Dedication of the Great Buddha / 大佛開眼 / Daibutsu kaigen (1952)

 Obscure Japanese Film #186

Kazuo Hasegawa and Machiko Kyo

 

Nara, the then-capital of Japan, in the year 745. Kunihito (Kazuo Hasegawa) is a sculptor of rare talent. One day, after completing a huge sand sculpture by a river, he is upset when the oblivious Mayame (Machiko Kyo) walks over it to fetch water. An argument ensues in which they throw water at each other before going their separate ways. Sometime later, Mayame’s dancing attracts the attention of the lecherous Ogusu (Kenjiro Uemura), who follows her into the forest and tries to rape her, but she’s saved in the nick of time by Kunihito, who happened to be passing by. As a result, she immediately falls in love with Kunihito and becomes his girlfriend.

 

Eitaro Ozawa

Kunihito is recruited by the hunchbacked Kimimaro (Eitaro Ozawa, in a rare sympathetic role), who has been tasked with constructing a huge statue of the Great Buddha at Kinsho-ji (now Todai-ji) Temple and needs an assistant. Later, when Lady Sakuyako (Mitsuko Mito) sees some of Kunihiko’s work, she insists that he make a statue of her. Mayame, jealous of all the attention Kunihito is paying to both projects, decides to get revenge by sabotaging the Buddha statue…

 

Mitsuko Mito

 

This Daiei production was based on a play by Hideo Nagata (1885-1949) first published in 1921. Mizoguchi’s The Love of Sumako the Actress (1947) had also been based on a Nagata play and, in fact, even featured Tomo’o Nagai in a small role as Nagata himself. I don’t know how it compares to the original, but Ryuichiro Yagi’s screenplay seems, frankly, rather ludicrous, so it’s no surprise that Yagi failed to have a very successful career as a screenwriter despite being a respected playwright himself. 

 

Machiko Kyo

 

Presumably, having happened in the distant past, the actual personalities surrounding the construction of the Great Buddha are a bit of a mystery, but I’m willing to bet they didn’t include a vain and silly woman who spends most of her time dancing around a forest and mooning after a sculptor. Machiko Kyo does her best, but this may well be the worst role of her career. A lot of scenes feel too drawn-out, especially those featuring Kyo blubbering, of which there are many. Such sentimental nonsense must have seemed out of date even in 1952 and is not helped any by Ikuma Dan’s clichéd score. Intended as a prestige production and optimistically submitted to Japan’s Festival of the Arts as well as Cannes, it deservedly won nothing, but luckily director Teinosuke Kinugasa, together with stars Kazuo Hasegawa and Machiko Kyo redeemed themselves with the following year’s far superior Gate of Hell.