A Record of 'Paper That Does Not Rot': 'Kusatori Zoshi' (Weeding Diary)
The Gaze of Documentation
On March 15th and 16th, 2025, we will hold a screening in Sendai titled“The Gaze of Documentation”. We have invited filmmakers Sachiko Iioka and Haruka Komori as guests, and we hope to create a time to rethink the very act of “documenting.”
In addition to my own work, we will be screening two masterpieces of documentary film from the past. One of them is“Otentosama ga Hoshii” (I Want the Sun), which was composed and edited by Makoto Sato of “Aga ni Ikiru” (Living on the Aga River) using footage shot by cinematographer Sei Watanabe of his wife, who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease. The other is director Katsuhiko Fukuda’s “Kusatori Zoshi” (Weeding Diary).
About “Kusatori Zoshi”
“Kusatori Zoshi” is a 1985 film directed by Katsuhiko Fukuda, who left the “Ogawa Productions” group—led by Shinsuke Ogawa, who had been filming documentaries in Sanrizuka for many years—to direct the work himself.
In Sanrizuka, Chiba Prefecture, a movement against the construction of an airport began in the late 1960s, leading to repeated violent clashes between residents, supporters, and riot police, resulting in deaths on both sides.
Narita Airport opened in 1978 while the opposition movement was still ongoing. The 1985 film “Kusatori Zoshi” depicts the “aftermath” of this so-called “struggle.”
This work has a very different tone from the “Sanrizuka” series filmed by Shinsuke Ogawa. The protagonist of the film is Katsu Someya, who settled in Sanrizuka shortly after the war and lived as a farmer. Born in 1899, she continued to oppose the construction even after the airport opened, living on the land and continuing her farming.
“Kusatori Zoshi” is not a film that directly captures the “struggle.” In the film, Katsu-san, who is over eighty, recounts the journey of her life thus far.
The story centers on her tumultuous and arduous life, including giving birth to eleven children and losing six of them, wanting to commit suicide to spite her son who sold her land without permission, and being abandoned by her husband.
What is shown on screen is also the daily life of Katsu-san, who lives by weeding in the fields and sowing seeds. As the narration says, “She only says that the ‘Great Execution’ (forced land seizure) was intense,” and neither scenes of fierce clashes with riot police nor images of residents being dragged away appear on screen.
However, from those modest images shot on 8mm film, it is conveyed that the daily life that seems ordinary is, in fact, her own “struggle.”
Narration as an “Act”
“Kusatori Zoshi” is structured into 19 chapters. Aside from the narration that is inserted from time to time, the film basically proceeds entirely through Katsu-san’s voice.
Katsu-san’s own figure is shown from the beginning, but her voice is used in what is known as “off-screen” audio, and footage of her actually speaking does not appear for quite some time.
It is not until around the “third chapter,” some time after the film begins, that her voice and her speech synchronize. The moment I saw her figure speaking in the field, I felt a strange surprise: “So this person was Katsu-san.”
The moment her voice and body, which had been separate until then, aligned, I had the sensation that her existence had “manifested” on the screen. What was shown there was not merely an “interview,” but a single “act” of storytelling.
In the final chapters, the story of when Katsu-san was informed of her husband’s death is repeated three times. Dates are inserted for each, and the narration explains, “She only tells of that event as a story.”
If the goal were simply to convey information, there would be no need to include the “same story” multiple times. However, the fact that these multiple accounts are intentionally left in clearly reveals the film’s unique perspective of treating it as an “act.”
The Missing Chapter
In another scene, there is a chapter where Katsu-san talks about her grandchild. However, that part consists only of a black screen after the title appears.
According to the narration, after her grandchild saw the film during editing and said, “It felt unpleasant when I appeared,” they discussed it and decided not to release that part, making it “a record between me and him.”
It would have been possible to cut the entire chapter during editing and make it as if it never existed, but the completed work intentionally leaves behind this “omission.”
This black screen makes us realize facts that are essentially obvious: that we cannot leave everything behind, that we cannot tell everything to everyone, and that film is not everything. It is an important “omission” that exists precisely because of the chapter structure.
A Record of “Paper That Does Not Rot”
Near the end of the film, there is a scene where Katsu-san’s own voice is overlaid on footage of her working on shipping vegetables. Regarding the life they have lived and the fact that they have lived until now, she says, “You should keep a record on paper that doesn’t rot.”
I felt a shock, as if the film had looked back at me, because Katsu-san described film as “paper that doesn’t rot,” and because she, the subject being filmed, used the word “record.”
In “Kusatori Zoshi,” the relationship between the one filming and the one being filmed is not a one-way street. Nor is it simply equal or just bidirectional. It cannot be explained by words like “collaboration” either.
Here, the camera, the subject, and the entire relationship between them are completely enveloped by Katsu-san herself. While she is the subject of the film, she is a presence far larger and broader than the film itself.
A Film That Should Be Re-evaluated Now
“Kusatori Zoshi” is a work that should be re-evaluated precisely in this modern age, which is flooded with images. The importance of the fact that the parts that “felt unpleasant” are left as a black void, and that the words “record it on paper that doesn’t rot” are spoken by Katsu-san, the subject herself, cannot be overstated.
This film is a walk to the limits of documentary, and at the same time, it is the first step taken forward.