Having read the novel and then watched the film, The Burmese Harp "tradition" testifies to the power and pertinence of audience - both by the latter's capacity to demand and consume, as well as an artist's overt insistence on identifying an audience and providing for them. That the novel was written for children and young adults slowly recovering from the most scarring war that the world still knows is as unsurprising as it is apparent that the film was written and made for viewers of fine and sombre cinema. While the former booms with irony and to some degree, even parody of those soldiers who could so easily in the gaze of nationalism become heroes (and thus also in some way even protects them from the obvious attacks that progressive historiographies have made against the atrocities committed by Japan in the prologue of the War - for these soldiers are, in the novel, a mass of innocent and almost guileless men), the film is a thoughtful meditation upon a gentle man who rejects the spoilage that war (and nationalism that has even begotten War in the first place) causes embracing independently a fold that is evidently an object of ridicule it seems, for his fellow Japanese soldiers.
The novel seems to also entail a commentary on the disjointed nature of "Pan-Asianism". Considering Japan's tall claims from the 1930s onwards at its intentions to unify East Asia (and had their disastrous attempts at making inroads into India not failed, even further), it is disappointing indeed for the Japanese army to be not just quite ignorant about one of its new "friends" (read: colonies), but also incredibly bigoted. Implicitly the novel seems to ask if the founders of Independent Burma: U Nu and Aung San who worked hand in glove, in a moment of realpolitik with Japan, were truly well-guided in their choice of friends. While being thoroughly in jest, the prejudice is located in the judgments the soldiers pass on Theravada Buddhism. There is a vulgar understanding among the soldiers of what the austere Southern Buddhism does - encourage the individual to focus on the self alone and the cessation of suffering and reject the pursuit of worldly goals for the benefit of the larger society. At the communitarian level, the Japanese soldiers all observe that the Burmese wager themselves before faith; they may live in small huts but still endow large gifts upon temples and enlarge monasteries. These judgments cause no surprise to the reader: the indictment of Theravada as a solipsistic, navel-gazing, anti-materialist, collectivist, and nihilistic dispensation is a mirror image of 19th century conceptions of Eastern spiritualities. Therefore truly the modernised Japanese (some perhaps even practitioners of Japanese Buddhism) are made to sing in this novel the tune of colonial propaganda. But this is all given a clownish twist. We are made to ask: these "heroes"... is this what they are really about?
The film does not get its feet muddy in these water. By inverting the voice and placing Mizushima at the centre, right away it embodies a liberating image of religion and Buddhism. One that is meditative and inward-looking while at the same time serving the material (and also) soteriological needs of the people. The extended segment of Mizushima almost making cremation of fallen Burmese and Japanese soldiers his prerogative, his mode of merit-making and service to individuals, families, societies, and yes, nation, rescues faith in general and Buddhism from on the one hand the critical scrutiny of fast-paced Japanese and secular modernity. Doing so the film also rescues Japanese too - the troops are not the comical ignorant ruffians of the novel. They, by dominating the space of the film, after Mizushima's thorough transformation occur automatically to the audience on a different karmic plane, so to speak.