Towards the end of the Pacific War, as the worsening war situation made air raids on the mainland by U.S. aircraft inevitable, the government took measures to protect schoolchildren by forcibly evacuating them to rural areas starting in August 1944 (Showa 19). This evacuation targeted children living in 13 major cities and industrial areas across Japan, including Tokyo, Yokohama, Nagoya, Osaka, Kobe, Kokura, and Moji. The following year, in 1945 (Showa 20), as air raids intensified, four more cities, including Kyoto and Kure, were designated for evacuation. Consequently, the sight of children playing disappeared from the streets of large cities. All My Children, based on the book Record of the Evacuation of Schoolchildren compiled by the Gekkohara Elementary School, focuses on this concept by presenting the lives of a group of elementary school students and their teachers from Tokyo, who are evacuated to the rural town of Nashimoto in the mountains in the summer of 1945. The movie was produced by the National Rural Film Association.
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As the film begins, the kids have already moved to a suburban area in Tokyo. Despite the circumstances, which include intense regulation of everyday life by the army, U.S. air raids, and a gradual increase in food shortages, the children initially manage to carry on with their lives. They engage in typical activities for their age, such as playing, occasional fighting among the boys, and classroom chores, which are generally shared between boys and girls. However, as the bombings draw closer, two teachers and the entire class are forced to relocate to a mountainous village already struggling with food scarcity. While there, the situation becomes increasingly dire, exacerbated by the hostile attitude of the local priest, who clearly resents their presence in his temple.
Miyoji Ieki directs a film that portrays the era’s circumstances with realism, employing two distinct perspectives: the children’s, which remains somewhat naive, and the adults’, who fully grasp the severity of the situation but strive to shield the children from its harshest realities. This duality allows the film to maintain a sense of realism while avoiding the pitfall of forced sentimentality, a trap that would have been easy to fall into given the story’s premise.
There are, however, moments that are devastating despite the restrained approach. The sequences where the children resort to eating anything they can find—such as toothpaste and paint—are truly heartbreaking, as are the scenes where mothers secretly try to feed their children despite being instructed to share everything edible with the entire community. Additionally, the air raid alarms and their aftermath introduce another layer of drama. This aspect of the film includes the only truly melodramatic moment, but given the gravity of the events leading up to it, it feels justified, particularly because Ieki keeps it brief and relatively restrained. Equally impactful is the sequence following the Emperor’s announcement of Japan’s surrender, where the stupefaction of the adults contrasts sharply with the children’s relief, in perhaps an optimistic reflection on Japan’s future, mirrored in the younger generation’s faces.
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Among the best aspects of the movie is the cast. Ieki deliberately avoids focusing on a single child or family, instead granting equal attention to the entire group of approximately 30 children. This approach enhances the film’s realism, particularly in its depiction of the children’s daily lives during this period. While some characters stand out, such as Kunio, who features prominently in a particularly impactful but slightly moralistic scene near the end, the film refrains from spotlighting any one individual. The performances are naturalistic and compelling across the board, with Hitomi Nakahara standing out as Miss Nishino, the teacher.
Kan Inoue’s cinematography emphasizes realism in its depiction of the various settings, often using wide angles to include multiple characters within a single frame. Umeko Numazaki’s editing ensures a brisk pace, mirroring the energetic movements and behaviors of the children, which complements the film’s grounded approach.
For those seeking a film that combines historical depth with emotional resonance, “All My Children” is a remarkable work that remains relevant and profoundly moving. It is, without a doubt, a must-watch for anyone interested in Japanese cinema or the human stories of wartime.
