHALTER’s Our Daily Bread
(2005), a wordless documentary on agricultural industries in Europe.
With a succession of symetrical static shots filming the robotized
food collecting, calibrating, processing and conditioning. But
« Observational Films » are not from a cold surveillance
camera, and much more immersive and reactive to the workers being
filmed.
Crisis
Out of nowhere, when
the time for the new Chinese employees to arrive came, the shooting
of the documentary is interrupted by Hirano, the old boss. Seated
back to the camera at the counter, without stopping his oysters
chucking, unwavering, he utters these damning words. According to
him, the shooting may offend them and you never know what could
happen… You’d need to get their permissions first, and the
permission of the agency. Will the documentary stay at a stand
still ?
Comedic relief
The documentary is
peppered with touches of laughters – often the filmmaker’s own
infectious laugh.
An old lady asks for
the fish price, twice, with a puzzled look on her face because she
gets no answer, before realising she was asking the cameraman !
She then walks away in shame but also amused, followed by the
laughing filmmaker.
Another impromptu
scene : we see the chucking workers laugh without knowing what
is the fuss all about. Then a guy walks in from behind a wall,
approaching bent over, looking into a plastic tube, without a word.
« What are you doing ? » asks the filmmaker. As he
realises he’s being imitated, he bursts in laughter with everyone
else.
A long scene where
Watanabe and his wife pay for the prefab house bought in for the new
Chinese workers. Money goes from Watanabe’s hands, as he counts the
bills one by one, in stacks of tens, to his wife’s hands, who
counts again ten bills by stacks, and in the hands of the seller, who
also counts the bills by tens. Ultimately, the salesman counts the
number of stacks and counts again and counts again : 1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 6… Everyone, eyes on the stacks, notices there shouldn’t be a
7th stack. There is too much money ! Everybody laughs out loud
nervously.
The daughter-in-law
of the Toyota Seafood is interviewed while she is preparing a miso
soup for lunch. Pots and lids fall on the floor. The filmmaker
laughs. She asks « What is so amusing ? You’re not
going to use this ? » Concerned about coming out well on
screen, she asks « Am I doing OK ? » between each
question asked...
To the Chinese
workers, recently arrived, the filmmaker asks « Speak
English ? », then again in Japanese. But they reply « Yes.
No. » in a laugh.
The cat periodically
tries to come in the house of the filmmakers.
Shiro the cat and
the circadian rhythm
Kazuhiro SODA can’t
help but film cats when he sees them. And they stay in the final
film. On the seafront, there is a white cat with a bell, roaming
around, looking for food and petting. Everybody calls him « Shiro »
(white in Japanese). He opens the film. He’s the punctuation of
each new day passing. We see him at night, or in the morning, in
between two days of shooting. So every time we see the cat’s
frolicsomeness we know another day of shooting went by.
Repeat Viewing
The characters in
the documentary are not named on screen, but at one point or another
they stand out with a particular conversation or a gag. Therefore
their personality is imprint in our brains. And with a subsequent
viewing, it is easier to notice their presence in the background, or
in a crowd. Thus connecting different scenes together and tying the
relations, geographical and interpersonal, between all onscreen
characters.
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