Categories
action jidai-geki literary adaptations

Kurosawa Akira’s “Tora no o wo fumu otokotachi”

The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail (Tora no o wo fumu otokotachi) is a film directed by Kurosawa Akira in 1945 and released in 1952.  This film features some prominent characters such as Benkei, played by Ōkouchi Denji, Nishina Tadayoshi as Lord Yoshitsune, Fujita Susumu as Lord Togashi, and Enomoto Kenichi as the porter.  This film fits into the jidai-geki genre because the plot revolves around a 12th century incident and examines Japan’s warrior past.

Tora no o wo fumu otokotachi is a film about how Lord Yoshitsune and his six loyal retainers disguise themselves as ascetic monks to escape Kaga by passing an enemy barrier checkpoint.  The story begins in medias res, a porter helping Yoshitune’s retinue in their way across the mountains to a checkpoint, whereupon during a rest break their identities are revealed by chance through the deductions of the porter based on rumours and gossip.  This revelation results in Yoshitsune changing his disguise to that of a lowly porter instead of remaining in the guise of a monk where it is obvious that he is not one.  Benkei, Yoshitsune’s chief bodyguard, continues to lead everyone to the barrier checkpoint where their journey culminates in a confrontational showdown against Togashi, the lord in charge of the checkpoint.

This film contains many beautiful and striking shots, but one scene in particular that stands out to me is a scene near the beginning of the film where Yoshitsune and his retinue are taking a break, before the porter discovers their identities.  This long shot captures Benkei on the far left and facing away to the horizon, the porter on the far right, Yoshitsune sitting in the middle with his back to the camera, and the five other retainer samurai fanned out in front of Yoshitsune.  The beauty stems not just from their positions on the screen, but from their actual postures and the emotions and values that they reveal.  The samurai’s emotions are exhibited just by their postures, and this long shot captures that intangible elegance and grace.  Morals such as honour, righteousness, and virtue are evident in their proud stances as values such as loyalty, respect, and reverence are revealed by their bowed heads and seiza sitting style.  As seiza is a formal way of sitting, this reveals that even when in disguise the retainers offer deference to their respected lord.  Benkei’s powerful and diligent stance and the postures from the kneeling samurai exude an intangible beauty that is translated into loyalty, duty, and sacrifice.  These cultural values are effectively captured by the actors and the director’s use of the long shot in this scene.  Though the porter is not of the samurai class and he is situated slightly outside of their half circle, because he believes in the same values as the samurai regardless of class distinction, the inclusion of the porter is an important factor.

A recurring image within the film that I believe has a large significance is that of the ume or plum branch that Yoshitsune carries at the beginning of the film.  The ume branch can be seen as a metaphor for Yoshitsune, as the ume flower represents a person of authority and wealth.  He is seen to be carrying the blossom until he changes his disguise to that of a lowly porter.  The ume blossom being discarded parallels the necessity of Yoshitsune abandoning his true heritage for the sake of saving their lives.  The stark image of the lone ume branch lying on a log until the porter picks it up reflects his decision.  As the porter tucks the ume branch onto his back belt, this symbolizes his silent declaration to take care of Yoshitsune by protecting his identity and helping the retinue cross the barrier.  Parallelism is evident in the many scenes where the ume branch is seen safely tucked away by the porter, even in the face of adversity.  This represents the continual safekeeping of Yoshitsune himself and the hope that he will be able to regain his identity.

My overall reaction to Toro no o wo fumu otokotachi is that I loved it and that I love Kurosawa Akira.  His directing style is beautiful as many scenes portrayed important facets to Japanese culture.  I think this film is wonderful because it explores the nobility of proud warriors through the actions of Yoshitsune’s loyal retainers.  Esteemed morals and principles such as virtue and sacrifice have lost much of their value now, but watching this film where these honourable men had the courage to uphold their values definitely left a positive and emotional impression on me.

Categories
drama, melodrama gendai-geki shomin-geki

The still life picture of loneliness

Ozu Yasujirō’s An Autumn Afternoon (1962), known as Sanma no aji, is frequently described as a posthumous work of the director, a shomin-geki focusing on explorations of family dynamics in postwar Japan in 1960s. Chishū Ryū, who starred in other Ozu films, plays Hirayama Shuhei, an ageing widower taking care of his three varying children. For example, the eldest, Koichi, who is married, purchases a new set of golf clubs, and then asks his generous dad for a loan to buy a refrigerator. The middle child, Michiko (Iwashita Shima), is a 24-year-old marriageable daughter who is working and taking care of the house for her father and her younger brother, Kazuo (Mikami Shinichirō), a teenager.

Shuhei was a captain of a warship during the Second World War. Now, he is a genteel and well-paid executive in an industrial company. Shuhei is widowed, and he still has a marriageable daughter Michiko and his youngest son Kazuo living at home with him. Shuhei also likes to spend his evenings in his favorite izakaya (Japanese bar) with his friends Kawai (Nakamura Nobuo) and Horie (Kita Ryūji). Although one of his friends recommends he consider about his daughter’s marriage, he is halfhearted about it. It is probably not only because Michiko is still considered a child by him, but also because he fears that he will become lonely if she gets married. However, this recommendation finally gets through to Shuhei after some encounters with his former high school teacher (Tono Eijirō) and his daughter, and he realizes that he has relied too much on Michiko when she should be starting a family of her own. Thus, the search for Michiko’s prospective husband begins.

In the film, there are many unique camera techniques. Ozu’s style developed into an individual mode of expression that displays great stability and continuity. Some of his innovations, such as the use of a 360 degree rule and the tatami-shot are consistently used throughout his work, from the early silent films to his last colour films (Hedges & Bernstein, 1984, p.176). Firstly, the tatami-shot is a camera technique, filming people at the level of a seated person on a tatami mat. Through this technique, viewers see the screen in a full shot from a low angle. Tatami shots are used consistently in this film, such as when Shuhei discusses marriage with each of the characters, Michiko, Koichi, or his friends at Kawai’s house. This is not a vibrant technique for the scenes, however it makes viewers feel like being a steady furniture in the place and observing the characters. According to Hedges and Bernstein (1984, p.177), by using this kind of technique, Ozu’s classical realism becomes the perfectly tuned instrument of his art and a style defined by an absence of style (Hedges & Bernstein, 1984, p.177). Secondly, Ozu does not use classical Hollywood cinema conventions such as the “180 degree rule”, a basic guideline in filmmaking that states that two characters in the same scene should always have the same left/right relationship to each other (Hedges & Bernstein, 1984, p.176), and replaces it with the “360 degree rule”, crossing this axis and taking close-up shots right away between the chracters; hence, each character’s face is pointed straight at the camera while having conversation with the other. For instance, viewers are able to see this technique occasionally when Shuhei spends time with his friends in the izakaya or has a conversation with other characters. This makes viewers feel that they are actually having the conversation with each character.

Furthermore, Ozu’s mise-en-scéne, especially his sense of space, is remarkable. There are many shots of corridors and alleys which contain the vanishing point. Also, the film was mostly shot in traditional Japanese houses, thus viewers may feel that they are confined in the buildings. For example, the structure of a wooden building which is densely knit, the frame of a paper sliding door which is cross striped, or perpendicular designs contribute to the feel that the characters are isolated or covered. Characters indeed do not move their bodies much and are confined within the frame. The film is maintained to show stuffy compositions such as old apartments or neon signs packed in narrow alleys. There is only one scene showing a wide-open space, when Michiko and Miura, who she secretly likes, wait for the train. This fair view scene seems that it is starting to imply their loving relationship; however it just passes without any meaningful progress. If Michiko confessed her feelings to Miura, they could have been in a loving relationship. Yet the reason why she did not is probably because of her sense of responsibility towards her father and young brother, who may be left in solitude in a stuffy wooden house. Finally, she loses the chance and comes back to the cross-striped frame.

Overall, the film is about loneliness. Ozu portrays loneliness by showing the main characters’ backs. In the room of tatami mat, the room upstairs, and the bar, the characters consistently show their backs to the viewers while they are deep in thought. Although they do not say that they are lonely, it seems that their backs express that they are lonely. When Shuhei drinks beer at a bar, the camera captures him from a low angle. Although Shuhei has a poker face most of the time, his back at the bar cannot lie: he is lonely because he is widowed and his daughter is getting married. Moreover, the back of Michiko when she loses the chance to be with her lover also expresses loneliness. Finally, the title of the film is a metaphor for the loneliness of life. The Japanese title Sanma no aji can be translated as “the taste of mackerel”. However, the overall story of the film, the loneliness, is not related to the title, “the taste of mackerel”, nor there is a scene containing mackerels. It raises the curiosity of the viewers about Ozu’s intentions and reasons for choosing the title of the film. Literally, the Japanese word for mackerel means “fish of autumn”. Therefore, the title means the taste of “fish of autumn”. Ozu probably wanted to use the mackerel, the fish of autumn, as a metaphor for the taste of a lonely season of life or the taste of the autumns of life. The film is well-paralleled with the title in this sense. Although this film is not taken with beautiful scenery, Ozu illustrates how the durability and circularity of life are beautiful and sad. He uses spaces and arrangement of the characters rather than simply using language in order to portray the taste of mackerel, of loneliness.

Reference

Hedges, I, & Bernstein, J. (1984). History, style, authorship: the question of origins in the new German cinema. Journal of Contemporary History, 19(1), 171-187.

Categories
anti-war literary adaptations post-war

“Fires on the Plain”

Fires on the Plain was released in 1959, directed by Ichikawa Kon, and based on Ōka Shohei’s novel Nobi. The leading male actor is Funakoshi Eiji and there is no leading female actor in this movie because it is a Second World War II story through the eye of the leading male actor. The original movie is 106 minutes long in black and white yet there is no remade version of it.

The movie is about the personal experience of a Japanese soldier, Tamura, who is expelled from his squad because there is not enough food for everyone and his leader tells him to stay in the hospital for a longer period. On the way to the hospital, he sees smokes for a few times and he runs away instantly because he is afraid it is a signal for the American army to attack the place. When he arrives at the hospital, the commander asks him to leave since he only took people who were about to die. The Japanese soldiers can go nowhere except Palompon where they will be evacuated. At the same time, the American army keeps firing at them. Everyone is hungry and tired so they eat whatever they could find and sleep anywhere on the way to Palompon. They keep walking and a lot of them either fall down or are dead. Tamura finally meets his friends, but they practise cannibalism which is a human being eating another human being’s flesh. Therefore, Tamura kills them and runs to the field where there was smoke.

One theme of the movie is humanity which is the act of being kind to others. The soldiers who were abandoned and left behind in the Philippines are hungry and they have insufficient weapons to fight against their enemies. However, the Emperor’s allies do not send more troops to help them. In other words, they can only fight to the death since it is merely impossible to make it to Palompon. Firstly, there are airplanes, tanks and vehicles moving around the city to look for the Japanese soldiers so they have no way to escape. Secondly, they do not have enough food to maintain their daily needs; they will die of hunger in the end. Thirdly, the Filipinos will kill them if they see the Japanese soldiers. As a result, the soldiers can not hide anywhere. Perhaps there were many difficulties in the Japan mainland so he could not help his citizens abroad. However, the government puts its people in danger (started the war) first, it should evacuate as many soldiers back to Japan as possible. Another main aspect of humanity is cannibalism. Tamura’s comrades kill other living humans for food and they refer to those to “monkeys”. When one person faces the problems of insufficient food, what should he choose to keep him alive? Tamura eats grass and leeches so he has no energy. His comrades eat flesh because either they die, or others do. So they choose to sacrifice others. Near the end of the movie, there is a Buddhist follower who eats mud as food and he said “I can’t make the forest.” I believe forest here means lives. There are many species, fruits and trees in the forest that humans can make use of. Once the forest is destroyed, myriads of lives end.

The main character Tamura’s personality gradually changes throughout the movie. He treats every life as valuable even Filipinos. When he saw the Filipino girl who screams when she sees him, he is trying to drop his gun but he kills her since the girl cannot stop screaming. It seems that others will notice his existence so he has to shoot at her to close her mouth. When she is dead, he fixes her clothing and makes her look neat. From this action, I can tell that he feels sorry to her. At the beginning, he hides whenever he sees the smoke from a field. After he knows the reason that farmers burned the field, he runs to the field although the probability of keeping himself safe is low.  “I know it is dangerous, but I want to see people who are leading a normal life”. Tamura is scared of death; he tries his best to get to the evacuation area. However, he is brave to run to the smoke field because he wants to live as a normal human being. He does not want to be someone who eats human flesh. He does not eat any of the dead bodies he saw on the way to Palompon. All the things he does show that he wants to live as a normal person in a peaceful society. He is not afraid of death but he is aiming for a normal life.

I like this film a lot as it changes some of my old views toward Japanese of the WWII period. I am Chinese; I learned that Japanese invaded many countries. I still remember there are many documents about how cruel the Japanese treated Chinese men, women and even children. As a reason, I thought Japanese soldiers were all cold-blooded. However, I see that Tamura has no real intention to kill anybody in the film and he disagrees with cannibalism no matter how hungry he is. From my perspective, maybe it was just the government’s decision to invade other countries yet many of the Japanese soldiers had to follow the central orders. So I do not think they are as bad as I thought. Thus I will recommend this movie to people who dislike the Japanese; it will change your perceptions.

Categories
drama, melodrama gendai-geki shomin-geki

“Late Spring”

Ozu Yasujirō’s Late Spring (Banshun, 1949) is a drama that revolves around the everyday lives of the working-class families (shomin-geki) during postwar Japan and its American Occupation.  The main characters of this film, Somiya Noriko (Hara Setsuko) and Somiya Shukichi (Ryū Chishū) are played by recurring actors who are often seen in other films by Ozu.  Hara Setsuko plays the daughter who wishes to take care of her father, Somiya Shukichi, and be by his side as long as she can.

In this black and white film, Noriko is an unmarried 27-year-old daughter who willingly continues to live and take care of her widowed father, Shukichi.  All is fine with their living arrangement until Noriko’s aunt Masa draws attention to the reality that Noriko should be married.  Masa discusses her concern with Shukichi and suggests that his assistant, Hattori, would be a good candidate for a husband.  Shukichi approaches Noriko with this subject, which results in hysterical laughter revealing that Hattori is engaged.  Later on, Noriko visits Kyoto and meets up with an old widowed family friend, Onodera.  Onodera’s recent remarriage has been brought up to Noriko in which she reveals her impression of remarriage as “filthy” and “distasteful”.  Although Noriko is reluctant at the thought of marriage, Masa continues to search for matchmaking possibilities and pairs her with a gentleman who resembles Gary Cooper.  However, Noriko objects to the match because it would lead her to abandon her father.  It is then brought up that her father may remarry and she should not worry.  Noriko is jealous and upset after receiving news that her father would consider remarriage but after an encounter with the lady who he might possibly remarry, she gradually accepts the arrangement and the reality of a life without her father.

Ozu’s distinctive manner of filmmaking emphasizes character development more than the narrative itself, and in this case, in regards to marriage as a theme and how it changes the characters.  The character developments are in a sense paralleled with traditional roles and modern/western times to the Japanese culture.  In the early part of the film, Noriko and Shukichi are both comfortable and ecstatic with regards to their everyday lives.  Noriko is consistently seen with a smile, being playful, innocent and independent.  The subject of marriage is constantly brought up and is pushed upon Noriko.  Marriage seems to be the recurring topic with almost every character she interacts with: Shukichi, Masa, Aya, Onodera, and Hattori. Although Noriko still maintains her smile, it can slowly be seen as less genuine as the idea of marriage is pushed on her. One of the first scenes that introduces the theme of marriage and remarriage is at a restaurant where Noriko and Onodera were eating and chatting.  A realization comes upon Shukichi that he should not be selfish and keep his daughter by his aside attending to his daily activities, and rather have her start her own family.  An evident transition between the father-daughter relationship begins to transform from a more modern, playful attitude towards the traditional patriarchal position.  This transition is clearly seen after they leave the Noh performance because the two characters walk down a long road but not in linking arms or side by side but rather far apart; she walks along the grass while he continues on the concrete road.  Another scene that is significant to Noriko and Shukichi’s relationship is their last trip to Kyoto together.  This last trip resembles their final recognition of the closeness of their relationship.  Here one can see the playful mockery and physically teasing relationship slip through more into a traditional role.  Noriko confesses her doubts regarding her marriage and would want to remain with Shukichi even if he were to remarry.  Shukichi lectures her by saying such things such as this is the way of life and you must move along.  Although Shukichi continues to speak, his speech in a way acts like a barrier to avoid his real emotions.  On the other hand, Noriko listens with her head down like she is withdrawing into herself and shielding herself from his words.  Both characters in this scene mask their true feelings.  The audience feels the sense of Noriko’s resistance to conformity and her filial obligations but yet empathizes with the sacrifice Shukichi has made for the better good and future of Noriko.

The camerawork observed in this film are typical styles seen in the works by Ozu. (For example, the tatami shot, where the scene is obstructed, is one of the many techniques seen) and framing a shot within a border or door frame, to name just a few.  Ozu is recognized for his use of tatami shots – scenes filmed at a lower than eye-level height designed to capture characters when they are seated on the tatami.  By centralizing the focus on inanimate objects in the foreground, Ozu attempts to distance the audience from the characters of the film, creating a sense of space and separation.  For example, Noriko was making her way home after declining Hattori’s offer to go to an opera show and the audience is presented with a tree stump as she walks into the scene and then further and further away.  .  Another very common custom by Ozu is what he chooses to frame in a shot. For example, in many shots, his characters are surrounded by door frames or anything that could constitute as a border; it portrays a theatrical setting with different layers while having the spotlight on the character. Another significant cinematographic style that Ozu employs in this film is the fact that he continually portrays characters passing through entrances or exits, implying their attendance at a certain locale or event. Thus, rather than showing the audience what the characters are doing at the destination, Ozu merely implies their attendance and moves on directly to the next shot. This simplification of the narrative makes transitions from scene-to-scene seem seamless and effortless to the audience. Such is the brilliance of Ozu and his camera work

Ozu’s films are thought as being reflections on the changing notions of changing roles and identities, and its perception of place within Japanese society as children, husbands, wives and how they define themselves. These characters in Late Spring were portrayed as his principle work in terms of exploring roles of men and women during this time.  Ozu Yasujirō’s films are continuous projects from his understanding of the complexity of everyday life and this one is no different.

Categories
drama, melodrama gendai-geki literary adaptations shomin-geki

Prostitutes’ plight: the social realism of Mizoguchi’s “Women of the Night”, 1948

Mizoguchi Kenji’s Yoru no onnatachi or Women of the Night (1948) is based on a contemporary novel by Hisaita Eikiro titled ‘Joseimatsuri’ depicting the lives of everyday women whose lives and family structures had been drastically transformed by the war. The shomin-geki documents the descent of three women into the violent world of prostitution after World War II in the seedy Shinsekai district of Osaka. When the two long-lost sisters Fusako (Tanaka Kinuyo) and Natsuko (Takasugi Sanae) meet again in the aftermath of the war, they soon discover that they both have lost everything and that they have no one but themselves to rely on for financial support.  Fusako’s young and impressionable sister-in-law Kumiko (Tsunoda Tomie) also moves to Osaka in search of freedom and happiness only to find herself alienated, dehumanized and forcibly initiated into prostitution by the tough-skinned women that rule Abeno. All three women find themselves in increasingly dire economic and moral circumstances, which both toughen their demeanoru towards the world and generate a rift between them. Mizoguchi employs his signature long takes with elements of neorealism by juxtaposing interior studio scenes with shots of urban environments to frame scenes that highlight the moral degradation of prostitutes and the bleak reality that they face.
In the aftermath of the war, three women whose lives are interconnected have lost everything. Fusako anxiously waits for the arrival of her husband in exile in Korea, while taking care of her ailing child who has tuberculosis. Struggling to make ends meet, Fusako sells her possessions to be able to feed her son. Fusako and her sister-in-law Kumiko later find out that their “last hope” for survival is gone forever. With limited opportunities in their village, both women leave for Osaka where Fusako re-unites with her sister by happenstance. Natsuko solemnly informs Fusako that their parents have died and that she had been raped during the occupation. Having had to take care of herself on her own, Natsuko took up a job as a dancer hostess at the Hollywood Club. The news distresses Fusako who had wished for a better fate for her younger sister. In an attempt to be financially independent, Fusako approaches Kuriyama who offers her a job as his personal secretary. As Fusako begins to develop feelings for Kuriyama, she comes home to see Kuriyama leaving Natsuko’s side. Furthermore, it is revealed that Kuriyama is involved in a shady narcotics business. Angered at both her sister and Kuriyama’s betrayal, the embittered Fusako considers prostitution. She soon disappears into the sordid streets of Abeno. Natsuko desperately goes in search for Fusako in Abeno when the police randomly capture her and a group of other prostitutes and send them off to a hospital. At the facility, the two sisters re-unite again while the resentful Fusako broods. The possibility of solidarity or support between the sisters is severed by their love triangle over Kuriyama. But when Natsuko later learns that she has contracted syphilis, she grows more and more disillusioned by her deepening gloomy destiny. Furthermore, when both sisters find out that Natsuko is pregnant with Kuriyama’s child, they realize the survival of the child could possibly dramatically change the course of their lives.

Women of the Night interrogates the moral repercussions of a society that tolerates prostitution, which is seen to dehumanize women and thus legitimize their treatment as animals. Mizoguchi went on location to film Women of the Night in an attempt to capture the reality of the supposed moral degeneration and violence that shape the lives of prostitutes and other socially and economically marginalized peoples. His quest for a greater form of social realism or shomin-geki led him to the impoverished prostitute quarters of the Shinsekai district in Osaka. In the immediate postwar period, the social problem of prostitution seemed to have proliferated and become exacerbated in Shinsekai, where post-war reconstruction efforts had been largely ignored. As a result, Shinsekai had turned into a destitute squalor rampant with syphilis, gambling, prostitution and other deviant activity. Some film critics have cited Mizoguchi’s influence in the period from the styles of Italian neo-realist filmmakers who also took an interest in the plight of the lower classes after WWII. In a similar fashion, Mizoguchi employed visual techniques that relied on the physical inclusion of the dirty urban landscape to frame the emotional experiences of desperation that plagued Fusako, Natsuko and Kumiko. When Kumiko runs away to Osaka, she is almost promptly whisked away by a charismatic student, Kiyoshi, who takes her to the unfamiliar Shinsekai. Kumiko unknowingly enters a brothel in the outskirts of town where Kiyoshi deceptively steals her money, forces her to drink beer, rapes her and then leaves her to her own devices when a group of prostitutes corner and push her down in the streets and forcibly remove all of her clothing. In this gripping scene, the rancorous group of prostitutes violently defiles Kumiko and gives her an ultimatum: to join them or leave Shinsekai. At this point, the vulnerable Kumiko, stripped of all of her money and clothing, has become utterly dehumanized.  The young girl, who had initially left her broken home to find freedom and happiness in Osaka is literally pushed into the dirt of a road that resembles a desolate wasteland. The circumstances that frame Kumiko’s fall are fuelled by the raw reality of a world gone awry, virtually devoid of any human sympathy. The importance of Mizoguchi’s location shoots at Shinsekai and Abeno is marked by the starkness of the wasteland, by the calloused women who feed on the innocent in order to get by.

Throughout his cinematic career, Mizoguchi continually revisited themes of women’s moral dilemmas and their fall into disillusionment and self-imposed defilement (Sisters of the Gion, 1936; Life of Oharu, 1952; Streets of Shame, 1956). It seems that Mizoguchi reuses similar tropes of the growing rift between women or sisters (in the case of Sisters of the Gion and Women of the Night), which hinders the possibility of the women overcoming the patriarchal authority that continually limits their possibility for emancipation. Fusako and Natsuko bicker over Kuriyama, who only continues to disrespect both women until he disposes of the both of them singlehandedly. Mizoguchi’s heavy-handed moral concerns obscure the complicated dynamics of a patriarchal society that secures a stronghold on the course of women’s lives and livelihoods. Rather than allowing Fusako and Kumiko an active voice, they seem to wallow in self-pity and placidly receive unquestioned paternal guidance from male figures of authority. One of the men at the facility condescendingly asks Fusako what is left of her but a “bruised and defiled body”. Fusako promptly leaves without a word but she seems to have internalized his judgment, causing her sense of self-worth to plummet even further.  Fusako initially denies that prostitution could be a plausible prospect to maintain her livelihood, but as her financial situation worsened, she realizes she could no longer rely on any man for financial security. At the same time, her services rely on the continual abuse from men which only serves to fuel her rancor. This dilemma provokes Fusako’s further demise into prostitution where she finds the opportunity to channel her bitterness through corrupting men by infecting them with disease. The internal fighting between the women severs any possibility of solidarity for the women. They are left utterly fragmented with limited resources, and increasingly disenfranchised. In the final scene where the women continue to fight amongst themselves, Fusako and Kumiko endure the beating by the other prostitutes while the camera pans out to an iconic image of the Madonna and Child on the stained glass window. The presence of a church seems disjointed amongst the fighting and chaos of the street. Mizoguchi uses the Catholic reference to focus on the importance of the child, which represents innocence and the possibility for the prostitutes’ reform through moral revitalization and re-purification.

Mizoguchi’s Women of the Night is a disturbing look into the brute conditions that frame the lives of marginalized women whose status in the lowest rung of society is exacerbated by post-war economic conditions.  The film includes disturbing scenes of rape and sexual violence. Through such shocking scenes, Mizoguchi forces the viewer to face difficult scenes of an otherwise invisible populace in order to restore a kind of humanistic empathy for their suffering. In effect, Mizoguchi is able to capture the rawness of sorrow through an in-depth inquiry into the private lives of his characters.

Categories
drama, melodrama gendai-geki

Kurosawa Akira’s Ikiru

Rarely does one have the good fortune to experience a legitimate masterpiece of world cinema, but that is indeed an apt description for Kurosawa Akira’s Ikiru (1952). An example of gendai-geki (films that work within contemporary settings) and known usually by its Japanese title rather than the English translation (“To Live”), Ikiru is the tale of a Japanese public servant, Watanabe Kanji (Shimura Takashi), who finds out that he has terminal stomach cancer. This prompts Watanabe to completely re-examine his life – a life in which he has spent thirty years working in the same government office, with little to show for it in terms of accomplishment or happiness. The bureaucracy in which Watanabe works is almost comically labyrinthine. One memorable sequence from early in the film shows a group of citizens trying to enlist municipal help to create a park in their community. Each city office they approach refuses to help and shucks the responsibility off to another department: the Parks Department sends them to the Health Department, which recommends they see the Sanitation Department, who pass the buck on to the Environmental Sanitation Department, and so on. Watanabe’s family life is similarly dysfunctional, as his wife has died and his son Mitsuo (Kaneko Nobuo) and daughter-in-law Kazue (Seki Kyôko) are primarily concerned with getting their hands on Watanabe’s retirement bonus. It is a trip to the doctor’s office that finally prompts Watanabe to set a different course; he decides to truly embrace life before his time expires. In his final months, Watanabe toils to leave behind an appropriate and meaningful legacy, and at the wake following Watanabe’s inevitable death his friends and co-workers gather to evaluate Watanabe’s inspirational reversal.

Ikiru’s strength lies in its exploration of two related themes: the value of living a life with purpose, and the distracting and dehumanizing trappings of modernity. In the film, the problems associated with modernity are manifested in both the byzantine local government and the consumerism that dominates the concerns of Watanabe’s son and daughter-in-law. At the beginning of the film, a narrator accurately sums up Watanabe’s existence by saying that “he’s simply passing the time without living his life. In other words, he’s not even really alive.” In thirty years, Watanabe hasn’t made any significant contribution to society, and those in positions of power, such as the town’s deputy mayor, are only willing to help others if it is the politically expedient thing to do. Watanabe’s son and daughter-in-law are similarly self-centred; they wear Western clothes, listen to Western music, complain about traditional Japanese houses, and conspire to use Watanabe’s pension in order to make a down payment on a modern home. Kurosawa’s film is subtle, however, in that their predilection towards modern and Western surroundings is not inherently bad, but rather is symptomatic of their greed and their abandonment of purposeful lives. Soon after learning of his terminal illness, Watanabe meets a young writer and himself dabbles in youthful and West-inspired culture. While this is a departure from Watanabe’s regimented former life, drinking and witnessing a striptease winds up being no more fulfilling because it remains bereft of tangible purpose.

A major turning point occurs the following morning, as Watanabe runs into a young woman, Odagiri Toya (Odagiri Miki), who used to work with him at the government office. Watanabe discovers that she has quit her job in order to pursue a new career, one that will allow her to contribute to the greater good: she helps to make wind-up toy bunnies for children. Immediately, she becomes a model of sorts for the new Watanabe Kanji; in a scant few months, she’s discovered the dehumanizing nature of bureaucratic work, which it took Watanabe thirty years and a terminal illness to discover for himself. As Watanabe works to improve himself and leave behind a meaningful legacy, Kurosawa’s mise-en-sc ène and camerawork cunningly mirror the changes in the character. Whereas early in the film static and more dimly-lit shots were the norm, the film’s cinematography takes a turn towards the beautiful, inventive, and spectacular. In place of dreary office settings are exterior locations (a brightly lit street, or a playground on a snowy evening), Kurosawa introduces far more extravagant camerawork and editing techniques, including a long crane shot as Watanabe and his writer friend enter a bar, a montage sequence as Watanabe and Toya enjoy themselves ice skating and going to the movies, and a gorgeous shot through a jungle gym as Watanabe rides on a children’s swingset. As with his previous film Rashômon (1950), Kurosawa also cagily manipulates the film’s narrative structure for thematic effect. Ikiru’s near fifty-minute epilogue shifts perspective from an omniscient point-of-view to a flashback-heavy profile of Watanabe’s final few months, as seen through the memories of the mourners at his wake. In short, the focus of the film shifts to the issue of legacy, and to the people whose lives were impacted by Watanabe’s good deeds.

While Ikiru’s life-affirming message is clear, it is to Kurosawa’s great credit that it doesn’t devolve into unrealistic schlock. While Watanabe is able to make major improvements in his life, some of his co-workers are unable to do the same, even after they spend time reflecting on Watanabe’s life (and death). Towards the end of the film, one co-worker returns to his meaningless bureaucratic life instead of taking positive action, his face becoming hidden from the camera behind a tower of paperwork. That, in summation, is Kurosawa’s brilliance: Ikiru is inspirational without being didactic, cinematically complex without distracting from its narrative nuance, and optimistic while tacking a potentially depressing subject. While Kurosawa may be better known to the general public for his samurai films, it is Ikiru that may well be his greatest legacy, the gift of a truly purposeful life.

Categories
drama, melodrama gendai-geki shomin-geki

“Osaka Elegy”: Family First or Societal Norms?

Osaka Elegy or Naniwa Ereji was a film directed by Mizoguchi Kenji and was considered his first attempt as a director. The film was released in 1936 and was a companion film to his second major work Sisters of the Gion, which was also released in the same year. Osaka Elegy received international interest and was later released in the United States in 1979. The main character, Murai Ayako, is played by Yamada Isuzu, who also starred as a main character in Sisters of the Gion, as Omocha. The genre or main theme of the film focuses on the struggles of women in society.

Osaka Elegy is a story that mainly revolves around its main character, Murai Ayako. Ayako is from a lower-class family who often suffers from financial trouble. The family relies heavily on Ayako’s income working as a telephone operator at Asai Pharmaceuticals; however, their financial situation worsens as her father embezzles three-hundred yen from work and they are unable to replace the money. The troubling situation causes Ayako to become her boss’, Mr. Asai’s, mistress in order to obtain the large amount of money quickly and clear her father’s name. Ayako’s life as a mistress seems extravagant compared to her old living conditions at home; however, it does not come without consequences as she is now limited to a secretive lifestyle, often staying at her new apartment waiting for Mr. Asai. Ayako’s life is restricted by her mistress identity as she bumps into Nishimura Susumu, a man she admires, while shopping for lipstick. Nishimura asks Ayako to marry him, however, Ayako is unable to tell him the truth about her secret life and leaves abruptly. As much as Ayako keeps her identity a secret, it is uncovered by their local doctor who responds to the wrong house call when Mr. Asai falls ill. The doctor shows up at the Asai residence instead of at Ayako’s apartment; therefore alerting Mr Asai’s wife to their forbidden relationship. After the truth is uncovered, Ayako is relieved from her mistress duties and she happily goes to find Nishimura to tell him she would like to marry him. However, on her commute to find Nishimura, she unexpectedly meets her sister and receives the news that her brother does not have enough money to keep studying. In order to obtain money for her brother, Ayako finds a new suitor, Fujiro Yoshizo, and cheats him out of his money. Even though her intentions for her brother are honourable, her scheming and deceiving manipulations are not acceptable and she pays the consequences when Fujiro takes his revenge.

The camerawork done by Mizoguchi is interesting and unique as he uses many far-away long-shots and stationary camera angles. Furthermore, Mizoguchi’s camerawork emphasizes the scenes and contributes to the narrative progression. He uses long, far-away camera angles and reserves close-ups for emphasizing people’s facial expressions and for building the intensity of the atmosphere. Scenes shot before approaching the Murai residence are illustrated with the dark outdoors and the long, narrow and cramped walkway, symbolizing how the family is trapped by money and society. Furthermore, every time Mizoguchi has a scene that is outdoors, it anticipates that the next scene will relate to her family’s financial trouble, otherwise, most scenes are shot indoors. In addition, scenes taken inside the Murai residence are often shot from a low angle, like the audience is sitting on the floor with the characters. The low floor shot emphasizes the cramped living conditions in their house as we can see the span of the whole room and the adjoining small kitchen. Contrast to shots taken at the Murai’s, scenes that are shot at Ayako’s new apartment are not taken from a floor perspective but are seen to be taken from a higher perspective, almost like viewers are looking down at Ayako’s everyday life. The higher camera angle emphasizes the large rooms and empty space available in Ayako’s new apartment, a definite contrast in living conditions. Mizoguchi’s camerawork contributes to the narrative progression of the story as he emphasizes certain important aspects with symbolic camera techniques.

Ayako’s character in the film develops from an innocent, shy, and responsible telephone operator to being a mistress who is aggressive, skilled, and manipulative. Her drastic change in character can be symbolized through the metamorphosis of her wardrobe. Before becoming Mr. Asai’s mistress, Ayako wears traditional Japanese kimono in line with the norms of society; however, as her role progresses Ayako can be seen wearing clothes that are modern and western-styled. At first, her change in attire is minimally different and can only be distinguished by her overcoats, however, as she becomes more assertive, learning how to manipulate men like Fujiro for money, her attire changes drastically as she adopts western-styled dresses and western-style hats. In the end of the film, she is seen to be using western make-up and smoking western cigars. Ayako’s character is rather complex and her transformation from genuine to manipulative is symbolized through her wardrobe.

Osaka Elegy is a prime example of a film that is centered on the struggles of women in society. Its underlying message of women being suppressed and controlled by a patriarchal society is both meaningful and interesting. Even though the storyline is rather simple — a girl who needs to raise money for her family becomes a mistress — it is not that simplistic, the story has a lot of significant underlying messages that can be analyzed and interpreted. Furthermore, not only does the storyline have a deeper meaning, but Ayako’s character also has many impressive aspects as she is a character with a lot of internal conflict. Although the story of Ayako is heartbreaking, it is definitely something worth watching.

Categories
anti-war drama, melodrama post-war

The Value of Lives Through Twenty-Four Eyes of Innocent Children

Kinoshita Keisuke’s Twenty-four Eyes (Nijyū yon no hitomi, 1954) is one of the most famous Japanese post-war classics alongside of Seven Samurai (Shichinin no samurai), directed by Kurosawa Akira. It was released in 1954 and won a Golden Glove Award in the foreign film category. This film was based on the novel “Twenty-four Eyes” written by Tsuboi Sakae and later remade into colour film in 1987 and then into a famous TV series in 2005. In this movie, Kinoshita inserts historical perspectives by depicting twenty years of devastating Japanese history, beginning in 1928 and continuing through post WWII. Kinoshita portrays this film as an anti- war drama, focusing on the actions and the interactions between the main characters, Ōishi Hisako and twelve school pupils (the twenty-four eyes), during turbulent years in Japan. The movie is portrayed alongside beautiful unchanged scenery of the Setonai Ocean while many nostalgic melodies are repeated over and over throughout the film. These nostalgic melodies with their changing styles and tempos help accentuate Kinoshita’s theme of pacifism.

The story primarily focuses on the interactions between teacher Ōishi Hisako (Takamie Hideko) and her twelve pupils and the community, as well as the struggles they face during two turbulent decades in Japan. The story begins with the arrival of a new teacher at a typical village school in a rural sea island called Shodoshima. The female teacher (Onago Sensei) first appears on the scene by riding a brand-new bike with western clothes on. At this time bikes were thought to be the high-class vehicles for men, so the modern look of this female teacher shocks the peasants in the remote community. Soon after her arrival, Mrs. Ōishi becomes the centre of gossip by villagers and arouses peasants’ antipathy due to her modern look and her unorthodox style of teaching. After Mrs. Ōishi becomes a teacher of the twelve first graders, she gets severely injured by her pupils’ prank, which eventually leads her to quit her village school. After Mrs. Ōishi had been gone for a long time, the twelve children decide to meet her since they regret what they have done and start to long for Mrs. Ōishi. It is at this point the community understands the true value of Mrs. Ōishi and see the children’s love toward her, which leads to reconciliation and acceptance of her into the community. Five years after this incident and the quitting of the village school, Mrs. Ōishi again gains a chance to teach, now adolescent pupils. However, around this time censorship was tightened and patristic militaristic ethos were being spread, so she is labelled a communist and decides to quite teaching. Again, time passes; Mrs. Ōishi and twelve children grow older and get intertwined in a devastating period, going through various hardships surrounded by economic depression, poverty and war. By the end of the movie, the children grow up to have their own kids and realize the happiness of peace as well as the sadness of loved ones who died in war and poverty.

Through the strongly held attitude and actions of Mrs. Ōishi and the dialogue held between Mrs. Ōishi and her pupils, Kinoshita enables the audience to grasp the theme, which emphasizes pacifism. Kinoshita inserts pro-peace and anti-war views by showing Mrs. Ōishi’s response toward the “Red Incident”. Despite the fact Mr. Kataoka, one of the teachers at Mrs. Ōishi’s school, gets arrested for writing an anti-war “Red” essay, Mrs. Ōishi still holds firm to her anti-war ideology. Regardless of the risk of getting arrested, she reads aloud Mr. Kataoka’s “Red” essay in class, and teaches children the importance of being alive. She goes as far as leaving her job as a teacher when the militaristic government restricts teachers to only teach patriarchal pro-war materials. Also, the simple dialogues and conversations between Mrs. Ōishi and her pupils help accentuate the stupidity of war. As the hue of anti war gets stronger, Mrs. Ōishi’s pupils become inspired to become soldiers and fight for the sake of the Empire of Japan. Mrs. Ōishi feels a deep sorrow upon hearing her students say being a soldier is their future dream. Instead of praising and being proud of their sacrifice for the nation and its people, she tells them that it is foolish to die for the nonsense of war. She also says she prefers to see them alive than to see them becoming a nation’s dead “hero”. In addition to Mrs. Ōishi’s pacifistic actions and attitudes, her joy at the termination of war directly brings the message of anti-war with the importance of peace. After hearing the emperor proclaiming the end of the war on the radio, she expresses joy by telling people that it is great not to see families and children suffer and die in war anymore while having a bittersweet feeling toward those who died. This happiness is in contrast to the sorrow of Japan’s loss in the war. This contradiction of joy and sorrow dramatises the idea of pacifism.

Kinoshita’s distinct choices and uses of music play into the sorrow of death, thus underlining the theme. Kinoshita employs various folktale songs and frequently changes the choice of songs and tempo depending on the emotions and perspective carried in the film. One of the conspicuous examples is the melody used during social changes. Since Shodoshima is a tiny remote island in Japan, the town itself did not receive much damage during the war as it is indicated by the unchanged beautiful scenery of the ocean and mountains. As well, the lives of peasants in Shodoshima remain unchanged during the Manchurian invasion except for the song choice played in the background. Here, Kinoshita inserts a sadder and slower song in comparison to other classics used earlier in the film, illustrating the grief and sadness directed toward the people who died in battle.

Kinoshita did an excellent job telling the horror of war and conveying the message of peace by depicting innocent children dying from war alongside melancholic music played in the film.

I think this film gives a misleading impression that Japan is a victim, not a perpetrator of war. By sentimentally depicting naïve and innocent children, who are passively forced to be involved in wars while omitting detailed information about the pupil’s willingness to fight for the war, Kinoshita fails to insert Japan’s factual position as a perpetrator in the war. As a result, the audience may get the mistaken impression that Japan was a victim of war. With basic knowledge about the background of the Pacific War, Twenty-four Eyes is enjoyable and educational for those who are interested in Japanese life during turbulent years as well as those who enjoy classical cinema.

Categories
drama, melodrama experimental thriller

Dunes of Darkness

Teshigahara Hiroshi’s Woman in the Dunes (Suna no Onna- 1964) is a surreal drama that uses the conventional captivity narrative to speak to contemporary social issues. The film could best be described as a contemporary drama, but the nature of the story is such of a thriller or a mystery. The film is an adaptation of the book of the same name by Kobo Abe, who also wrote the adaptation of the book for the screen. It stars well-known Japanese actor Eiji Okada as Niki Jumpei and Kyoko Kishida as the Woman. The film received critical acclaim when it was released, winning the Grand Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival and receiving an Academy Award nomination for Best Director.

The film opens with Niki Jumpei, a school teacher and entomologist, who goes to the barren seaside sand dunes on an expedition to find rare species of bugs. After missing the last bus back to his hotel, one of the villagers offers him a home to stay in for the night. He is dropped off in an unnamed woman’s home, located so deep in one of the sand dunes that a ladder is required to get down to it. The next day, Niki discovers that the offer of hospitality was in fact a ploy to find a male helper and mate for the woman, and he finds himself trapped in the sand dune with little hope of escape. Niki’s attempts to escape the sand dune fail and he remains trapped with the woman. We find out that the woman is under the control of the villagers, who require her to shove buckets of sand in exchange for water and food rations.  Due to their strange situation, the woman and Niki begin a sexual relationship. The Woman develops an intense sexual and emotional attachment to Niki, but his desire to return to his previous life persists. Niki does make one successful attempt at a getaway, but he is caught by the villagers who bring him back to the sand dune, an event that echoes the seeming permanency of his entrapment. Months pass before a series of events alter the future of Niki’s life in the dunes, and reveal a sharp alteration in his perspective.

Notable in the film is the way that Teshigahara creates atmosphere. The sand dunes are filmed in striking visuals that make them an overwhelming presence. Sand appears in the film in ways that give it symbolic and thematic meaning within the narrative. The introductory sequence in the film features a series of stationary shots of sand pebbles, at first in extreme close-up, cutting to reveal wider and wider shots of the sand until we see the whole mass of the dunes. The sharp stationary cuts bring attention to the sheer number and breadth of sand pebbles, suggest their uncontrollable power. When Niki enters the frame in the opening scenes he looks small in comparison to the foreboding and massive sand dunes around him. The sheer mass of the sand dunes rises up around him, blowing dust giving eerieness to this new environment. It serves to highlight the contrast between Niki’s former urban life in Tokyo and the harsh rural life he is soon to face. Sand also plays an important narrative role in the film. The futility of man against this wild and unpredictable form of nature is highlighted when Niki says: “This sand could swallow up entire cities, entire countries”. Although the sand is what is ultimately keeping Niki and the woman trapped and confined, we also find out that it helps to sustain them. We find out that the buckets of sand which the woman shovels and offers the villagers are ultimately sold to cities to make bricks for urban dwellings. Sand is used as a measure of control not only in the characters’ lives, but to help sustain the village economy as well. The sand also operates as somewhat of an allusion to the Buddhist tradition of creating and destroying sand mandalas, reflecting on the Buddhist belief of impermanence.

One of the questions the film poses centers on the ability of humans to exercise free will in modern society: is this freedom real or is it only an illusion that masks never-ending social confinement? This theme is mirrored by the different perspectives of Niki and the Woman. Niki’s entrapment is paralleled by the insects that he traps and collects at the beginning of the film. Just as Niki uses the insects for his own selfish purposes, the women and the villagers trap Niki to use him for labor and to help populate the community. At the beginning of the film Niki expresses a dissatisfaction with the ‘trappings’ of modern life in an internal monologue heard through voiceover. Despite this he still longs to return to his world of papers and certifications, which seems liberating in comparison with being trapped in a sand pit. Niki’s attitude is contrasted with that of the woman’s. The woman chooses to stay in village shoveling sand, as she feels more important in her life in the dunes than she would in regular society. Her reasons for staying in the dunes are revealed when she says “If it wasn’t for the sand, no one would bother about me”. For Niki the sand takes away his sense of purpose and meaning in life, but for the woman it constitutes it. Niki’s decision at the end of the film highlight this contrast between freedom and entrapment, and speaks to the true nature of free will.

Woman in the Dunes is a strange, absorbing mystery and a fascinating study of human character. The film cannot only be enjoyed for its human mystery, but as a visually stimulating experience in itself. The crisp black-and-white cinematography and moody lighting give viewers lucid and spellbinding visuals. Woman in the Dunes has often been described as ‘surrealist’ and would be a good film choice for viewers looking for an unconventional film that will challenge their expectations.

Categories
jidai-geki literary adaptations

Kurosawa Akira’s “Throne of Blood”

Director Kurosawa Akira’s 1957 release Kumonosu Jou (Throne of Blood) is a Japanese rendition of the famous Shakespeare play Macbeth.  The film, set possibly around the sengoku jidai (warring states period) of Japan in the 1500s, is easily classified in the jidai-geki (period piece) genre of Japanese cinema.  The name Kumonosu Jou literally means Spider’s Silk Castle, the name of the castle which the film revolves around, and in the film is translated as Cobweb Castle.  The film stars Mifune Toshirou as the Japanese Macbeth character Washizu Taketori, the commander of Fort One, and he has appeared in many other Kurosawa films such as Rashomon and Seven Samurai. His supporting cast includes Yamada Isuzu as his wife Washizu Asaji, Kubo Akira as Miki Yoshiteru, and Tachikawa Hiroshi as Lord Tsuzuki Kunimaru, the one murdered by Taketori.

The film’s story is quite a bit like Macbeth, however many aspects have been modified to conform to a Japanese setting.  Near the beginning of the film, Taketori and Yoshiteru, the commander of Fort Two, are on their way to Cobweb Castle through Cobweb Forest after a victory over a rebellion against Lord Tsuzuki.  While in the forest, they run into a ghost woman, who tells Taketori that he will become the Lord of Cobweb Castle, and Yoshiteru that he will be commander of Fort One.  In Macbeth, the one who tells Macbeth about his future is actually a witch, not a ghost.  Taketori and Yoshiteru finally reach Cobweb Castle, where they are both given promotions that were prophesied by the ghost.  Taketori eventually tells his wife, who, following the same story as Macbeth, convinces him that Yoshiteru is going to tell Lord Tsuzuki, and that Taketori has to kill Lord Tsuzuki first and take Cobweb Castle despite a lack of evidence to back up her claims.  Taketori kills Lord Tsuzuki, takes the castle, and prepares to fight the commanders of the other forts, bringing the film to a dramatic close as the enemy troops draw near to the castle.

Taketori’s character is initially one of the good, loyal samurai one imagines when one thinks of bushidō.  He is filial to his Lord, and a strong and disciplined warrior.  After the ghost predicts his ascension to Lord of Cobweb Castle, he laughs it off.  When his wife first starts suggesting to him that Yoshiteru could betray him, he dismisses her and declares that Yoshiteru is one of his closest friends and that Tokiteru couldn’t imagine betraying his Lord.  The development of his character, however, reveals him to be a rather weak-minded man.  Washizu Asaji, his wife, presses the idea that Yoshiteru could betray him, and thanks to circumstances are several points in the film succeeds in having Tokiteru take the next step towards taking Cobweb Castle.  The first time they have a conversation on the topic, Asaji tells Tokiteru that Yoshiteru has already told Lord Tsuzuki, and that the Lord will come with an army to surround the North Mansion to which Tokiteru has been granted control.  Soon afterwards, Lord Tsuzuki arrives with an army and claims that he will use the North Mansion to conduct offensives against a rebellious commander.  Tokiteru is struck by the coincidence and persuaded by his wife, and Asaji uses the opportunity to convince Tokiteru to make his move on killing the Lord.  The situation reflects the ephemerality inherent in the everyday life of a soldier and the shifting power structure during the sengoku jidai, and the character of Tokiteru is developed into a fickle and weak-minded leader relying on the strength of others for his own confidence rather than the strength of his leadership.

Kumonosu Jou opens with a lone samurai on a horse riding to the gate of Cobweb Castle.  As the lone rider is viewed in this long-shot, the size of the castle is established over the single rider, making the horseman seem small and insignificant compared to the size and power the castle seems to have.  Being a film dealing with politics and high level power relationships, the shot perfectly establishes the relationship between man and the castle as one of men being insignificant to the lasting survival of the castle.  The film also employs a large amount of close up and medium shots on Taketori when there is a banquet after Taketori has taken Cobweb Castle.  During the banquet, the ghost of the recently assassinated Yoshiteru Miki appears several times, but only so that Taketori can see him.  The close-up shots are employed in order to display the expressions of horror on Taketori’s face, as well as to give the viewer the impression of a man going mad.  The medium shots are generally employed from the side, where the other guests might have been sitting, in order to give the viewer an idea what the banquetgoers’ view of their crazed host is like, giving the film’s viewer both a 1st person and a 3rd person view of the effects of Taketori’s growing madness.

Kumonosu Jou is a film that captures well the spirit of Macbeth while transforming it into a film that fits the Japanese medieval period as well as Japanese sensibilities by modifying areas where necessary, such as the transition from witch to woman ghost, to be receptive to a Japanese audience.  There were many parallels that were worked in with the film, such as mist over the ground and in the forest, such as mist is often portrayed on the moors of Scotland.  The woman ghost that Taketori meets is even surrounded by mist.  As a film it does a great job of appealing to both those who are familiar with Macbeth while at the same time presenting it to its principally Japanese audience who may not be familiar with the work in a way that’s simply entertaining and fun.  I would recommend this film to those interested in Japanese films.

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