Yotsuya kaidan - Oiwa no borei / 四谷怪談 お岩の亡霊 (‘Yotsuya kaidan: The Ghost of Oiwa,’1969)

Obscure Japanese Film #233

 

Kei Sato

 

This Daiei production was the seventh post-war film version of Japan’s most famous ghost story and the last made for the cinema until 1981. Coming just four years after Shiro Toyoda’s adaptation (known in English as Illusion of Blood), this one may have felt somewhat unnecessary, but it does add a couple of new twists and turns out to be surprisingly good. For those unfamiliar with the story, it concerns Iemon, a masterless samurai married to Oiwa and struggling to get by. When an opportunity to better his situation presents itself, he’s only too willing to take it even if it means poisoning his wife so that he can marry another woman (I’ll leave you to guess the rest). 

 

Tatsuya Nakadai had starred in the previous film, whereas here it’s his former classmate from the Haiyuza theatre school, Kei Sato, who may be the most cold-blooded Iemon of them all. This is partly down to the perfectly-cast Sato’s almost reptilian performance, but also the script, as I think this is the only version in which he knows in advance that the poison will disfigure his wife. Iemon is also clearly not haunted by guilt in this one, so the ghosts cannot be interpreted as a manifestation of his conscience. 

 

Sonosuke Sawamura and Sato

Fortunately, Sato is not the sort to overact, although the same cannot be said of certain members of the supporting cast, especially Sonosuke Sawamura, who plays the masseur, Takuetsu. The other major role, of course, is that of Oiwa herself, but though it may be a famous part, in many ways it’s not a very appealing one for an actress – in most versions, Oiwa is initially little more than a doormat for Iemon to wipe his feet upon, then a messy make-up job makes her look hideous and finally she just has to jump out of dark corners as a ghost and cackle maniacally. Despite this, Kinuyo Tanaka and Mariko Okada – both big stars – had played her in the past, but in this case it’s Kazuko Inano, a theatre actress who had made other films but was not a film star. She does a decent enough job here, but it’s Sato’s performance you’ll be more likely to remember. 

 

Kazuko Inano

 

The director of this version was Kazuo Mori, a veteran who had made his first film in 1936 and directed the previously-reviewed Suzakumon (1957) and The Saga of Tanegashima (1968). He was an above-average if not exceptional talent, and his choices here are mostly good ones (although the green fireball spirits that feature in one scene are more cute than scary). The film seems rather murkily photographed, which made me wonder whether the struggling Daiei studios were trying to save on electricity at the time by restricting the lighting available (I had similar thoughts about the studio’s 1968 picture The Pit of Death). On the other hand, this could equally have been an artistic choice, and it is one that would make sense as the story takes place in the days before electric light, In any case, it certainly suits the film, which also benefits from excellent sets and costumes as well as camerawork. 

 

Jun Hamamura pops up as one of Iemon's victims

Perhaps the real star of the show here, though, is the wonderfully atmospheric score by Ichiro Saito, which features a combination of furiously-strummed shamisen, a string section, single bass notes and ominous rumbling sounds, all of which is subtly effective and adds considerably to the feeling of unease. 

 

 

AKA The Oiwa Phantom / The Curse of the Ghost / The Curse of the Night, etc

DVD at Amazon Japan 

English subtitles at Open Subtitles 

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Clouds at Sunset / あかね雲 / Akane-gumo (1967)

Obscure Japanese Film #169

Shima Iwashita

 

1937. After a prologue in which we see two soldiers deserting – one of whom is quickly captured – the story moves to Wajima, Ishikawa Prefecture. Matsuno (Shima Iwashita) is a 19-year-old virgin working as a maid at an inn, where she is best friends with another maid, the older and more experienced Ritsuko (Mayumi Ogawa). When Ritsuko leaves for a better-paid job as a hostess in Yamashiro Onsen 150 kilometres to the south, she invites Matsuno to go with her, but Matsuno decides to stay behind for the time being. 

 

Mayumi Ogawa

Tsutomu Yamazaki

She then meets Kosugi (Tsutomu Yamazaki), a kindly travelling salesman who stays at the inn where she works for a few nights. When she learns that he will also be going on to Yamashiro and can help her find a job there, Matsuno decides to join Ritsuko after all. However, she’s unaware that Kosugi has deserted from the army and has a dogged military policeman (Kei Sato) on his trail… 

Kei Sato

 

Clouds at Sunset was based on an untranslated 1964 novel of the same name by Tsutomu Mizukami (or Minakami), whose work formed the basis for a number of interesting films, including The Temple of Wild Geese, Bamboo Doll of Echizen, A Story from Echigo, A Fugitive from the Past and Lake of Tears. Like the latter two, the film was adapted for the screen by Naoyuki Suzuki, a famously uncompromising screenwriter who frequently collaborated with Tomu Uchida and had won two awards for A Fugitive from the Past. 

 

Directed by Masahiro Shinoda, like many of his films, Clouds at Sunset stars his wife, Shima Iwashita (in fact, the two are still married at the time of writing, aged 93 and 84 respectively). 26 years old when the film was made, she is nevertheless thoroughly convincing as the young and innocent Matsuno and won both the Kinema Junpo and Mainichi Film Concours awards for Best Actress for her performances in this and Portrait of Chieko. The other principals are also good, especially Mayumi Ogawa as her protective older friend (whom chance always seems to make unavailable at the crucial moment!). 

 

As played by Tsutomu Yamazaki (the kidnapper from Kurosawa’s High and Low), Kosugi never comes across like the scumbag one would expect considering the despicable way he later uses Matsuno to save his own skin. It’s made clear that he does this out of desperation rather than malevolence, and Matsuno continues to love him anyway. Somehow, this escapes feeling like the usual dubious male fantasy and Shinoda wisely leaves it open to question whether Matsuno is merely hopelessly naïve or is actually the only one perceptive enough to recognise Kosugi’s better nature.

 

Although distributed by Shochiku, the company for whom Shinoda had been under contract until 1966, the film was the first independent production by Hyogen-sha, Shinoda’s own company. All the more reason, then, to wonder why this excellent film came to fall through the cracks and become perhaps the least-seen of Shinoda’s works in recent years.

Aesthetically, the film looks and sounds great thanks to its subtle Toru Takemitsu score and the often beautiful cinematography of Masao Kosugi which, appropriately, bursts into colour at each sunset.

Thanks to A.K.

 

Women and Miso Soup / 女と味噌汁 / Onna to misoshiru (1968)

Obscure Japanese Film #139

Junko Ikeuchi

Chikako (Junko Ikeuchi) is a geisha who works under the name of Temari. Such an occupation gives her a very low social status, but she has managed to retain her self-respect, restricting herself to entertaining her customers and not sleeping with them as some do. However, though she never allows herself to indulge in self-pity, Chikako is not entirely satisfied with her lot and wants to become less dependent on the whims of men. As she always receives compliments for the miso soup she makes based on her grandmother’s recipe, she decides to start a small business selling the soup and accompaniments from a mobile van.

Kei Sato

 

Kunie Tanaka

Attending a class reunion, she reconnects with some old school friends: Murata (Kei Sato), a self-confident and apparently successful businessman; Ogawa (Kunei Tanaka), who makes a modest living carrying on his father’s occupation of making geta (traditional wooden sandals); and Kazuyo (Etsuko Ichihara), who has four children and another on the way and is forced to supplement her husband’s income by trying to sell life insurance on commission. 

Keizo Kawasaki

 

Murata and Ogawa both seem keen to be more than just friends with Chikako, but she’s more interested in Kiritani (Keizo Kawasaki), a salaryman she meets while working. However, this is a world in which even the nice guys shouldn’t be entirely trusted…

Aiko Nagayama

 

Another incident which complicates Chikako’s life is the unexpected arrival of a half-brother she didn’t know she had, Tomoichiro (Masakazu Tamura), who is studying to be a doctor. Chikako’s young friend and colleague Komomo (Aiko Nagayama) falls in love with him, but when Tomoichiro and Komomo begin talking of marriage, Chikako finds herself reacting with resentment at the idea of her brother marrying a lowly geisha. Having suffered from spending her own life in a society where the most important thing is what other people think of you, her kneejerk reaction is hypocritical, but – to her credit – she comes to realise this.

 

This Tokyo Eiga production was based on a 1965 novel by Yumie Hiraiwa which had already been successfully adapted for TV in a version which also starred Junko Ikeuchi and Aiko Nagayama in the same roles. Although Women and Miso Soup is the sort of character-driven comedy-drama that had largely disappeared from the big screen in Japan by 1968, and is also the last live-action feature film* by director Heinosuke Gosho (then 65), surprisingly it doesn’t feel like an 'old man’s movie' at all. Admittedly, there is one character, Ogawa’s father (Eijiro Tono), who complains about the ‘youth of today’ at some length but, while he may have a point in some of the things he says, he’s basically portrayed as a grumpy old git. In regard to the younger generation, Komomo and Chikako’s other young female friend, Kikuko (Akemi Kita), may initially seem vacuous, but the film softens its attitude towards them as it progresses. A scene which occurs late in the film has them dancing to rock music from a transistor radio at the beach as Chikako looks on and smiles approvingly, implying that this is a perfectly valid way to enjoy their time. While the film certainly celebrates the traditional aspects of Japanese life, other scenes show that the young are perfectly capable of appreciating these too if given the chance. 

 

Headed by Beast Alley’s Junko Ikeuchi and filled out mainly by members of the Haiyuza theatre company, the cast give strong performances all round and make the most of an intelligent script in which, refreshingly, scenes do not always play out in the way one might expect (e.g. the confrontation scene between Chikako and a certain character’s wife). And while this may not be a film to wow you with its camerawork particularly, Gosho’s co-ordination of his actors is impressive and shows that he still had a sure hand.

*Gosho made an animated feature film using puppets shortly after this one and later a half-hour documentary before passing away in 1981.

The Great Villains / 大悪党 / Dai akuto (1968)

Obscure Japanese Film #111

Mako Midori and Kei Sato

 

Yoshiko (Mako Midori) is a naïve country girl now living in Tokyo as a student. As she doesn’t believe in sex before marriage, her boyfriend gets frustrated and dumps her at a bowling alley. Seeing her left alone, Yakuza scumbag Yasui (Kei Sato) seizes the opportunity and slithers over to her. He takes her to a bar where he slips her a spiked drink, then takes her back to his apartment, rapes her and photographs her naked while she’s unconscious. When she awakes the next morning, he’s still asleep, so she leaves quietly, but within a few days he arrives at her apartment and shows her the photos, threatening blackmail. However, he offers to give her the negatives and all copies if she will sleep with pop idol Teruo Shima (Isao Kuraishi), explaining that Shima will pay him for providing a beautiful woman he can have no-strings sex with. Having no other choice, Yoshiko agrees but, when she goes to meet Shima, Yasui is hiding in the apartment filming them. Although Yasui keeps his promise and returns the photos and negatives to Yoshiko, she now has the film to worry about instead. Meanwhile, Yasui pays a visit to Shima to blackmail him, but Shima’s manager (Asao Uchida) hires unscrupulous lawyer Tokuda (Jiro Tamiya) to make the problem go away. Yasui finds that Tokuda is not easily intimidated – has  he finally met his match? 

Jiro Tamiya and Mako Midori

 

This Daiei production was based on the novel Akutoku bengoshi (‘Unscrupulous Lawyer’) by Masaya Maruyama (1926-2004), who also provided the source material for director Yasuzo Masumura’s A Wife Confesses (1961). The fact that Maruyama was himself a lawyer is unsurprising considering that Tokuda’s legal shenanigans in the film seem unusually well thought-out, even if certain other aspects of the story do not entirely convince, such as Yoshiko’s rather sudden transition at the end. Some of the violence is not terribly convincing either, and we have scenes of slapping where there is clearly no contact but the patented sound of what sounds like a whiplash on sheet metal is dubbed on.

It’s impossible not to feel sympathy for Yoshiko, which begs the question of whether the police would really be as rough on a woman in such circumstances as they are here. Even Yoshiko’s mother seems to care little for her daughter’s welfare, and is far more concerned that Yoshiko has disgraced the family. It’s debatable to what extent these elements reflect real cultural differences or are clichés common to Japanese drama – certainly, similar scenes can be found in many other Japanese films of the era.

Although not one of Yasuzo Masumura’s most impressive films, The Great Villains has a compelling story and three strong lead performances, with Jiro Tamiya in another of the slippery manipulator roles he played so well and Kei Sato resisting the temptation to chew the scenery as one of the most loathsome characters I’ve seen in a film for some time. Mako Midori, who resembles Mie Kitahara here, has probably the most difficult role and uses her eyes and body language most effectively in a part which gives her only limited opportunities for dialogue. She had just been fired from Toei at the time for complaining about the types of roles she was being obliged to play; she later went on to star in Masumura’s Blind Beast (1969).

The surprisingly stately classical music score by Tadashi Yamauchi suggests an attempt to lend the film both class and gravity, although Daiei’s dwindling budgets at the time are evident in the almost anonymous supporting cast and the fact that the work of Masumura’s regular cameraman Setsuo Kobayashi is less impressive than usual. Nevertheless, this is good second-tier Masumura worth seeking out for fans of the director, the three stars or Japanese crime dramas in general. 

 

Note on the title: As there are no plurals in Japanese, it is debatable whether the title should be translated as The Great Villains or The Great Villain. Perhaps because the film is also known as The Evil Trio, whoever gave the film its English title has chosen the plural version. However, while the character of Yasui clearly qualifies as a villain and this term could also be applied to that of Tokuda, it certainly doesn’t fit Yoshiko unless intended ironically.