Every Olympic venue wants to be remembered as the greatest Olympics in history. That's why they each commission a film to preserve a visual record of its events. Sadly, most are little more than interchangeable highlights of winners snipped from ABC's Wide World of Sports videotape and hardly reflect the spirit of the games, since nameless film technicians compile the film instead of filmmakers bent on creating artistry. Olympic committees thrive on the Jack "Just the Facts" Webb philosophy of documentary crafting, forever subjugating most Olympic films to forgettable banality. Only two Olympic films stand out since the modern era began in 1896 (about the same time that filmmaking itself originated): Leni Reifenstahl's Olympia and Kon Ichikawa's Tokyo Olympiad (Tokyo orimpikku).

Ironically, both films became controversial. Artists cannot avoid this. While Reifenstahl's beautifully crafted film has been often trashed for its undercurrent of Nazi ideals of athleticism and beauty, Ichikawa's film was initially rejected by the Japanese Olympic committee for not being an objective record. They also felt that his film didn't promote Tokyo enough and failed to show enough Japanese flags for the awards ceremonies. Silly objections in hindsight, but thankfully Tokyo Olympiad found its way to an international audience that appreciated Ichikawa's unconventional record of the Olympic spirit.

We are especially blessed with a Criterion Collection state of the art DVD that preserves the film and contains an incredibly detailed booklet of background information, an insightful half hour 1992 interview with the director at the site of the 1964 Olympiad, and an informative commentary by film historian Peter Cowie that often provides Olympics background.

Few of Ichikawa's films have found a Western audience, but he is known as a visual stylist and great adapter of Japanese drama. Eschewing the traditional Olympic film opening that hearkens back to ancient Greece, he opens with the first of three images of the sun—an obvious symbolic homage to Japan's rising sun, but Ichikawa also sees the sun as a symbol of peace and harmony, which represents the Olympic ideals he wants to capture. Immediately, the film cuts to a wrecking ball and a brief demolition montage to show Tokyo tearing down the old and building a new facility to host the event, all with a dry off-screen narration listing all the host cities of the modern Olympics. Visual poignancy fills the screen with a helicopter shot of the still standing ruins of Hiroshima along side throngs of modern Japanese lining the streets for the Olympic runner carrying the torch.

Of historical note, the Olympics occur every four years and, despite perpetual local conflicts, have only been interrupted with the world was at war in 1916, 1940, and 1944. They had also never been held in Asia prior to 1964, so this year marks a historical turning point for both the Olympics and Japan, which was recovering from WWII and turning its economy around that year. It may be difficult for modern audiences to think that once the phrase "Made in Japan" was a crude joke about cheap and shoddy goods instead of state of the art high-tech items and automobiles, but the 1964 Olympiad represents an event that helped bring worldwide respectability to Japan.

Although the narration occasionally becomes pedantic about its basic message of peace, harmony, and good will among men, the imagery is astounding and will interest even people who have little interest in sporting events. Ichikawa was not a huge sports fan and knew virtually nothing about the Olympics before taking on the project, and this lack of knowledge and interest shows. He's far more involved in the human spirit displayed by the Olympics and its participants, so wondrous widescreen camera images of a distant torch carrier against Mt. Fuji, close-ups of shot putter hand gyrations, muddy plops of the shot put into the rain drenched earth, exhausted expressions of long distance runners, and the bloody feet of marathon runners take center stage—between victorious champions proudly listening to their national anthems played against a trio of flags.

Ichikawa simply isn't interested in just recording the winners; he finds it just as fascinating to record the extra lap of the Ceylon runner finishing dead last in the 10,000 meter race as he does the incredibly exciting come-from-behind Billy Mills upset victory. Although highly structured (evidenced by his bookends of sun visuals to mark the beginning of both sections and the final ending), he also includes unusual visuals that "results-minded" documentarians would fail to notice—officials shooing an uncooperative pigeon off the field to join his symbolic comrades in the opening ceremony, a sad runner from Chad eating alone while others socialize, long takes of the liquid refreshment table at the marathon to contrast the dedicated competitors with the "others" who leisurely stop to guzzle two or three glasses.

Occasionally the venue itself comes into play for Ichikawa's shot selections, as certain locales (swimming in particular) didn't allow him to place cameras at optimal positions. Thus, you'll notice that some events don't get the same intimacy as others, but also will see that the telephoto lens gets far more usage than in regular films. Although this loses depth perception, it also allows the filmmaker to impressionistically create interesting shots that silently frame the non-triumphant facial expressions of the also-rans effectively.

An Olympics can not be completely scripted, so key to capturing the essence of the event are the various cameramen stationed throughout the venue. For instance, Ichikawa himself carried a heavy camera to the stands to record the opening ceremony, but he became so wrapped up emotionally in the event that he discovered that he had neglected to crank his camera for any shots. Fortunately, his cameramen on the field captured the event—most of Ichikawa's work consists of organizing the crew, instructing them on the types of shots he wanted, and then going through massive quantities of footage to select the 170 minutes for the final cut.

The event that receives by far the greatest coverage is the one that has always been the most difficult for television cameras to cover effectively: the marathon. Ichikawa set some fifty cameramen along the 26+ mile course, resulting in the best record of the ultimate race's challenges ever filmed. It also clearly establishes the film's star—Ethiopian Abebe Bikila, defending champion who had had an appendectomy a few months before the event. Early in the race Bikila establishes a lead, and the camera tracks his perspiring, lithe body steadily throughout, hardly pausing as he grabs a water bottle and cruises back to the winning lap at the stadium, some four minutes ahead of his closest pursuer, Koukichi Tsuburaya—though with editing compression, the race appears much closer.

Ichikawa is clearly fascinated with the African countries that had only a handful of competitors and with the diversity of the participants. The narration gets too heavy handed during the dynamic closing, where the athletes spontaneously mix and celebrate as the flame is gradually extinguished:

Night
And the fire returned to the sun
For humans dream only once in four years
Is it enough for us?