Earthquake Depictions In Films
Last week’s post on Nature and Natural Disasters made me think more about earthquakes. The same week, I finished watching the first season of the Apple TV show “Pachinko” in which one episode includes an earthquake that rocks Japan. I began thinking about portrayals of earthquakes in films. How are the sensory and continental forces portrayed? What existential questions do characters face? How are earthquakes used to further a movie’s plot? What are the best ways to depict the grand scale of an earthquake and its forces? What questions do they make us reckon with about our own humanity?
Hollywood Disaster Movies
Why are Hollywood disaster movies such a staple blockbuster for Americans? Why would we love to repeatedly consume depictions of iconic American landmarks being destroyed in everything from “2012,” to “The Day the Earth Stood Still,” “San Andreas,” “Deep Impact,” “Independence Day,” and “World War Z”?
Wired magazine writes how “Disaster movies, like horror flicks, reflect the anxieties of their era. We go to the disaster movie to engage with real threats in a way that is less horrifying than reading the news.” (Thomas Doherty - Wired). Events like 9/11 and Covid 19 have only fueled desires to see more disasters within the safety of a theater and reassurance through the plot that everything is saved at the last minute but the good guys. In a BBC article on the Lure of Disaster movies, author Tom Brooke writes: “Countless theories abound as to why audiences want apocalyptic films but Wheeler Winston Dixon, author of Disaster and Memory, says: “People go to disaster movies to prove to themselves that they can go through the worst possible experience but somehow they’re immortal.”(BBC)
Visually and thematically, these films follow a very simple pattern. Over the top portrays of chunks of earth splitting to form chasms in the middle of metropolises are common place. Under the wide shots of urban landscape destruction, writers slip in timeless tropes about family, hope, perseverance. This thrilling cathartic digestible package reassures audience members that ‘normal life’ can be preserved through it all.
These movies always end with a reunited family, safely overlooking the carnage that has taken the land before their feet. Rarely do these films linger past the disaster. Writer Douglas Laman writes in Collider: “You can witness all the mayhem and people dying, but disaster movies, much like mainstream slasher fare, don’t linger on the long-term ramifications of all this carnage. It’s a manageable way to experience hardship and one that’s proven quite enticing to people for decades” (Collider. We’re left content at the fact that at least they survived the immediate storm and all will be fine because of [insert classic trope of family, love, etc]. All too often these characters are white, nuclear, heterosexual families and couples. Laman writes further on the significance of persevering ‘normalcy’ frequent with these types of films:
“Rather than use radical disastrous events as a chance to suggest society will undergo equally radical change in response, signifiers of “normalcy” for upper-class viewers are what endure in the face of the apocalypse. While recognizable landmarks may get wiped away by a storm, rigid standards for “normal” expressions of gender, sexuality, and what constitutes a “fulfilling” life are maintained. Screenwriters behind these movies can always come up with wild new ways to blow up Las Vegas or London. However, the concept of subverting Western society's standards just never crosses their minds.”
Under this pretense, it makes perfect sense how Hollywood has continued to pump out these movies to hungry American audiences for decades. Pump up the adrenaline with jaw dropping vfx shots of huge cities and landmarks, sprinkle in a confession of love or family unit reuniting, and cut to credits before lingering on the aftermath (and reshaping of social order). Through earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes, astroids, viruses, aliens, and zombies our Western social standards will persevere. The mixture of fantastical destruction and preservation is likely going to continue as a staple blockbuster genre.
These remaining two depictions of earthquakes in films depart from this blockbuster portrayal and usage of disasters. Both are Asian stories that revolve around a young straight male. One Korean, the other Japanese. Both depictions also revolve around the same historical Great Kanto Earthquake of 1923 in Japan. The 7.9 earthquake lasted between 4 - 10 minutes and claimed over 140,000 lives.
Like many earthquakes, the Great Kanto Earthquake was a multi-pronged disaster; the earthquake itself, the ensuing firestorm, and civil unrest converge to reveal how delicate human creations are, from our buildings, infrastructure, and social order. These last two depictions of earthquakes differ from Hollywood depictions through their portrayal of the actual earthquake, inclusion of the aftermath, and usage in the plot to further the story.
Pachinko - Season 1: Episode 7 (2021)
*Spoiler and Graphic Warning
Depiction of the earthquake
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4Gneln23LI
*This video’s audio was replaced by music on YT. The text towards the end of the YT video does not appear here in the original episode. That text appears at the end of the episode
Out of all the examples in this post, Panchinko’s depiction of the disaster is the most limited in its exposition; no explanatory wide shots of the landscape or city are used to show what is happening. Instead we see the earthquake transpire in one single cramped room. Rather than a grand shot of the land or city to tell us there is an earthquake happening, the directors use a humble up close shot of wooden abacus begin to rattle. Plates begin to clatter, dust begins to fall from the ceiling beams, characters exclaim ‘What is going on?’ Then the whole room and its contents are jostling around violently.
There is a pause as the first wave subsides; character sprawled on the ground with overturned furniture gag for breadth before the next wave continues. As the father desperately tries to reach his son, the second wave picks up more violently, splintering floorboards, toppling pieces of the room, and a huge beam strikes the father in the head killing him as his son reaches back. Cut to black.
Hollywood disaster movies may have several similar shots of characters falling over to root us in people, but they will always inevitably cut to a larger exposition shot to show the greater effect. By cutting towards the larger exposition shots that show the earth splitting and the city skyline tumbling, the Hollywood directors break our attention away from the individual characters to look at the grand spectacle transpiring before our eyes. By staying entirely with the characters for the entire duration of the earthquake, Director Kogonada grounds us in the characters in the room for a much more graphic portrayal of disorientation and death.
On an unrelated note, here is where I began to think about our own creations end up killing us. In an earthquake, it is these things like home that are suppose to give us shelter that end up being the most lethal. An earthquake always renders human creation obsolete.
Showing the aftermath
The remaining half of the episode is devoted to the aftermath of the earthquake. Whereas Hollywood disaster movies might dedicate a 2 minute sliver of the film immediately following the climax to show the aftermath and end of the disaster. This is also where they show that everything will be alright. However, Kogonada’s dedication of the remaining 26 minutes (the majority) of the episode on the aftermath show us how everything will not be alright (in fact, the white family actually dies here). We see the now fatherless main character navigate the subsequent disasters of fire and social chaos at timestamps 12:10 pm, 8:48 pm, and 2:12 am.
The son stumbles out of the building through claustrophobic streets, panic stricken people, dust coated hair, and barely able to make out the sun through the plumes of dust. We finally see our first wideshot showing the city. Here is where Kogonada plants the idea that the Korean character living in Japan is wrestling with his place in the disaster-stricken country and a country that does not want him, something which is violently reinforced later on.
As throngs of people attempt to escape the fire and the city, we are thrown back into the chaos. An explosion violently throws our protagonist to the ground with nothing but ringing in his ears. The aftermath doesn’t shy away from trauma immediately changing the people the protagonist encounters: the waitress with a blank face and uncontrollable shaking hands or the families sleeping in blankets outside because they are too afraid to enter their own houses.
The most poignant aftermath sequence boldly depicts the social unrest that Hollywood disaster movies are afraid to touch. Hints of racism in dialogue throughout the episode build up to the burning of Korean escapees while our main characters watch helplessly.
Usage in the plot
This 7th (of 8) episode is the outlier in Pachinko’s season one. Not only is it shown in a different aspect ratio, it departs from the main narrative told in the other episodes to focus on one character’s backstory, expanding our understanding of what drives them in the present. The episode also serves to expand one of the essential themes of the story; the racial dynamics of Koreans living in their occupying country Japan. The closing text on the screen read “more that 100,000 lives lost including innocent Koreans scapegoated for the devastations afterward by Japanese vigilantes. The exact number of Koreans murdered is disputed...”
Whereas disaster movies are digestible, this is not, it puts the viewer on edge. Instead of touting everything will be fine, it calls into question what could go wrong. Although considerably more pessimistic, the earthquake here unearths a violence and animosity which was already brewing. While these pessimistic (but realistic) portrayals of disaster are much more difficult to watch, they allow us to ask the most important questions about our social order.
The Wind Rises (2013)
Depiction of the earthquake
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNnyBakJXgI
As the only animated film mentioned in this post, “The Wind Rises” directed by Hayao Miyazaki himself takes the most abstract visual portrayal of the earthquake itself. These metaphorical beats are only a few seconds long but give us another way to feel what the earthquake feels like. Most notably is the first shot which interrupts the story. The human exhale personifies the shifting earth, evoking a sigh of release as an abstract cracking earth is shown and a silent wave overtakes the city. The odd use of silence to indicate the start of an earthquake makes the
While “Panchinko” starts with what happens around the individual human then slowly reveals what happened on a grander scale, “The Wind Rises” does the opposite: focusing on the grand abstract force sweeping the land first, then violently zooming in to the buildings it tosses around.
Here, the rolling nature of the land is near absurd. But on the contrary, I think this depiction of the earthquake itself is stronger than anything I’ve seen done in live action. Of all of Miyazaki’s films, this film may be the least fantastical. Whereas his other films existing in magical realities (another one of my posts on hard vs soft world building here) with competing forces influencing the turn of the story, “The Wind Rises” is grounded in much more realistic and historical forces by comparison. With no fantastical magical characters in this film, Miyazaki instead uses his animation and story telling power to depict this natural force in near fantastical visuals that could never be recreated in live action. It visually portrays the tidal wave of force that decimates buildings and throw people off their feet.
The use of sound here also separates this depiction from others; it gives a low guttural grunt to the earth as is tears itself up. By personifying the elements of the earth, does Miyazaki make the earthquake feel more fantastical or more relatable to us? Other live action movies focus on rattling and shaking noises to signify an earthquake. These mechanical auditory cues put the emphasis on the built environment, not the greater force at play. Here, Miyazaki storytells around the power of the earth.
Where as “Pachinko” began with a close up shot of tiny beads on the abacus starting to rattle, “The Wind Rises” ends its earthquake sequence with the close up shot of simple pebbles beginning to settle, a humble depiction of our tiny place on this vastly powerful earth.
Showing the aftermath
The immediate aftermath is silent again. The stillness contrasts the tumultuous preceding minutes. We follow our main character who helps others through the earthquake. We see people streaming out of buildings and into parks huddling for shelter. We see them struggling to find water, desperately trying to avoid the immense plume of smoke and fire engulfing the entire sky
“The Wind Rises” successfully shows a two-pronged disaster; the earthquake itself and the ensuing fire. While the film focuses on the panic of the crowd, no depiction of social unrest is shown. The movie makes subtle hints at class and race but does not tackle them head on.
Usage in the plot
“The Wind Rises” is about a Japanese airplane engineer and designer whose innocent dream to make majestic airlines reckons with his countries growing fascism and pathway to war. Ultimately his creations that he strived his life for are used for war without a single one returning. The earthquake occurs at towards the beginning of the film, and help show the state of Japan and the main character’s resolve to help others. The depictions of fire also hint at greater destruction in the main character’s future. At one point he glances up at the firey smokey sky thinking he sees (his?) crashing airplanes, but at second glance they are just singed pieces of paper floating in the gusts.
“The Wind Rises” does not address orders of social unrest. It rather depicts a broken Japan to set up the remaining narrative of catching up to other countries. “The Wind Rises” finds its biggest success in its unique portrayal of the earthquake itself, one that places the greatest emphasis on the other worldly force that moves the earth.
Disaster straddles an odd line in cinema and our imaginations. On one hand we hate to contemplate it. But uncertainty drives us insane. Disaster movies will still continue being a staple mainstream genre for many more years but other interpretations of disasters will pop up, ones that make us question our place in the world and social order we live in