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View Full Version : I did it all for the admin (Stay Puft vs. Kenji Mizoguchi)



Stay Puft
03-13-2008, 06:40 AM
This is the 8th best film of all time, according to Raiders, our benevolent admin.

Ugetsu monogatari /
Tales of a Pale and Mysterious Moon after the Rain

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EDIT: There are spoilers! I forgot to mention that.

Ugetsu plays as a cautionary tale of self-absorption and self-interest, and a critique of the dehumanizing effects of war. The narrative features two plots: Genjuro and his desire to become rich, and Tobei and his desire to become a samurai. Through a series of self-serving choices, both deny the lives of their loved ones, abandoning them to death and ruin. The tragedy is one of myopia. Genjuro and Tobei think they are ultimately helping their families, or at least justify their actions as such (and certainly we see Genjuro thinking often of his wife while making his money abroad), but they are too shortsighted to see the lasting damage they could (and ultimately do) cause through their actions.

Ugetsu is a rigorously plotted film, with exceptional care given to the overall structure and the specific details of each scene. Every scene reinforces the film’s thematic goals. We see troops ransacking a house for food, each fighting the other and shouting “It’s mine!” and variations therein, scrambling and fighting to perpetuate their own individual existence even against the lives of their own comrades. Miyagi is eventually killed by the troops employed to guard the road. They rob her of her food and randomly kill her with utter indifference. As she crawls away in the foreground, eventually collapsing, we see the two troops in the background, scrambling over each other and falling to the ground, devouring their food like animals (this scene is reversed in the final shot of the film).

Much has been said about the ghost. Herself a victim of civil war (“That damn Nobunaga Oda,” says the nursemaid), it is perhaps understandable that some readings will be sympathetic. But this is where Kenji Mizoguchi plays his best hand, employing the conventions of a ghost story to navigate the tragic depths of solipsism and myopia expressed in the surrounding scenes of the film. Lady Wakasa is a seductress, a ghost who violates natural order with purely self-interested motivations. Robbed of a full life, she attempts to rob life from those still living, victimizing those who, like her, are themselves already victims of civil war. As the exorcist who meets Genjuro warns him, there is only evil and death to be found at the castle. The exorcist is the plainspeaker of the story, but while he arrives in time to save Genjuro’s life, the message arrives much too late for Genjuro to save his wife.

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I can appreciate any reaction to the film that, well, does not appreciate Mizoguchi’s didacticism. This applies not only to pointed exposition but even some of his images, such as the final shot. A reversal of the aforementioned murder scene, we see the grave of Miyagi in the foreground, with her son saying a prayer, and the camera raises to bring the background into focus, revealing two farmers working the land, growing their own food. It is an idyllic ending, with characters realizing their essential selves and learning Big Life Lessons (replete with narration from Miyagi’s ghost, herself a reversal of Lady Wakasa, a devotion to others proving stronger than a devotion to the self). It is a nice ending, in terms of structure and narrative resolution, but it does not sit well with me.

But never mind that, right? The important thing is style, and glowing gravy if this isn’t a brilliant execution of mood and atmosphere. From the expressive lighting to the wonderful use of music and the expert staging, Kenji Mizoguchi proves himself a formidable talent. (This is an established fact, apparently, but I am just now learning for myself.) Take the first scene in the castle, the first formal meeting between Genjuro and Lady Wakasa. First to enter the castle are not the characters but their shadows. The camera drifts across the outer boundaries of the castle, following the characters as they enter, and then repeats this motion across the inner area, as Genjuro is lead to a room and bid to wait. The nursemaid steps into the shadows and disappears. The inner area of the castle is shrouded in darkness, the music quietly underscoring the slow action with a repeated bell chime. Genjuro waits, and the music rises as he spies servants moving across the way, lighting candles. Slowly, each area is lit up, and wind instruments are heard as Lady Wakasa’s shadow enters the room, followed by Lady Wakasa shrouded in darkness, slowly stepping into the light. The bell chime continues at a regular interval, now acting as an ominous drone punctuating the silence and dramatic tension.

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As the scene unfolds, both Genjuro and the camera are cast under Lady Wakasa’s spell. As she bids him to enter the next room, the camera slowly wanders in, mimicking the hesitant movement of Genjuro. As Genjuro bows to the floor out of respect for Lady Wakasa’s class, so too does the camera point to the ground. The bell chime continues still at a regular interval, at this point making the entire proceedings right fucking creepy. Suddenly, the nursemaid suggests that Genjuro declare his love and agree to marry Lady Wakasa. Surprised, Genjuro attempts to back away, and so does the camera, fleeing in the opposite direction. But too late. String and wind instruments join together on the soundtrack and paint a dreamlike melody. As Lady Wakasa wraps herself around Genjuro, so too is the camera drawn in, wrapping close around the characters and capturing one of the few close-ups in the entire movie, the devilish grin of Lady Wakasa as she releases Genjuro, who collapses, breath seen escaping his body, into the arms of servants. Throughout the following scenes, Genjuro rarely speaks, entranced as he is under the spell, watching Lady Wakasa. And we, too, watch, drawn in further and further.

Kenji Mizoguchi, you glorious son of a bitch. What a movie!

Stay Puft
03-13-2008, 06:51 AM
Ah, I forgot to explain the significance of the shadows preceding the characters as they move through the castle. Not that it isn't obvious, but I wanted to make the point that it was an excellent visual strategy indicating that Genjuro has entered a world where shadows precede form, that is another example of the way the expressive lighting and other elements such as the music (e.g. the ominous droning chimes) work together and foreshadow (hahahaha so awesome) the revelations that occur in the final stretch of the film.

Pretend I threw that in the original review somewhere.

Stay Puft
08-26-2009, 04:13 AM
Seventeen months later, I return to consider:

Saikaku ichidai onna /
The Life of Oharu

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I don't feel I have as much to say about this one, but to begin with a consideration of a brief passage from my Ugetsu thoughts...


From the expressive lighting to the wonderful use of music and the expert staging, Kenji Mizoguchi proves himself a formidable talent.

This is every bit as true for Oharu. I do not think I appreciate the film as a whole in quite the same way I do Ugetsu, but there are aspects of this film that I love as much so if not more.

I still found his use of dialogue superficial or redundant at times, but this is mostly during the needless, expository opening sequences. Perhaps this is more personal taste as well, but I fail to understand the significance of the opening chapter, when we're just going to be returning there in less than two hours time. And, as such, it's not going to tell us anything we're not going to find out in the subsequent fifteen minutes, rendering the entire thing as expository dead weight. Dramatically, we gain nothing, as the emotional weight of the film's powerful closing chapters are the product of a cumulative, linear narrative experience (Oharu's lived experience, rendered as a narrative). I don't see how the apparent segue down memory lane is supposed to reveal anything other than its own conventional narrative contrivance.

But, anyways. This is otherwise, again, powerful filmmaking from an apparent master. It stands in sharp contrast to anything I've been watching recently in the complexity of its visual, auditory and narrative choreography. Moreso than Ugetsu at times, it is a film with great lengths of silence, as Mizoguchi often lets his images speak for themselves, only rarely stumbling into ineffective didacticism (like that unfortunate moment that introduces Toshiro Mifune's character; a little too transparent there, guy, but otherwise a great supporting performance). This is a film of pure economy; every shot is exactly as long as it needs to be, and it achieves such powerful narrative and emotional resonance that it is easy to forget you might be watching a single, complex, uninterrupted shot lasting minutes. It takes the time - even and often in the span of a single shot - to develop a complex interplay of narrative action, character drama, emotion, and even humor.

Take that fantastic scene of the messenger who has arrived to find a new concubine for his Lord. In a single shot, a large group of potential candidates are arranged and the messenger walks through the entire group, examing individuals, comparing to his notes, conversing with his hosts, etc. A single shot with a complex narrative arc, relaying a plethora of information. It is a great character moment, not simply for the messenger, as his exasperation and particularity to detail reveal an interesting contradiction (here is a poet's truth), but also for the as yet to be introduced Lord, as the increasing absurdity of the situation and the literal visual scope of the congregation of concubines reveals, intuitively, another bewilderingly human contradiction, peculiar in its way to the Lord's status and wealth. All of the film's themes of idealism and materialism and integrity and social injustice (and class) are congregating in this single shot, like a mass of concubines on the screen. See how the other characters swim around the messenger, so ridiculously eager to serve and please, particularly that goofy dude who carries around the painting. It's funny, but it's not necessarily scathing, either. This is most important for this particular shot's success; it propels the basic narrative and becomes increasingly funny the longer it lasts. It reveals an endless absurdity to the situation that characterizes much of the film's gentle humor. It is this particular trait that I cherish above all else in this film.

I must draw specific attention, again, to the soundtrack. First, to disuss that powerful ending. Specifically that sequence, and stop reading here if you want to avoid spoilers, wherein Oharu discovers her son has become the new Lord and travels to see him. Unfortunately for Oharu, events in her past will not allow her to be publicly associated with the clan, so she is allowed merely to glimpse her son as a farewell bidding, and then must go into retirement. The film, as a whole, has a decent musical score, but in this near final scene, the accompaniment of music with the dramatic developments reaches perfection (okay, so excuse my superlatives, but this is me getting really excited about movies, it's the best you get from me and not often at that). The way her son is briefly glimpsed in the foreground, while Oharu scurries around in the background moving left to right to try to follow her son, see him more clearly, get close to him, is not simply emotionally powerful, or aesthetically pleasing, but also, again, smartly staged in such a way to visually communicate the distance between the two, the class status that divides these and so many other characters in the film, as well as the specific plight that Oharu endures as an entire narrative movement, diminished, cut off, but always determined, never wavering.

Second, another particularly powerful scene near the end, wherein Oharu apparently glimpses her child being carried down the road. At first we have only diegetic music on the soundtrack, but as Oharu glimpses the procession and draws near, the entire soundtrack cuts out. No sound at all. It is as if the film itself is holding its breath in anticipation. As Oharu withdraws, eventually the soundtrack returns with musical accompaniment. The entire scene, as I recall, is comprised of two long shots and one brief close-up of the child. It is a fantastic sequence, and a great example of Mizoguchi's attention to details both visual and auditory, and his expressive use of the cinematic language to communicate so much with so seeming little.

Stay Puft
08-26-2009, 04:29 AM
And, yeesh, it looks like tinypic destroyed half of my Ugetsu pictures. I don't have them anymore so I can't re-upload them. :sad:

Also, I'm thinking of arbitrarily fashioning this thread into an extensive writing project about my Mizoguchi viewings (already have a convenient thread title) even though, as I recall, this was just a film swap review thread for Ugetsu. As such, and in keeping with the spirit of the thread's progeneration, I will formally and abritrarily bring this writing project to a close when I watch and view The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums, which is the Mizoguchi film Raiders recommended I watch years and years ago on RT (not in a film swap related capacity).

As such, at the current going rate at which I am viewing Mizoguchi films (one every seventeen months), this project could last at least another seventeen months, should I choose to simply end it by making Chrysanthemums my next viewing, or it could last as long as 1564 months, given three factors:

1. I attempt every single film listed on imdb before Chrysanthemums.
2. Every single film listed on imdb still exists and is available.
3. The technological singularity, or at the very least, significant advances in the field of medicine that will substantially prolong life.

baby doll
08-26-2009, 04:44 AM
1. I attempt every single film listed on imdb before Chrysanthemums.
2. Every single film listed on imdb still exists and is available.No, most of them are lost. But check out Sisters of the Gion and Osaka Elegy (both 1936). They both exist, they're both on DVD, and they both rock.

soitgoes...
08-26-2009, 05:36 AM
1. I attempt every single film listed on imdb before Chrysanthemums.
2. Every single film listed on imdb still exists and is available.
3. The technological singularity, or at the very least, significant advances in the field of medicine that will substantially prolong life.

Yeah, good news for you. You only have 10 or so films pre-Late Chrysanthemums that are extant to see. Yay firebombing! So thats only 14 years or so to get through his early stuff. ;)

Baby Doll is right about the two that are musts. There are probably others, but they are unseen, as of now, by me. His 50s work is riddled with greatness. I still feel he isn't as "great" as some of his contemporaries though. I do see what others see in him. For me he seems technically great, but his films don't resonate with me emotionally as much as Ozu/Kurosawa/Naruse.

Stay Puft
08-26-2009, 08:03 AM
Having read next to nothing about Mizoguchi, I could assume many of his early stuff would be lost for the obvious reasons, but damn, that is a lot. To see that he made a Lupin film, for example, and then to see that it is gone, is frustrating. That could have been interesting! I also want to assume many of those must have been shorts, because my brain refuses to accept that you could release eleven features in a year for two years running (and ten on the third!).

Anyways, I do currently have a copy of Chrysanthemums, and I also obtained Straits of Love and Hate and Portrait of Madame Yuki from KG. I'll seek out Sisters of the Gion and Osaka Elegy, so thanks for the recommendations.

Stay Puft
08-26-2009, 08:11 AM
I still feel he isn't as "great" as some of his contemporaries though. I do see what others see in him. For me he seems technically great, but his films don't resonate with me emotionally as much as Ozu/Kurosawa/Naruse.

I've only seen two from Ozu and one from Naruse, and now two from Mizoguchi. So far, I am enamored most with Mizoguchi's style (generally speaking), but for sheer emotional resonance, my introduction to Naruse, Wife! Be Like a Rose!, certainly tops all (currently in my top five of first viewings for the year, above Oharu, fwiw). It packs a direct punch like nothing I've seen. Mizoguchi's two films, even given his obvious talents, still have some problems that hold them back a bit for me.

soitgoes...
08-26-2009, 10:24 AM
Having read next to nothing about Mizoguchi, I could assume many of his early stuff would be lost for the obvious reasons, but damn, that is a lot. To see that he made a Lupin film, for example, and then to see that it is gone, is frustrating. That could have been interesting! I also want to assume many of those must have been shorts, because my brain refuses to accept that you could release eleven features in a year for two years running (and ten on the third!).
I'm sure most of his early stuff is only interesting from a historical standpoint. Japanese cinema was still transforming from static kabuki-like productions, with men still playing the female roles, and very little creative license for the directors to something more akin to what we're used to seeing today. That's not to say something in those 50 pre-1930 films he made couldn't have been great. Still, the 90% of all Japanese films pre-WWII that are lost is sad.


Anyways, I do currently have a copy of Chrysanthemums, and I also obtained Straits of Love and Hate and Portrait of Madame Yuki from KG. I'll seek out Sisters of the Gion and Osaka Elegy, so thanks for the recommendations.
If you can, check out Crucified Lovers. It's my favorite.