May Love Be Restored / 五番町夕霧楼 / Gobancho Yugiri-ro (1980)

 

Keiko Matsuzaka

 

A little background may be useful here, so please bear with me before I get to the film…

In July 1950, the famous 500-year-old golden temple known as Kinkaku-ji in Kyoto was deliberately  burned down by an apprentice monk named Yoken Hayashi, who made a suicide attempt immediately after but failed and was sentenced to seven years in prison as a result. His health worsened during his incarceration and he was released early, but died in 1956 aged just 26. Kinkaku-ji was successfully reconstructed in the intervening years and still stands today. Hayashi, who suffered from a severe stutter he was said to have had since the age of 3, never explained the reasons for his actions. 

 

 

In 1956, Yukio Mishima published his novel based on the incident (known in English as The Temple of the Golden Pavilion). Mishima interpreted the crime as the result of an urge to destroy beauty – a recurring theme in his work The novel was filmed in a compromised version by Kon Ichikawa in 1958 as Enjo (aka Conflagration); a more faithful version by Yoichi Takabayashi appeared in 1976. 

 

Eiji Okuda

 

Another writer, Tsutomu Mizukami (or Minakami), had also become interested in the story from a different perspective. Mizukami had himself begun monastic training while still a boy, but was treated badly and quit by the time he was 18. He related to Hayashi, whom he even claimed to have met before the incident, and interpreted the crime as an act of rebellion against the hypocrisy of the temple authorities. Mizukami (who also authored The Temple of Wild Geese, another story involving a disaffected acolyte) carried out a great deal of research on the case and published his own novel inspired by it, Gobancho Yugiri-ro, in 1962. Shortly before committing his act of arson, Hayashi was said to have visited the same prostitute a couple of times in the red light district of Kyoto known as Gobancho, and Mizukami took this detail and created a major character out of her. In his novel, the two are childhood sweethearts from a struggling rural community who end up being sent (separately) to Kyoto by their families for very different reasons – he to train as a monk, she to work as a prostitute in a brothel as her destitute father has too many hungry mouths to feed.

 

Keiko Matsuzaka

 

Gobancho Yugiriro was first filmed in 1963 by director Tomotoka Tasaka. In his version, the prostitute (now named Yuko) is the focus of his film, with Hayashi (now Kunugi) not appearing until quite late on. In contrast, the version we’re concerned with here – directed by Shigeyuki Yamane and produced by Shochiku – balances its story more equally between the two principals. This is likely because Mizukami had published a second book about the Kinkaku-ji incident in 1979. Entitled Kinkaku-enjo (‘The Burning of the Golden Pavilion’), it was a non-fiction account which has yet to be translated into English. The opening credits of this film state that it is based on both books.

 

Yuko Hama

 

Yuko (Keiko Matsuzaka) is treated with apparent kindness by the madam, Katsue (Yuko Hama), whose brothel is named Yugiri-ro (providing the second half of the Japanese title). Although in neither film is this character treated with condemnation, she is, of course, involved in a sleazy business, and she arranges for one of her trusted regulars, the middle-aged ‘Ta-san’ (Hiroyuki Nagato) to take her virginity, and he becomes sexually-obsessed with her. Once that’s out of the way, Yuko takes to her new profession with disconcerting ease, and soon becomes the most popular prostitute in the place – with the clients, that is. Her colleagues soon get tired of being passed over and become envious. Meanwhile, Yuko secretly makes contact with Kunugi (Eiji Okuda), the stuttering apprentice monk she had grown up with and who is the only person she truly loves. She also feels responsible for his affliction as it began when they were children after she had accidentally dropped a snake on him while trying to get it out of a tree with a stick. He begins visiting her at the brothel, where she pays his fees, but, instead of sleeping together, they spend their time talking and singing songs they remember from their childhood. He’s supposed to be looking after the Golden Temple (here called Hokaku-ji), but he’s becoming increasingly disillusioned with his vocation and his relationship with the head priest (Shin Saburi) is deteriorating, while he sees little hope for a future with Yuko…

 

Shin Saburi

 

On the whole, I have to say that I prefer the 1963 version, mainly because I think it’s better cast and acted. Yuko is supposed to be 19 years old when she enters the brothel but, despite the fact that the 27-year-old Keiko Matsuzaka has not even the suggestion of a wrinkle, she somehow fails to convince as a teenager. However, having played leading roles in a number of successful films and TV dramas throughout the 1970s, she was a big star whose popularity was at its peak at the time this film was released. Some of the other performances also suffer in comparison to the earlier film – Hiroyuki Nagato overdoes it here (I preferred Minoru Chiaki in the 1963 version), while, as the madam, Yuko Hama is less memorable than Michiyo Kogure.

 

Hiroyuki Nagato

 

Another issue is that, although the film is set in 1950, it doesn’t always feel like it. A lot of little details don’t seem quite right – for example, the character known as ‘sensei’ played by Tadashi Yokouchi wears a polo-necked sweater and corduroy suit – was anyone really wearing that in 1950? And the cheesy music score which sometimes lapses into anachronistic distorted electric guitar doesn’t help either. 

 

Tadashi Yokouchi

 

The one point on which I felt it improved on the previous film was in its portrayal of the ensemble of prostitutes who share the brothel with Yuko. In Tasaka’s film, we were given what looked like a very rose-tinted view in which it was basically one happy family with perfect manners and barely a hint of conflict or rivalry, whereas Yamane’s film shows the inevitable friction between the women, which even erupts into a catfight at one point, and their excessive make-up and gaudy clothes seem more fitting. But the film has little to say about the burning of the temple – ultimately, it’s simply a confection intended to appeal to those with a taste for romantic tragedies. 

 

 DVD at Amazon Japan (no English subtitles)

The Makioka Sisters / 細雪 / Sasameyuki (‘Light Snowfall’, 1950)

 

Hideko Takamine

 

 

 

**The first four paragraphs are mostly identical to those in my review of the 1959 version**

Junichiro Tanizaki’s novel Sasameyuki is widely recognised as a classic of Japanese literature. Translated into English as The Makioka Sisters in 1957 by Edward G Seidensticker, it’s remained constantly in print ever since. The book was originally published in serial form beginning in 1943, but this was soon halted by the Japanese War Ministry – not because it criticised the government, but because, according to them at the time, ‘The novel goes on and on detailing the very thing we are most supposed to be on our guard against during this period of wartime emergency: the soft, effeminate, and grossly individualistic lives of women.’* I would have thought they should have been more worried about the enemy, but in any case, Tanizaki was forced to wait until the war had ended to resume publication, with the final instalment appearing in 1948.

 

Yukiko Todoroki

 

The story itself takes place between 1936 and 1941, ending around eight months before the attack on Pearl Harbour, and it seems that Tanizaki’s intention was partly to provide a record of a way of life he had seen rapidly vanishing before his eyes. The Makioka sisters are four adult siblings whose parents are deceased. Once a grand family, their fortunes are on the wane but they remain very well-to-do in comparison with most Japanese and keep a number of servants. The eldest, Tsuruko (played here by Ranko Hanai in what amounts to a minor role), lives apart from the others with her husband and children in what is referred to as the ‘main house.’ She is a peripheral character, but, as the senior surviving member of the family, the other sisters must defer to her and her husband before making any important decisions. Tsuruko later goes to live in Tokyo when her husband has to relocate for his job, but her sisters remain in their hometown of Osaka.

 

Hisako Yamane

The other three sisters live together. In order of age, they are Sachiko (Yukiko Todoroki, who went on to play Tsuruko in the 1959 version), Yukiko (Hisako Yamane) and Taeko, familiarly called ‘Koi-san’ (Hideko Takamine). Sachiko is married to Teinosuke (Seizaburo Kawazu), with whom she has one child, Etsuko (Takako Yamazaki). Although Sachiko is held responsible for her two younger sisters by the main house, little of the drama revolves around her. Instead, much of it concerns the attempts to find a husband for Yukiko, whose shy and sometimes stubborn nature makes this difficult. Ever since her original fiancée was killed in an accident, each marriage proposal has come to naught for one reason or another, and Yukiko is already approaching 30 when the story begins. Complicating matters further is the fact that Taeko must wait until Yukiko is married before getting married herself in order not to humiliate Yukiko and leave her looking like an old maid that nobody wants. Taeko is the closest thing to a rebel in the family, generally doing as she likes and indulged by her older sisters, who make allowances for her due to the fact that their parents died when she was so young. She has a long-running on-and-off relationship with the wealthy Kei-bo (Haruo Tanaka). 

 

Hideko Takamine

The sisters are likeable characters who live their lives trapped in a web of etiquette. Overly-concerned with what others think, they are unable to make a move without first ensuring that what they do will not offend anyone else or damage their own social status, but there’s little in the way of arrogance about them. Rather, they are simply behaving according to the rules by which they were brought up and it doesn’t even occur to them to do otherwise. In the book, Tanizaki paints a minutely-detailed picture of their lives, but never tells us what to think about it. The future of the family is left open at the end, but it’s impossible to be unaware of the dark cloud of war that awaits them just over the horizon, and no doubt Tanizaki planned it that way.

 

Haruo Tanaka

 

This first film version of the novel was produced by Shintoho and is probably the most faithful of the three overall. According to Japanese Wikipedia, it had ‘a budget of 38 million yen, an unprecedented sum for a film at the time.’ The 1959 version updated the story to what was then the present day, but this one retains the pre-war setting of the book and, being around 35 minutes longer, is also able to fit a little more in. Both the 1950s adaptations were scripted by Toshio Yasumi, who in this one includes the dark spot on Yukiko’s face that comes and goes and is supposedly a common affliction of unmarried women (something which was dropped from the 1959 film). 

 

Hisako Yamane

The later version is probably the more technically (and visually) impressive of the two – here, although there is quite an impressive flood sequence, we only hear about Koi-san’s rescue – but this one is well-done for its time and much superior to the one other film I’ve seen by its director, Yutaka Abe (the recently-reviewed 1956 film The Confession). He was no flashy stylist; instead, he rightly lets the camera be the actors’ friend here, using close-ups judiciously and tracking shots when necessary. Another asset is the music by Kurosawa favourite Fumio Hayasaka, which is certainly one of the less grating and more effective scores of its era. 

 

 

Although technically an ensemble piece, this is Hideko Takamine’s film all the way, partly because her character goes through the most changes and she gets the lion’s share of the screen time, but also because she’s so photogenic and charismatic that everyone else seems to fade into the background when she’s in view. As Koi-san, she rejects her family’s obsession with tradition and form, deciding that a man’s actions are more important than his education or lineage – an ideology which would have found favour with the occupying Americans whose approval was needed for all films produced in Japan at the time. All in all, albeit not impressive enough to qualify as a masterpiece, this is at least a fine version of a literary classic, with a great star at its centre, and as such it deserves to be restored and more widely seen.

Bonus trivia: Future star Kyoko Kagawa appears briefly in one of her first roles as Itakura’s sister.

Thanks to A.K.

Yamane and Takamine

 

Ai no kaseki / 愛の化石 (‘Fossil of Love’, 1970)

 

Ruriko Asaoka

Yuki (Ruriko Asaoka) is a textile designer who has studied in Europe and become a big success on her return to Japan. It probably doesn’t hurt that she looks more like a model than a designer and seems to have an inexhaustible supply of à la mode outfits. Perhaps that’s why magazine journalist Junko (Mayumi Nagisa) thinks she’d make a good subject for an article and assigns her hotshot photographer boyfriend Hibino (Etsushi Takahashi) to do the pictures. 

 

Mayumi Nagisa

 

Etsushi Takahashi

However, Yuki is extremely reticent about her private life and something of a control freak, so she makes Hibino promise that they won’t use any photos she dislikes. Having a high opinion of himself, he’s a little insulted by this, but reluctantly agrees, all the time wondering why he’s been given such an assignment. He has ambitions as a serious photojournalist and has covered the conflict in Biafra, a place he intends to head back to as soon as he gets a chance. He gradually learns that Yuki is in the process of getting over a relationship with a man (whom we never see), and there also seems to be something between her and magazine boss Harada (Jiro Tamiya), but he can’t help being drawn to her despite himself…

 

Jiro Tamiya

 

In 1969, the star of this film, Ruriko Asaoka, had a hit single with a song entitled ‘Ai no kaseki’, which you can listen to on YouTube here. Needless to say, this film made to capitalise on that success has precious little connection with the song, other than the vague theme of yearning for a lost love. Although we don’t hear Asaoka sing it during the course of the movie, an instrumental version plays out over the opening credits and the melody recurs at various point throughout. 

 

 

Director Yoshihiko Okamoto (1925-2004), who co-wrote the film with Koichi Suzuki, had a background in socially-conscious TV dramas such as Shinobu Hashimoto’s I Want to Be a Shellfish (1958), for which he had won an award (and which Hashimoto himself would remake for the cinema the following year). Ai no kaseki is the second of just three feature films by Okamoto, following Tsugaru zessho (‘Tsugaru song’, 1970) and preceding Seishun no umi (‘The Sea of Youth’, 1974). In terms of direction, it’s pretty good, and very well-shot mostly (if not entirely) on location by cinematographer Yuji Okumura, who was director Yoshishige Yoshida’s regular cameraman during this period. 

 

Asaoka and Takahashi

 

The problem with Ai no kaseki is the story, which – as one might expect from a film inspired by a pop ballad – is simply too thin and not terribly interesting; it literally goes nowhere. There’s a lot of then-topical talk about Biafra, an eastern region of Nigeria which had seceded from the country in 1967, sparking a civil war which lasted two and a half years, after which it was reintegrated into Nigeria. Around one million people were said to have died as a result of the conflict, many from starvation. Perhaps Okamoto sincerely wanted to draw people’s attention to this, but, if so, having his privileged characters express their concerns about it in this type of film may not have been the best way, and, unfortunately, the issue of whether Hibino really cares about Biafra or just sees it as a means to win awards is never really explored. 

 

 

In terms of the cast, Jiro Tamiya is wasted in a role which gives him little to do and Etsushi Takahashi was a limited actor better suited to action roles. Ruriko Asaoka is fine as usual, but it’s not enough to save this one – not unless seeing her in an endless parade of trendy outfits is enough for you, that is.

The film was produced by Yujiro Ishihara’s company – who had Asaoka under contract at the time – and distributed by Nikkatsu.

Amazon Japan (no English subtitles)

Thanks to A.K.