The School of Flesh / 肉体の学校 / Nikutai no gakko (1965)

Kyoko Kishida

 

Taeko (Kyoko ‘Woman of the Dunes’ Kishida) is a wealthy, aristocratic and self-confident Tokyo fashion designer who visits a gay bar, where she is attracted to younger, proletarian bartender Senkichi (Tsutomu Yamazaki, the kidnapper from High and Low), whom she asks out on a date. The rumour that he’ll sleep with absolutely anyone for money fails to put her off, but she’s taken aback when he turns up wearing geta (wooden sandals), chews with his mouth open and takes her to a pachinko parlour, but she soon gets over it and the two embark on a relationship. However, when her friends ask her if Senkichi is kind to her, she realises that she can’t think of a single example of his showing such a quality and begins to feel somewhat insecure in their relationship. But it turns out that Senkichi is actually far more conventional than he pretends to be…

 

Tsutomu Yamazaki

 

This Toho production was based on a novel of the same name by Yukio Mishima first published in 1963 in serial form in a magazine called Mademoiselle. Although it has yet to be translated into English,* this appears to be a very faithful adaptation and Mishima is on record as being highly pleased with it. The author’s obsession with physical beauty and the psychology of infatuation are much in evidence, but the protagonists are both hard to like and I can’t say that I personally found the story very engaging. Most of the drama comes from the shifting balance of power in their relationship.

 

What really makes this film worth seeing, however, is the striking visual style that director Ryo Kinoshita (b.1931) and his cameraman Yuzuru Aizawa (who also shot The Bad Sleep Well) bring to it. Kinoshita was a former assistant to Yuzu Kawashima (and no relation to Keisuke Kinoshita as far as I’m aware). The rest of his brief filmography looks pretty routine, but he was one of those directors whose career began a little too late, leaving him few opportunities to show what he could do for the cinema before he was forced to move into television instead. In fact, part of the reason for the move in his case may have been that the bigwigs at Toho were, apparently, displeased with the arty visuals in The School of Flesh. However, in my opinion, the use of deep focus, unusual camera angles and bold lighting effects makes this film a visual treat throughout. 

 

 

The age discrepancy between the two characters is less pronounced than in the book, which describes Taeko as being 39 and Senkichi 21 – at the time of the film’s release, Kishida was 34 and Yamazaki 28. The two stars had both been members of the Bungakuza theatre company and knew each other well. Another person associated with Bungakuza was Yukio Mishima himself – the company had staged a number of his plays, often featuring Kishida, an actress who was both admired and befriended by the writer.

*The novel has appeared in French and also provided the basis for the French film L’ecole de la chair (1998) starring Isabelle Huppert.

Thanks to A.K. 

 

 

Flower-Picking Diary / 花つみ日記 / Hana-tsumi nikki (1939)

Hideko Takamine

 

 

 Mitsuru (Misako Shimizu) is a girl from Tokyo whose family have just moved to the Soemoncho district of Osaka. She’s in her early-mid teens and her mother is a Christian. When she begins attending her new school, she soon becomes best-friends with classmate Eiko (Hideko Takamine), who used to live in Tokyo herself when she was small. Her family have a business training maiko (apprentice geisha) to sing, dance and play instruments. When the two girls come up with a plan to make a gift together with which to surprise their kindly teacher (Kuniko Ashihara) on her birthday, a misunderstanding ensues and they fall out. Both girls are miserable as a result, and Eiko gets to the point where she can’t even face school anymore, so she drops out to become a maiko herself…

 

Misako Shimizu

 

Produced by Toho Eiga before they became known simply as Toho from 1943, Flower-Picking Diary was based on a story by Nobuko Yoshiya (1896-1973). Being both a Christian and a lesbian, she wrote from an unusual perspective for a Japanese author of the time, but her books were highly popular with female students – so much so, in fact, that there had already been around 30 movies based on her work. The main source of this particular picture is a story entitled ‘Tengoku to maiko’ (‘Heaven and maiko’) from her 1936 collection Chisana hanabana (Little Flowers), but it seems that some elements may have been borrowed from other stories by Yoshiya as the story of the film (as adapted by female screenwriter Noriko Suzuki) differs considerably. The main difference is that there is apparently no falling out between the two girls in the original – a fact I found quite surprising considering that this is absolutely central to the film. Indeed, the extent to which it should be interpreted as the story of a lesbian love is debatable  – there’s certainly nothing overt – but it’s certainly a film about friendship and the devastating feelings that can occur when two close friends fall out. It’s difficult to think of other examples of films dealing seriously with broken friendships, but this one is very moving once it gets going (there may be rather too much singing of sentimental songs in the earlier stages). 

 

 

The shadow of war looms large over the film, and the scenes of largely unquestioning and joyful celebration when Mitsuru’s brother gets called up have not dated well, but are revealing of their time. (Incidentally, Nobuko Yoshiya’s reputation suffered somewhat after the war as she was said to have toed the authoritarian government line a little more than necessary.) Ironically, though, it’s the war that gives some hope for the future of Eiko and Mitsuru’s friendship as Eiko decides to make a senninbari for Mitsuru’s brother, which involves her standing at the bridge on Shinsaibashi Street and asking passing women to sew a stitch to make up the 1000 needed for this type of amulet belt.

 

 

Hideko Takamine was 15 when she made this, but already an old pro who had made dozens of films since her film debut in 1929 at the age of 5. Her co-star, Misako Shimazu, was a very young-looking 20 years of age, and was featured in a few other films but disappeared from the screen after 1941. Takamine may well have related to her role more than usual here as, shortly before making the film, like Eiko, she had been forced to leave school and pursue a career she did not particularly care for (acting in movies was something she felt obliged to do as no less than nine family members were relying on her financially).

The sensitive direction is by Tamizo Ishida (1901-72), who made around 90 films between 1926 and 1947, but the only other one which is relatively easy to find in decent quality with English subtitles is Fallen Blossoms (1938).

BONUS TRIVIA: If the actor playing Eiko’s father looks familiar, that’s probably because it’s Eitaro Shindo, who went on to play the title role in Kenji Mizoguchi’s masterpiece Sansho Dayu (1954)

Some of the information above comes from a review on Amazon Japan by ‘Beautiful Summer.’

Thanks to A.K.

DVD at Amazon Japan

 

 

Woman Unveiled / 女であること / Onna de aru koto (‘Being a Woman’, 1958)

 

Yoshiko Kuga

 

Masayuki Mori and Setsuko Hara

Sadatsugu (Masayuki Mori), a lawyer, and his wife Ichiko (Setsuko Hara) are a childless couple who are looking after the daughter of one of Sadatsugu’s clients, who is facing a death sentence, though we never learn precisely what for. The daughter, named Taeko (Kyoko Kagawa), appears to be in her late teens, and is sensitive, timid and rather gloomy, perhaps mostly due to her father’s situation.

 

Kyoko Kagawa

Sadatsugu and Ichiko then find themselves having to look after another young woman of a similar age, Sakae (Yoshiko Kuga), who has run away from home and is the daughter of Ichiko’s best friend. Unlike Taeko, Sakae turns out to be a spoilt, insensitive troublemaker with no filter and no control over her emotions. It’s not long before she’s annoying Taeko with her directness, flirting with Sadatsugu and even coming home drunk and kissing Ichiko on the lips. Meanwhile, Ichiko has a chance meeting with old flame Goro (Tatsuya Mihashi), whom she hasn’t seen for 17 years. Then Sakae finds out and starts sticking her oar in… 

 

Tatsuya Mihashi

 

This production by Tokyo Eiga (a subsidiary of Toho) was director Yuzo Kawashima’s first for them after leaving Nikkatsu. It was based on an untranslated novel of the same name by Yasunari Kawabata originally serialised in the Asahi Shinbun during 1956. Despite the fact that it’s not considered one of future Nobel laureate Kawabata’s most notable works, Kawashima – along with his collaborators Sumie Tanaka (female) and Toshiro Ide (male) – is said to have gone to a great deal of trouble over the screenplay. By all accounts a pretty faithful adaptation, nevertheless Kawashima apparently regarded the film as a failure, feeling that he had failed to make of it any more than an illustrated version of the novel’s key scenes. It’s also likely that some important aspects had to be implied in the film version due to censorship – for example, that Sadatsugu and his wife haven’t slept together much in their ten years of marriage, and that Ichiko’s interest in sex is revived partly due to her kiss with Sakae and partly as a result of meeting Goro again. There’s also some suggestion that Sadatsugu sleeps with Sakae, but it’s not really made clear. However, what’s more frustrating is that we learn nothing of the crime for which Taeko’s father is facing a death sentence and, in fact, never even lay eyes on him – it’s simply a convenient device to give her something to feel troubled about. It seems to me that the inclusion of such a story element rather obliges the writers to expand a little (I would assume that Kawabata went into more detail in his book).

 

Masayuki Mori

 

The film opens with a montage sequence of Yoshiko Kuga shot from behind riding around on her bike and shouting out greetings to various passers-by. This is followed by Akihiro Miwa, the drag queen from Black Lizard (1968), dancing and singing the title song (i.e. ‘Being a Woman’) over the opening credits before two American military planes go roaring overhead, scaring Kyoko Kagawa’s pet bird. It’s hard to know what to make of this opening – apart from whimsy on the part of Kawashima – as none of it seems to bear much relation to what follows. 

 

Setsuko Hara

Though by no means a bad film, Woman Unveiled also features a disappointingly corny, Hollywood-style score by Toshiro Mayuzumi and wraps things up in mostly conventional fashion, although the change undergone by Kyoko Kagawa’s character is somewhat unexpected. The posters promoted Setsuko Hara as the main star, but it’s Yoshiko Kuga who steals this one – the term  ‘charm offensive’ springs to mind here, as she simultaneously manages to be both charming and offensive. Incidentally, the role is strikingly similar to the one she played in the previous year’s Banka (aka Northern Elegy), in which she also caused trouble for a middle-aged and married professional played by Masayuki Mori. For all its flaws, Woman Unveiled remains a well-made and intelligent film arguably more in the Naruse mould than the Kawashima one (if such a thing existed) with a trio of very different but interesting and well-rounded female characters at its centre.

Thanks to A.K.

DVD at Amazon Japan (no English subtitles) 

 

 

Rats of the Town / 江戸の小鼠たち / Edo no koizumi tachi / (‘Little Rats of Edo’, 1957)

 

Masahiko Tsugawa

 

1832. Jirokichi (Masahiko Tsugawa) is an angry young man living in a tenement in Edo (now Tokyo) at a time when poverty is widespread and corruption is rife. His namesake, the real-life thief Jirokichi (better-known as Nezumi Kozo, or ‘Rat Boy’)* has just been executed. Like many young men, Jirokichi idolises him as a sort of Robin Hood-figure who helped the poor and continually outsmarted The Man.  Unfortunately, his attempts to emulate his hero tend to cause trouble for his fellow tenement-dwellers, and he receives no parental guidance as his mother is dead, while his father (Akitake Kono) is unemployed and gambles away what little money they have. 

 

Izumi Ashikawa

 

The girl next door, Okin (Izumi Ashikawa), works at a teahouse and, to Jirokichi’s annoyance, is courted by a young samurai, Kakusaburo (Hiroyuki Nagato). Jirokichi picks a fight with him and wins, after which the two become friends. Some local yakuza who witnessed the fight decide to employ Jirokichi. Despite the fact that he had previously fought against the yakuza when he saw them ripping off the poor, he’s now happy to work for The Man as the other tenement-dwellers have come to see him as a troublemaker and turned against him. Only Okin still believes in him as she remembers all the times he protected her when she was a young girl…

 

Hiroyuki Nagato

 

This Nikkatsu production was based on a then newly-published novel by Genzo Murakami, a specialist in samurai tales. The two young male stars, Masahiko Tsugawa (17) and Hiroyuki Nagato (23), were not only brothers, but were also both associated with so-called ‘sun tribe’ pictures – Tsugawa with Crazed Fruit and Nagato with Season in the Sun (both 1956). Although this film is by no means a ‘sun tribe’ jidaigeki (period drama), it’s obvious that it was made to appeal to the youth market. 

 

 

Directed by veteran Taizo Fuyushima, who made Joshu karasu (see my review for more on him), like that film, this one is very well-made and entertaining with quite a lot of humour if not a great deal of depth, and also features some excellent cinematography, in this case by Shohei Imamura favourite Shinsaku Himeda. Transposed to another era, Jirokichi is akin to the typical nihilistic young rebel of post-war Japan who felt let down by the older generation (represented by here by his worse than useless father), but the light, conventional tone of the ending negates any impact the film might have had. 

Watched with dodgy subtitles.  

*This historical figure became the hero of various kabuki plays, novels and motion pictures in Japan; of the latter, Daisuke Ito’s Jirokichi the Rat (1931) is the most notable.

Nikkatsu DVD (no subtitles)