A Ballad For Brother Chico-San
How one chance viewing of a Japanese cult film classic led to a rediscovery of another brother who made his mark in an unlikely place and time.
It’s a veritable fact that being a martial arts movie head comes with the territory if you’re from New York City and came up in the late 1970’s and 1980’s. Ever since I got a chance to peep Bruce Lee’s epic cinematic battles in The Big Boss, I was hooked. That decade of the 1980’s was when everyone was kung-fu and karate crazy, and when studios like Shaw Brothers and Golan-Globus were caking off of older flicks arriving stateside and new movie franchises being launched. Usually with Hollywood-approved white faces like Michael Dudikoff, the “American Ninja” or Chuck Norris. It wasn’t until you got to the American Ninja franchise that you saw my man Steve James(RIP) get busy as the bridge from the legendary Jim Kelly. But it made me wonder
more about the Black presence in martial arts, and I began to read up more
about other legends. And in turn, I found myself gravitating to films from other studios and other genres, mainly the chambara pictures that are still treasured by those in Japan and those stationed there and in South Korea.
Fast forward to 2006, and I’m surfing the web looking at different movies by
acclaimed director Seijun Suzuki. One title in that era catches my eye. That
movie? Black Sun.
Black Sun (Kuroi Taiyo) was made in 1964 under the direction of Koreyoshi Kurahara, for the Nikkatsu studio. Nikkatsu was one of the oldest movie production companies in Japan, beginning in 1912. After World War II, movie production had begun to explode, freed from the Imperial government’s decrees that limited the movie studios in Japan from ten to two. Nikkatsu would seize upon this freedom and enter into what is regarded as their “Golden Age” which lasted up to 1971 and included numerous action movies with large budgets that were aimed directly at the younger crowd. These movies spoke to that demographic’s conflicting views and took influences from American noir films and French New Wave films. Enter Kurahara. He was a director who worked on a tightrope of creativity with no net. This would definitely apply to Black Sun. The film centers on a young Japanese miscreant
and jazz lover, Mei. Mei steals and buys an uptempo recording of “Six Bit Blues” by Max Roach (who also was featured on the soundtrack with famed singer Abbey Lincoln) who also inspires the name of the flick. Mei heads back home, which is a half-bombed church to be greeted by his dog named Monk after stumbling onto a near-riot after a G.I. has been murdered, apparently by
a fellow soldier. Mei gets surprised by the AWOL soldier with a loaded rifle, and is overjoyed to see he’s Black. Gill, the soldier is played by Chico Roland.
And so begins a seriously madcap trip of a film, one that goes dark as it progresses and touches upon race and perception in postwar Japan sometimes in an awful and shocking way. It’s definitely a jarring experience to sit through. But it made me curious about Roland and so, I began digging.
Chico Roland was actually the stage name for Arthur “Chico” Lourant. Born on March 30th, 1929 in Tuscon, Arizona, to Pearl and Lawrence Lourant, Arthur was the fourth child. There’s not much that’s available online about his early years. He got into military service and wound up serving in the Korean War. After he was discharged in 1954, Lourant found himself with empty pockets and limited prospects while in Asia. He parlayed a chance meeting with a friend in Hong Kong who hired him as a guide thanks to his knowledge of a small amount of Chinese. From this point, the esteemed Black publication EBONY Magazine gives more insight as taken from their coverage of him in their issue from July, 1963. From the article:
“With his earnings, Chico bought a trumpet in a hock shop and taught himself how to play. He saved enough from a night club band job to return to Tokyo where he played trumpet in the Crown club on the Ginza, Tokyo’s glittering main street.”
The profile goes on to relate that Chico was mistaken for Sidney Poitier by a director from the Toho Studio in 1960 on a visit to the club. The director then asked if Chico could sing, to which Lourant basically warbled some lines from
“When The Saints Go Marching In” as the Toho director took some close up shots. This meeting led to Chico being offered a role in a movie which would kick-start a rather unique career.
Lourant wound up being billed as Chico Roland throughout his film career in Japan — the change no doubt being attributed to the translation from the katakana of the Japanese language. Chico made his way back stateside, and wound up working with his cousin in a dry-cleaning business. But the movie bug bit, and it bit hard. Lourant went back to Japan and wound up being cast for a bit part in The Warped Ones with the name of…Gill. The next couple of roles were bit parts until we get to Black Sun in 1964 which is arguably his most known role. Kurahara also directed The Warped Ones, and liked Lourant enough to expand his role in Black Sun. But Chico wasn’t a one-trick pony. The brother would wind up in some prominent film spots throughout the rest of the decade. Billed as “Black Pastor” in Seijun Suzuki’s Gate Of Flesh from 1964, Chico is tasked with trying to bring a prostitute out of a charred district in post-World War II Tokyo away from a gang of other sex workers.
Then there’s Genocide, otherwise known as War Of The Insects which was released in 1968. This sci-fi cult film made by Shochiku Studios which gained a reputation for art-house movies, features Chico prominently as Charlie, the only survivor of a B-52 crash somewhere off Japan. Charlie’s got two problems in this flick — drugs and a distinct fear of insects which given the film’s plot doesn’t bode well for old boy.
Looking back, these prominent roles that Lourant would play In Black Sun and Genocide on the surface seemed to have an air of buffoonery and racist overtones. But Lourant was truly beloved in Japan, and the respective directors took some pains when interviewed by critics to stress that his role in their films was out of respect for his acting abilities and as a chance to provide commentary on pressing issues at the time that would jolt audiences into thinking critically about race in Japan as well as being against the creeping tensions of the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union that trapped poor soldiers like Charlie as pawns. This is reinforced by reviewers of today sharing those sentiments as these films have been remastered and re-released, who do point these same things out despite the flawed delivery. Indeed, Chico had SKILLS. We’ve already established that he learned Chinese. And apparently, he learned his dialogue by writing it in the phonetic Japanese spelling, then memorized it IN SPANISH before translating it back into Japanese. Chico-san was also called upon for action sequences in certain roles, and even got the chance to be a romantic character in films like The Fox In A Blue Town also produced by Nikkatsu.
Chico would continue his career in Japanese film with other interesting appearances such as a scene in The Street Fighter starring the great Sonny Chiba. He even got into television, with a role in the popular series Great Hero Harimao which was one of the first to enjoy being filmed domestically and in other locales such as Cambodia and Kamen Rider Super-1. The exact number of his television and film roles falls between sixteen and nineteen depending on if you check iMDb or Japan’s version. His last role was in 1981, and with that he came back to Tuscon, Arizona and began a family. Lourant even got to do a commercial in Japan like other major stars often do. This one is for the Nachiguro candy, and it plays upon the amiable side of his personality.
“Chico-san” passed away at the age of 86 on July 20, 2015. Here and there, blogs have made note of his impact on Japanese cinema and have given him the respect that is due. Arthur “Chico” Lourant was in many ways a trailblazer in how Black people made in-roads in a foreign culture and embraced it, and was embraced in return. Chico-San was one of the many bridges of our early Black experience, and hopefully an inspiration for others to come. And maybe that inspiration will soon see more of his movies re-released for a new generation in Japan and the United States.
