It was in February 1897 that the Lumière Cinematograph, imported by Inabata, and the Vitascope, imported by Araki, were first introduced to Japanese audiences in Osaka. In March, another Vitascope was introduced in Tokyo by Arai & Co. and another Lumière Cinematograph in Yokohama by Yoshizawa & Co. But some controversy still surrounds the Yoshizawa’s introduction of the Cinematograph.

The confusion is due to the fact the route by which the projector was acquired is not clear in Yoshizawa’s case. For that reason, some have proposed that Yoshizawa’s Cinematograph was in fact leased from Inabata, and others have suggested the possibility that it was not an authentic Lumière Cinematograph.

However, manuscripts of the letters from Inabata to the Lumières were recently discovered. They proved that Inabata never supported the screenings of Yoshizawa, adding weight to the theory that the projector in question was not the Lumière Cinematograph.

This paper presents a hypothesis on the real identity of Yoshizawa’s Cinematograph. The author’s main point of focus is on the publication catalogue issued by Yoshizawa in 1900, which shows projectors manufactured by Yoshizawa. There is a testimony from Kenichi Kawaura, the owner of Yoshizawa & Co., stating that in the development of the domestic projector, “we used Lumière and Edison models as references.” This paper explores the possibility that one of them on the catalogue imitated an imported projector and that its original was the projector Yoshizawa presented as the “Lumière Cinematograph.”

This article examines the dialogue in Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest (1959) and discusses its linguistic dimensions, while shedding light on the contribution of screenwriter Ernest Lehman. Regarding Hitchcock films, due to the director’s insistence on “pure cinema,” critics have tended to focus on the visual aesthetics. On the contrary, the poetics of dialogue and the film language have traditionally received little attention. In recent years, however, as the concept of auteurism has been re-examined, more attention has been paid to the work of the screenwriters who worked on Hitchcock films. Therefore, in light of these contexts, this article examines the dialogue in North by Northwest and discusses linguistic issues found in it. In the film’s narrative, the plot of a spy thriller set against the backdrop of the Cold War and the plot of the self-formation of the main character, Roger Thornhill, take place simultaneously. And language is a key theme in the plot of the latter drama, which is developed throughout the film. By shifting the focus from “Hitchcock, pure cinema, and images” to “Lehman, dialogue, and language,” this article attempts to offer a new interpretation of the film.

In the film history there have been variations of ‘sound on disc’ systems, connecting gramophone and film projector to realize film with sound. This paper focuses on what is called in German-speaking countries as Tonbilder (Sound-Picture), which flourished between 1903 and early 1910s.

First, the process of creating this new medium is reviewed, with reference to the achievements of Oskar Mester, who is regarded as a pioneer of German cinema. After focusing on the key issue of ‘synchronisation’ between image and sound, the paper examines the survival status of Tonbilder. Referring to the collection of the German Film Institute and Film Museum (DFF), the paper moves on to discuss the subjects covered by this medium as well as the filming and editing techniques involved. Furthermore, based on examples of restoration work conducted by the author at the Filmarchiv Austria, specific problems associated with the combination of film and discs will be discussed.

Finally, after showing that the Tonbilder craze was so vigorous that it even temporarily outstripped the popularity of regular silent cinema, the paper explores the reasons for its sudden decline. This paper concludes that cinema took an important step forward as a unique medium, distinct from theatre, by relinquishing the ‘synchronised sound’ it had once acquired.

The purpose of this paper is to illuminate the role and significance of “collective production” within the JRP (Japan Realist Photographers Association) and to outline the specific direction of the “new photography movement” that the group advocated. To achieve this, this paper primarily focuses on the analysis of the photobook The Testimony of Nagasaki (1970).

Many of JRP’s collective productions were conducted at the branch level, with the themes often centered around issues within the local communities to which each branch belonged. As a result, JRP members, positioned as constituents sharing the same living space within the community, endeavored to engage with the concerns of the local residents. Such a mode of photography as “Involvement” explains one of the unique features of the JRP’s collective production. Moreover, the “collaborative” nature of production in the form of mutual interaction between the photographers and their subjects, as seen in The Testimony of Nagasaki, is another characteristic inherent to the JRP. It is within these practical aspects and approaches to collective production that JRP’s “new photography movement” aspired to open up possibilities for utilizing the camera as a means to advance society and promote liberation, aligning with their vision.

This study analyzes the function of a method known as fragmentation in Robert Bresson’s film Mouchette (1967). Fragmentation refers to a method of constructing a narrative through a series of close-up shots of space and body parts. The purpose of this paper is to clarify the function of this fragmentation in the complex relationship between image and narrative in Mouchette. For the purpose, first, I will examine Jacques Rancière’s argument that Bresson’s fragmentation is an extreme short-circuit of causality to demonstrate the inadequacy of Rancière’s argument through the analysis of the opening sequence of Mouchette. I will then present Gilles Deleuze’s argument that fragmentation, in fact, produces images pregnant with a multiplicity of potential connections and functions to break causal connections. After contrasting Rancière’s emphasis on the logic of narrative with Deleuze’s emphasis on the potentiality of images in terms of fragmentation, the function of fragmentation will be expanded upon in detail by analyzing the relationship between the shots in the opening sequence and the film’s overall narrative. Finally, I conclude that Bresson’s method of fragmentation constructs a complex network. In this network, shots whose meaning is initially ambiguous are organically connected to completely different shots, thereby creating meaning.

Research on the social meaning and role of portraits of Emperors and members of the Imperial Family has been conducted for many years, but the image of the prince and princesses remains a topic requiring futher investigation. Notably, when the Empress, who had previously been dressed in Japanese-style clothing even in public, began being dressed in Western-style clothing in 1886, images of the princess dressed in hakama (Japanese traditional clothing) appeared as if she were replacing the Empress. For example, when the crown prince’s marriage was celebrated, many paintings of the Imperial Family began to appear, and the princess was depicted in hakama playing the role of the daughter of the family. Furthermore, when the Russo-Japanese War broke out in the late 1930s, the princess was depicted serving her country in hakama. However, after she married a prince of the Imperial Family, photographs of her in Western-style clothing began to circulate. The Meiji period’s imperial princesses showed various faces in the media depending on their position in the imperial household. This paper clarifies how the princesses were represented in various media, and the different roles they played in contrast to the Empress in the Meiji era.

Since the 2012 exhibition Black and White Photography, “shadow” has become a new central theme in Ryudai Takano’s work, forming the works that we will refer to as the “Shadow Series”. With the aftermath of the Great East Japan earthquake, Takano began exploring the concept of “shadows”. In the exhibition Black and White Photography, he captured the reappearance of the “collapse” brought about by the earthquake through the photographs of “shadows” and the blurred images that look like “shadows”.

Later, Takano’s focus shifted to two physical “lacks” within “shadows”. In reality, “shadows” represent the “lack of light” and in the realm of negative film, “shadows” manifest as the “lack of silver”. These dual “lacks” became the cornerstone of the “Shadow Series” leading Takano to employ various techniques, from snapshots to installations and photograms, in his works.

While maintaining his commitment to the materiality of photography within the “Shadow Series”, Takano’s incorporation of mixed-media elements reflects the post-medium art movement. By rediscovering “shadows”, Takano reinvents the medium of photography. He weaves these dual physical “lacks” into his works, transforming the photography from a medium that always captures something to one in which something is perpetually absent.

This study analyzes three films featuring Shanghai within Joris Ivens and Marceline Loridan’s film series How Yukong Moved the Mountains (1976). It conducts a textual analysis based on filming-related documents, which include transcriptions of on-set audio recordings and reports on detailed filming activities and schedules, all of which are preserved within the Shanghai Archives. Through this analysis, the study uncovers the presence of performances in How Yukong Moved the Mountains, a collection hitherto categorized as documentary films. The primary objective is to bridge the apparent gap between the ostensibly objective documentary genre and the inherent performative elements that underlie the portrayal of events. Moreover, this research attempts to establish a nuanced understanding of the intricate interplay between these performances and the socio-political context of the time.

The study begins by examining documentary records to conduct a detailed analysis of specific scenes and the connections between various shots. The repetition of identical conversations in the audio recording transcripts serves as compelling evidence of deliberate staging and performance during the filming process. Additionally, it scrutinizes the phenomenon of self-presentation driven by self-awareness within the framework of state ideology, which constitutes the fundamental basis for the orchestrated performances captured on camera. Lastly, this paper examines the intricate relationship between the significant elements of performance within the documentary and the nuanced comprehension and depiction of ‘truth’ found within the distinctive social context of the Cultural Revolution.

Gallants is a film that refers to the history of kung fu cinema. It features aged actors, who are known for their key roles in 1970s kung fu films. In addition, the opening credits are reminiscent of Fist of Fury. In this way, this film is full of nostalgia for the 1970s. Concurrently with Gallants, other similar nostalgia films were made in Hong Kong. This paper will focus on the reference to the history in Gallants, considering such context. Interestingly, only four years after the release of Gallants, a similar attempt was made in Kung Fu Jungle. Kung Fu Jungle depicts a broader history than Gallants. Can Kung Fu Jungle, then, be positioned as an extension of the same endeavor as Gallants? This paper will review the previous discourses on the history of kung fu cinema and argue that the two films take different directions. I will then clarify the politics manifested in the bodies of the kung fu masters depicted in each film. Focusing on kung fu, we find that Gallants evokes pessimistic sentimentality, while Kung Fu Jungle is a film that demands active reading for preservation of Hong Kong culture.

Hollis Frampton published a seminal essay entitled “For a Metahistory of Film: Commonplace Notes and Hypotheses” in 1971. In this essay, Frampton reconstructs the relationship between photography and cinema through the framework of metahistory and presents the radical idea of the “infinite film,” which encompasses all frames that could potentially exist. The purpose of this paper is to reveal that Frampton saw the possibility of filmmaking oriented to the “infinite film,” while correctly grasping the problem of the totality inherent in it. The first section demonstrates how the “infinite film” is presented in the metahistory essay. The second section clarifies that the metahistory of film is justified through its medium-specificity and examines Frampton’s understanding of film by focusing on the term “appearance.” The third section discusses the actuality of the “infinite film.” Finally, I will argue that the difficulties faced by structural film accurately correspond to the impasse of reductionistic procedures made in the metahistory essay and clarify a part of Frampton’s thinking about filmmaking oriented toward the “infinite film.”

Kinoshita Keisuke’s film music tends to be preoccupied with skillful and effective use of melodies in melodrama. In Here’s to the Young Lady (1949) and The Tattered Wings (1955), however, there are scenes in which multiple melodies converge to create dissonance. Furthermore, although they are distinct characters, both films feature a male protagonist of the same name, ‘Ishizu Keizō.’ Moreover, an intertextual connection or continuity can be identified between the two films: In Here’s to the Young Lady, the narrative concludes with the protagonist departing Tokyo for his hometown, while The Tattered Wings opens with the protagonist returning to his hometown. The purpose of this paper is therefore to analyze these films intertextually in order to connect their music to the motif that runs through both works.

To achieve this, I will identify the shared motif of ‘men who loved and failed’ in the two films, and analyze the texts focusing on Kinoshita’s use of overlapping melodies. It will be argued that the excessive soundtracks sear into the textual fabric Keizō’s impulse to resist the narrative progression and foreground his desire to return to a lost idealized past. Through my analysis, I will conclude that the film music is linked to male desire in these two works and it leaves behind traces that are not absorbed in the signification of the films.

Víctor Erice’s El sol del membrillo (1992) provides an extreme manifestation of the state of audiovisual media news. On the other hand, a quince tree depicted in the painter’s garden is shown growing and eventually dying. Various sounds can be heard there. Although references have been made to the visual features of the quince, a discussion of the effects of sound has not been developed yet. Therefore, particular attention should be paid to two voices: the radio news voice and the painter’s song. This paper examines how a quince tree can be transformed by the integrated montage of images and voices, and subtitles. The purpose is to explore the significance of this transformation according to the audiovisual media. First, I refer to the short film produced before El sol del membrillo, and explore how the techniques extracted from the painter are developed audiovisually. Then, the final transform of the quince in the last scene is discussed, through a reflection on the film medium itself. In conclusion, the paper posits that to compensate audiovisual media that fails to function in reporting individual casualties, the transformation of quince in this film leads to a momentary redemption in the form of individual graves and mourning.