At the end of World War II, the Emperor of Japan sent thousands of Japanese soldiers to their death, even with American troops virtually standing in his rose garden. He did this without flinching; as a descendant of the Sun Goddess, he was a living God.

But Alexandr Sokurov’s third film about totalitarian leaders doesn’t depict anything that closely resembles the events leading up to Emperor Hirohito’s decision to renounce his divinity, after surrendering to Allied Forces. Nor does it depict the human trauma or morals involved. In fact, there is no real story here and at the end of the movie you know as much about the Japanese involvement in World War II as you did at the start.

The film is extremely slow moving and self-reflective. For most of the film Emperor Hirohito is silent, and the silences are drawn out. There is little character interaction, no heroes, no villains, no drama, and pretty much no outside life. And all of this combined says more about Hirohito’the man, the Emperor and the God?than one would read in any textbook or watch in any documentary.

The Sun is really an artistic film piece that is much more like a still but gently moving portrait of Emperor Hirohito and Japanese culture itself. It reveals the very nature of rituals, beliefs and customs and highlights the isolation that all of this creates.

If you’re not a fan of Gus Van Sant’s Gerry, you’re unlikely to enjoy this one. It’s an acquired taste and should come with a warning for those who want to avoid a night of masochism. It’s only if you can appreciate the meaning behind these film techniques that The Sun can be enjoyed.

Finished reading this article? You might also like:

• Return of the Poet
• Princess
• East of Paradise