Watch.

Actually, the '64 Olympics could go thrill to thrill with any Olympics: Bob Hayes' phenomenal dashes in the 100 meters and the anchor leg of the 400-meter relay, the exquisite Vera Caslavska's domination in gymnastics and Abebe Bikila's destruction of the field in the marathon.

But as exciting as the victories of the '64 Olympics were, they are not the real highlights of Kon Ichikawa's splendid documentary Tokyo Olympiad. What is so miraculous about the film is how Ichikawa captures the enormity of the event by focusing on its smallest details. With stunning emotion and without ever resorting to hype or clichˇ, Ichikawa combines a novelist's eye for minutiae with a painter's understanding of emotion.

"I've tried to grasp the solemnity of the moment when man defines his limits, and to express the solitude of the athlete who, in order to win, struggles against himself," Ichikawa said when the film was shown to rave reviews at Cannes in 1965. "I wished to rediscover with astonishment that wonder which is a human being."

Ichikawa privately confessed that he was no sports fan when he filmed Tokyo Olympiad. Still, the director has a fondness for joyful little ironies and there are oodles of them, like the shot of a scary-looking Roumanian high jumper who gently pats her toy mouse for luck before she starts down the runway. Then there's the angelic little American boy in the crowd, who after one disappointment turns to a friend and lets out an "Oh shit!"

And always Ichikawa is watching for the underdog. His post-war films were dark comedies showing the frustrations of common people. "My own life was not very rich," he said then, "so I decided to absorb other people's ideas in my own way, and see what answers emerged from putting them on film."

What emerges are some of the film's most touching sequences. After Billy Mills' astonishing comefrom-behind victory in the 10,000 meters, the camera follows the last runner, taking his final lap by himself to the cheers of the crowd -- his one moment in the sun.

There is also a segment on one of the two athletes representing Chad. He speaks no common language with any other athlete, so he eats and trains alone. When he fails in his 800-meter semi-final, there is no one to console him after the race. He merely heads over to a railing where his sweats are draped, lays them over his shoulder and walks off. His brief Olympic career is over, and no one cares -- except Ichikawa.

Ichikawa's tight focus on the athletes themselves meshes perfectly with an event that may have been the last pure Olympics before the movement was beset by scandals, terrorism, boycotts and drug abuse: Tokyo Olympiad is about sports in the best sense of the word.
-- JEFF KISSELOFF

Production Notes
In spring 1964, award-winning director Kon Ichikawa was given the assignment of covering the 18th Olympic games to take place in Tokyo the following October. Recently in his studio's doghouse for an expensive "flop d'estime," The Outcast -- although it won a "Best Film" award the same year -- Ichikawa had never made a documentary.

The preparations for the Olympics in general and the film in particular were exhaustive. Vast areas in the heart of Tokyo were cleared for the Olympic buildings, a whole new subway and elevated line was built, the capital was in many ways transformed; so much so that many Japanese date the end of postwar recovery and the beginning of the modern nation from this year.

Before the games even began, nearly three hours of film had been taken of Tokyo's makeover, and about 90 minutes of the torch relay outside of Japan. Overall, 400,000 feet of film were eventually used -- translating out to about 74 hours. Japan's dean of cameramen, Kazuo Miyagawa, supervised 164 cameramen operating over 100 cameras backed up by 500 staffers in the administrative, electrical, recording, processing, editing, and music departments. (For the marathon alone, 59 cameras with a staff of 250 were required.) The eventual cost was $1,000,000 in 1964 dollars.

Post-production was typically meticulous -- Ichikawa supervised every cut and sound cue himself -- with avant-garde composer Toshiro Mayuzumi providing a striking original music score. The Olympics took place in October 1964; the film premiered in May the following year.

The commissioning committee was, however not happy with the final project. They decried Tokyo Olympiad as "too artistic." Tense negotiations over cuts ensued. Ichikawa's own original version was never released anywhere.

If there is some ambiguity in whether the present 170-minute version represents the director's ideal cut -- there is no doubt it is the longest extant version anywhere -- there is no question about the version initially exhibited in America. Cut to 93 minutes, the order of events were completely rearranged, and dubbed with an English narration bearing little resemblance to the original. The U.S. release of Tokyo Olympiad, while a modest box-office success, justly generated little of the world-wide acclaim garnered by the long version.

In Japan, the film's box office was the biggest up until that time. It ranked second only to Kurosawa's Red Beard in the race for Japan's equivalent to the Oscar; and its influence on all succeeding sports coverage continues to be evident and pervasive.

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