All language subtitles for Anatahan -La saga de Anatahan Josef von Sternberg - 1958 - VO

Nineteen days out of Yokohama, we were
practically drifting toward Saipan at

knots an hour.

The convoy consisted of five old Bonita
vessels.

Our engines were in poor shape. We
carried badly needed supplies toward

outposts. We were fishermen, proud to be
drafted into service, and had two

soldiers posted on each boat. No need
for more, we thought.

We were not prepared for defeat.

Who is?

The lead boat, the Heskimeru, was
captained by an old salt who knew

about this watery arena.

His maps showed some 2 ,000 islands,
like sprinkled crumbs on a vast surface.

We were now passing the Mariana
Archipelago.

Once it had belonged to Spain, then to
Germany, and finally to Japan, and we

intended to keep it.

This tropical world was a geological
joke of coral and volcano.

Some islands lasted.

Some disappeared.

Some were inhabited.

Others were not.

Who'd want to live there anyway?

This giant body of water and all that
was in it was ours. Our belief in

was unshakable.

We had stopped looking at the stepping
stones that paraded by.

They were of no interest. We wanted to
return home.

We now sighted Anatahan, a jungle rock
that stood high out of the sleeping

waters. So it was duly recorded in the
log, six in the morning, June the 12th,

1944, the fourth year of a war to which
we had dedicated our lives like

children, playing a game without vision
or foresight.

Four bells and our chief cook and bottle
washer appeared promptly with Asameshi,

breakfast for the skipper.

His American sailor's hat was a reminder
of a defeated enemy ship.

At first, we thought it was one of our
own

planes.

The barren map of the world makes no
note of where misfortune strikes.

We went down fast.

Few survived.

The Mariana Trench, over which we swam
ashore, was over 35 ,000 feet deep.

The fiery center of the earth had blown
this rock of Anotahan a long way from

the ocean floor.

How we got ashore, no one remembered. We
were dumped like garbage on a hot

coast, left to rot.

The change from a human being with
dignity to a helpless worm.

takes but a second.

A merciful narcosis kept us from
suffering too much.

One of the men had not only saved his
hide, but accomplished the heroic feat

bringing a machine gun ashore.

A warrant officer with a long service
record, he was the only one who knew

to do. To defend this island for a
couple of months was not a difficult

thought. He knew the enemy.

and he knew the Imperial Navy would not
permit us to stay abandoned very long.

Yes, we had picked the deepest part of
the Pacific Ocean, deep and solemn.

And we were to be here for seven long
years, and little did we know that the

enemy was not in planes overhead, nor
was it the lack of food, the lack of

and medicine.

nor the venomous plants that hemmed us
in.

How could we know that we had brought
the enemy with us?

In our own bodies, an enemy that would
attack without notice.

One of our men had spotted a deserted
village.

This was good news after many weeks of
hardship.

And so we entered the twisting, haunted
labyrinth of an unfamiliar jungle, a

beautiful but vicious world from which
many of us never returned.

FIGHT!

What sort of a Japanese was this?

His name was Kusakabe.

Said he lived alone on the island.

The others had left when the war
started.

He'd been plantation foreman, exported
copra.

But the jungle had taken over.

An unfriendly man.

Unfriendly to us and unfriendly to
himself.

Imagine living on an island like this by
choice, thousands of miles from

nowhere.

how we met Keiko.

At first, she was only another fellow
human being stranded on this

pinpoint on the map.

Then she was to become a female to us.

And finally, a woman.

The only woman on Earth.

stayed empty and remote.

We lost track of time. The rains had
started.

They seemed never to end.

We built boats, toy boats to carry us
home on the wings of our longing.

This lonely island was our whole world.
We went to sleep at night and dreamt of

home. Each morning, we were back on
Anatahan.

Like a rare bird of the wet jungle, we
caught an occasional glimpse of Keiko.

Some of us, sooner than the others,
longed for something more than bread

And we watched her.

And we watched each other.

The rain stopped.

Nothing lasts forever, though the waves
of the ocean lasted long.

First thing we did, when the hot rays of
the sun came again, was to build a

Shinto shrine to speed our prayers.

Most of us believed in Shintoism. There
were two Christians, four Buddhists,

others believed only in Japan.

We extracted salt from the sea, hunted
lizard and bat, found wild potatoes,

lived on food that pigs would have
rejected.

But best of all, we found a way of
making fire.

We had sunk to the level of prehistoric
man, but our progress was not slow.

We achieved in weeks what the caveman
had taken centuries to accomplish.

And so we faced our new life, halfway
between Japan and New Guinea on a

sea lane, 1 ,500 miles from the
Philippines, some 16 degrees above the

resigned to wait.

The first typhoon struck us with an
unjust fury.

What had we done to reap all this? Why
did man and nature conspire to make us

helpless? The rocks that were so
formidable when we crawled ashore were

now in a giant sea.

It raged for three days.

The elements are cruel.

To the winds and to the sea, man and his
problems is as nothing.

The typhoon pounded at us.

The ocean wanted to wipe us out.

This island rock that was anchored
firmly to the bottom of the deep sea

to tear loose and join the storm.

One year on Anatahan, this was our home
now. Three miles long, one mile wide,

most of it impenetrable. We stood guard
in turns to wait for our navy to come.

It never came.

For the enemy to come. He never came.

Nothing came but the waves.

The tides lifted and the tides fell.

We now took another step away from
prehistoric man.

We had found empty beer bottles, and now
we found a way of filling them with

coconut wine.

If we drank quickly before it turned to
vinegar, it made us forget where we were

and who we were.

We were scolded, of course, but since
when has alcoholism been cured by

scolding?

Who are you combing your hair for?

For you, naturally.

Was she combing it for him?

Takahashi was the first one to break the
social ice.

He brought a peace offering.

More shells for the wife, as if she
needed them.

At that time, we still thought of a man
and wife, and...

We had not yet become savages.

The difference between a child and a
grown -up is in the way the brain is in

control of the emotions.

Kusakabe objected to anyone paying
attention to Keiko. That was easy to

diagnose. More difficult to understand
was why he was so antagonistic to us and

to himself.

Our leader, the boss of the island, that
is,

boss for a while, was not opposed to a
display of his authority.

Some men are drunk on wine, some are
drunk on power.

So far, all these things that happened
to us on Anatahan were very small.

Our life now consisted of nothing but
trifles. How were we to know what was

important and what trifle was not?

She was a pretty woman.

She was a Japanese woman, trained to
obedience.

When she was young, she followed her
father, never dreamt of walking at his

side. When she married, she walked
behind her husband.

Obedience to a husband is considered to
be the prime virtue of Japanese

womanhood.

Of the autumn equinox is the time for
the Ohigan Festival, when we pay respect

to our ancestors.

Our thoughts then go from them to our
family.

The word Higan means the other shore.

It is taken from the Buddhist legend
that there is a river marking the

of this earthly world to a future one.

This river is full of illusion, passion,
pain, and sorrow.

Only when you cross the river, having
fought the currents of temptation to

the far shore, can you reach
enlightenment.

This was the time when we thought of our
families far away.

This was the time when we thought of our
families, all of us.

And so did Kusakabe.

He had brought with him, when he came,
wife and child.

At the outbreak of the war, four years
now, they had left him to go to Saipan

for safety.

Keiko, too, had had a husband who'd left
on the same boat.

She, too, had not heard from him again.

All this we found out later.

Careless. as we might wish to be in our
relations to other human beings, there

is a time of accounting.

Left alone in an empty world, it was
natural for these two to have formed a

of sorts.

For a time, they had forgotten
everything but each other.

Q5 Q5

Q5

Q5

Are you thinking of your home?

Yes but not when I see you.

She was prepared to hear just that.

A long journey begins with one step.

Hers was to be quite a long journey.

This was Anatahan.

We still kept track of the month, though
we had forgotten the day of the week.

A little while later, no one would care
what year it was.

Japan had forgotten us.

The horizon remained empty and remote.

But the circle around Keiko enlarged.
She was young.

Her body failed to remember the blows it
had received.

It also slipped her mind.

She became better looking day by day.
She became Queen Bee, and we, the

began to swarm.

What's your husband doing?

All I know, he's not out looking for
another woman.

How would you like to be my bride
tonight? I don't need two husbands.

Coconut wine had

become our steady diet.

With the coming of wine, discipline
vanished.

Some of us began to feel strongly about
being told to stand guard day and night

against an enemy that never came.

Who was this man, anyway, who never
allowed us to forget what it meant to be

Japanese soldier?

All this talk of stand up and salute
became more and more pointless.

It took him years to achieve his
position.

It took seconds to lose it.

Typhoons and human beings strike without
much warning.

There are few signals, and only the
skilled, the very skilled, can read

The loss of face to a soldier in command
is not a pleasant experience.

To lose the respect of our fellow men is
not pleasant to anyone, anywhere.

A good part of our life is spent in
trying to gain the esteem of others.

To gain self -esteem, however, we
usually waste little time.

We had thrown off the yoke of
discipline. We were free, free of all

which only meant that we were slaves to
our bodies.

A folk song from Okinawa that Sundara
Bushi had spread like a weed among the

soldiers during the war.

You and me, like an egg.

I'm egg white, you're egg yellow. I
embrace you.

The day started with a dispute over the
words of a song.

How the day would end, no one knew at
the time.

We were looking for trouble, and we
found it.

Keiko, keiko, come out, come out. Those
were the right words.

What are you doing?

He was next in line for Keiko's favors.

He gave little thought to our actions.

There is no medicine against stupidity.

And it was epidemic among us.

. .

.

Then came the unexpected.

To all Japanese forces, three months
ago, the

15th day of August, Japan accepted
unconditional surrender.

The Japanese emperor himself was asking
you to lay down your arms.

The war is over.

An American ship will take you home.

Hostilities have ceased.

All Japanese men and officers surrender.

Surrender at once.

The unbelievable had happened.

This could not be true.

We had just begun the war.

We were prepared to fight for a thousand
years.

We'd overrun Asia, almost the entire
Pacific.

How could we have lost so suddenly?

This was an enemy trick.

It could fool no one.

We came to ask him to lead us again.

There are those who lead and those who
wish to be led.

There is not necessarily any other bond
between them.

The sacred

soil

of Japan cannot be conquered.

So long as we have one drop of blood in
our veins, we will not give up.

Rather die than surrender.

But far

away in Japan, our country had faced the
reality of defeat.

The emperor had called the troops home.

And millions streamed back.

Away from the nightmare of trying to
conquer a world.

Father and son.

Wife and husband.

Mothers, daughters, friends, all those
who had feared they might never meet

again.

The men who had fought in vain came back
home.

Though there were many that did not come
back.

nothing about what took place in a new
Japan.

We were still on Anatahan, deserted by
the world, defending this volcanic rock.

Defending it against what enemy?

real enemy most of us ever have is
lonesomeness.

The jungle

had disgorged a rare prize.

An enemy plane had been found wrecked.
The bodies vanished.

This was a doubtful reminder of
civilization.

We fluttered around this sudden gift
from the skies like vultures.

What could we find to make our life
better?

Some of the things were to make our life
worse.

Nishio found a .45 caliber weapon and a
few bullets.

Yananuma II hit the jackpot.

Keiko found a parachute.

Which meant elegance for us instead of
clothes made of tree bark.

Or no clothes at all.

Simba, our friend the lady killer, found
a ring.

The easy way to a woman's heart.

This lifeless mass of iron was the only
sign of life from the outside world so

far.

Maruyama was seen in first class. Before
joining the Navy, he had been a first

-class musician.

He had an idea how to make use of rusty
wire.

He was to convert a world machine into a
musical instrument.

This was the first shot heard on the
island. It was not to be the last one.

Two old pistols, two new masters.

She had been absent all night. This was
a serious defection.

Keiko missing?

Kusakabe was more out of his mind than
usual.

Keiko!

Keiko!

Keiko! Away from all our troubles are
now useless leader kept a machine gun

ready to shoot.

This gun was never to shoot.

Our search party went into action
Something must have happened to Keiko

dead? We were too stunned to count the
men that were missing

Keiko was not dead. Far from it. She was
very much alive.

This was the beginning of a new pattern
on Anatahan.

Keiko had gone into circulation.

To spy on the humiliating details of
another human being's life would be

unforgivable were we not concerned in
finding a clue to our own behavior.

Nothing that happens to a human being is
alien to us.

There but for the grace of God go I.

What's wrong with your husband?

I don't know.

You don't?

He's been living with you for three
years. He doesn't like you.

I see.

He's got a good hiding place.

Kyuko!

What are you doing?

You can't do that.

friend are not uncommon among those we
know.

They had guns now to take the place of
thinking.

Of course they had seen no one. Why
should they

reveal her whereabouts?

They had plans of their own.

We had now been on this island for a
long time, for all we knew we would be

there forever.

It is easy to look back and label all
this commotion about Keiko ridiculous.

What we did there, we might not have
done somewhere else.

Opinions differ on that point.

It is said that human beings react
according to a set pattern, whether they

in a primitive or a civilized society.

Maybe so.

To look back, And something is not the
same as living with it.

The relationship between a man and a
woman is based on emotions which often

not be understood by others, who in one
way or another fumble just as much.

It is easy to see what wrong others do.

We carry no mirror to reflect our own
actions.

the winner this time. A bargain had been
made.

When a woman threatens to leave, this
has considerable influence on the

of a man, even when she's not the only
woman on earth.

Our leader took the occasion to lecture
on our behavior.

Our mission was to defend an Ahtohan,
not to drink and chase after females.

Someday the enemy would appear.

But the enemy was on Amatahan. Man's
genius to destroy himself was in clear

evidence.

The day began with a harmless little
ditty, a prelude to violence.

play the shamisen.

What about your husband?

But she knew how to handle him now.

One more blow out of him and she would
leave him again.

bondage to Keiko, some more and some
less.

She was the center of our universe.

We had no one to call our own, no one to
care for us.

It is not good for man to be alone.

I know there was the oldest sailor among
us, and he confirmed our suspicions

about the marital status of Keiko and
Kusakabe, as if legalistic

made any difference anymore in Anakahan
society.

It was he who noticed the photograph and
told us about it later.

There was no law on our island, no
police.

There were only two pistols.

Not

so

long ago,

These two had been members of the
Imperial Navy, disciplined and polite.

But the Navy was all but forgotten.

And forgotten was what they had once
been.

But they were still human beings. And
that classification is sufficient to

quite a variety of behavior.

Certainly, Kusakabe had promised not to
beat Keiko. But in turn, he reminded her

that she had promised not to fool around
with others.

The two gunmen suggested that they
settle their differences, where they

under scientific observation.

They had an idea.

Keiko was able enough to cook for four
as easily as for two.

Sakabe could provide food if he wanted
to be friendly.

She did not object too much.

It would have done a little good if she
had.

Now these were no longer trifles.

The knife and the bullet had become law.

So the queen bee kept house for three
drones.

At all these events that began now, we
were not present. We were not inside

hut. There is no way to check the story
of violence that now unfolded swiftly.

Even had we been there, all our versions
would differ.

One man who did try to check what
occurred on the hill of fools, as we

subsequently called this corner of the
jungle, was our old friend, Senba.

A little

while

later His body was found in the swing
where only a week before he had enjoyed

the company of Keiko.

We can only guess how he got into that
hammock.

We can only surmise how a second body
came to be found on that hill.

Two bullets,

very deep initials back, helped us to
guess correctly.

In some parts of Asia, there is a god of
immediate retribution whose function it

is to spare us long delays in deserved
punishment.

Had he decided to become the deity of
Anatahan?

Anyway, death was fishing in this
jungle.

And on his hook, as bait, he dangled
Keiko.

So we buried our two victims of our ill
-fated mission with due Shinto

ceremony.

A little part of us went down with them
into the moist ground.

We felt sorry for the dead.

Even an insect an inch long has half an
inch of soul.

Time had stopped for these two, but our
miserable existence continued.

We had now been on Anatahan for five
years.

Five years can be short.

For us, they were endless.

Days can be as fatal as bullets.

All that kept us alive was the thought
of our country, our fatherland.

Somewhere to the north was another
island, an island that we loved and

for and could never forget so long as we
had breath in our bodies.

We celebrated the new year like good
Japanese soldiers. We paid our respect

the direction of the Imperial Palace and
sang our national anthem.

and as if nothing had happened, thanked
each other for the friendship of the

past year and hoped courteously that
this year would be as pleasant as the

struck the events from which we were
barred.

The Tyrian queen had left our festival.

That we knew.

But we never saw the king again.

He had been marked for death indelibly
long ago.

The only thing we did not know was who
would be the executioner.

Now Kusakabe was royalty.

Anatahan had a new overlord.

A new king for a short time. For a short
time only.

She followed him obediently.

But this was a travesty of obedience.

Obedience at the point of a gun is no
obedience at all.

We put Yananuma to rest with the others.

He died young.

He had no chance to learn how to live.

properly.

Someday he would bring his ashes back
home and lie to his people that he had

died like a good soldier, honorably.

The Queen had returned to the Beehive,
but there was little rejoicing.

They should have attended the funeral.

When human beings wish to quarrel, they
soon find a cause. The litany is of no

consequence. This time, it was no food
in the hut. Why doesn't he go out and

some?

There was no love in the hut also.

Fixed in line was the ex -cook of the
Heskimeru, Yoshiri.

He aspired to Keiko.

The goal of his ambitions was not very
lofty.

We are driven by forces about which we
know nothing.

Thank you.

The king is dead. What price the new
king?

How

long

will the tyrannical house of Yoshiri
last?

He was to wield his power over Nakahan
for less than 24 hours.

Keiko was his, and all the coconut wine
he could guzzle.

Untold riches.

But the queen was not to be his.

She had not been partial to the murder
of a previous consort.

The bond between them had been strong.

Whatever the nature of the elastic might
have been that binds together male and

female.

He wanted her as queen and handmaiden.
No insolence.

He was not going to have a cup thrown at
his feet.

He had laughed quite so much that he
known that he would not see the light of

another day.

All of us remember that night.

The moon was low.

The trees silent. The air was full of
mist.

The sea was deep.

The rocks black.

Nature was indifferent to the cruel
destiny of man.

The history of this unfortunate is the
history of an American sailor's hat.

The two pistols were thrown into the
ocean. They were gone.

There was to be no more bloodshed. We
chose Keiko peacefully.

That is, peacefully for us.

But Keiko was not going to be chosen,
peacefully or otherwise.

She was through.

We started a hunt for the prize that
this time had been won in fair

The foe had found us.

The long -looked -for enemy.

We were to be bombed, we thought.

For this we had been trained.

This was a simple matter.

to the Japanese army on Anatahan.

The bombs that had dropped told us that
war had been over for five years.

A vessel would call and take us home.

This was, of course, another crude enemy
trick.

What did they think we were?

Children?

This was hardly the time for love
letters from the enemy.

Let's find our Keiko.

Hey, let go of me!

This method of persuasion had worked
exceedingly well in old Baghdad and

in ancient Rome, and it could not fail
to work in our culture.

We did not see this.

We never saw her again.

She disappeared as if she had never
existed.

Long ago, I heard her say that if she
had wings, she would fly home.

Keiko had gone. There was no more
trouble.

There was also no more life.

Then, a year later, a ship came.

And a white flag was found in our jungle
burial ground.

Letters from Japan.

This one was from Keiko.

She had notified our families, told them
that we were alive.

Kuroda had no family, so she
thoughtfully thanked him and said she

departure had brought no trouble to him.

This was embarrassing, but definitely
not an enemy trick.

There was another letter from the
governor of a prefecture.

The war had ended six years ago.

Your families are waiting.

This flag we send surrendered a Japanese
regiment.

Use it.

We want you home.

You can return if you wish.

I will never go back to a defeated
Japan.

The rest of us surrendered gladly.

We had lost the Battle of Anatahan.

Our days of hardship had ended.

We soared like eagles over our sacred
mountain.

It took ten hours to retrace the journey
of nineteen days and seven long

years.

Back in Japan, heroes to all but to
ourselves.

Brother and sister were there.

Our friends were waiting.

We saw our wives.

Our children, now seven years older, who
would have to earn that affection all

over again.

We were home at last.

And if I know anything, at all about
Keiko, she too must have

been there.

I don't know what you're talking about!