Tobira o hiraku onna / 扉を開く女 (1946)

Obscure Japanese Film #270

Yumeji Tsukioka

Yokohama c.1880. Okinu (Yumeji Tsukioka) is a young woman who sings and plays the gekkin (aka yueqin or ‘moon lute’) in restaurants to earn a living. She’s in love with Shinkichi (Kanji Koshiba), a carriage driver studying to be a lawyer under windbag Professor Naito (Mitsusaburo Ramon).

Kanji Koshiba

Her neighbour, Kikue (Yaeko Mizutani I, frequently confused with her daughter, Yaeko Mizutani II), is a widowed sewing instructor who was forced to endure an unhappy marriage. As a young woman, she had been in love with Takano, but unable to marry him as he was an ashigaru (samurai of the lowest rank). Instead, she was made to recite the ‘Three Obediences of a Woman’ – which are first to her parents, second to her husband and finally to her children – until it nearly drove her mad and then had to marry a man who had no feelings for her.

Yaeko Mizutani

When the supposedly liberal Professor Naito proves objects strongly to Shinkichi’s intention to marry Okinu, Kikue is determined that Okinu not suffer the same fate, so she takes matters into her own hands and visits the professor herself…

Misusaburo Ramon (supposedly!)

Produced by Daiei at their Kyoto studios, this was supposedly based on an original screenplay by Yoshikata Yoda. However, Yoda clearly stole the plot from Kyoka Izumi’s 1907 novel Onna keizu, the multiple film versions of which include Teinosuke Kinugasa’s The Romance of Yushima and Kenji Misumi’s 1962 version (the latter of which had a screenplay by Yoda).

This was director Keigo Kimura’s first post-war film and the conditions he had to work under would have been quite restrictive this early on during the occupation, when the authorities would only give the green light to pictures that promoted democracy and were against feudalism. This one is not terribly subtle in its approach and contains dialogue such as, “I despise such feudalistic thinking! Japan still hasn’t managed to break free from it…”, etc etc.

Yaeko Mizutani

The acting is not terribly interesting either, with Yaeko Mizutani’s theatrical origins being all too obvious and her decision to speak like Minnie Mouse when playing the young Kikue in the flashbacks especially regrettable. Director Kimura manages some nice moments here and there, but overall this is a contrived and sentimental affair which has not aged well.

A note on the title:

A few slightly different variations are possible but, because the title seems to refer to Kikue, who opens a (metaphorical) door for Okinu – and potentially for other women in similar positions – the most apt translation is perhaps ‘The Woman Who Opened Doors’.

Thanks to A.K.

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The Romance of Yushima / 婦系図 湯島の白梅 / Onna keizu Yushima no shiraume (1955)

Obscure Japanese Film #90

Fujiko Yamamoto

 

Yushima, Tokyo, 1902. Otsuta (Fujiko Yamamoto) is a geisha who has left her profession to become the wife of promising young scholar Hayase (Koji Tsuruta), who is helping his mentor, Professor Sakai (Masayuki Mori), to compile the first German-Japanese dictionary. Otsuta and Hayase have not yet been married officially as Hayase is waiting for an opportune moment to tell the Professor about their union. Having lost his parents in the fire which destroyed much of downtown Shizuoka in 1889, Hayase was adopted by the Professor, and so is under a great obligation to him. However, as the Professor thinks highly of Hayase, the young couple are confident that he will approve their union even though Hayase is expected to marry the professor’s daughter, Taeko (Yoshiko [not Sumiko] Fujita). Unfortunately, Otsuta becomes implicated in a theft despite being innocent. When this is reported in the newspaper, Professor Sakai learns about the secret marriage and is furious, seemingly forgetting the similar relationship he had had in his own youth with Koyoshi (Haruko Sugimura), who is actually the madam at the geisha house where Otsuta had been employed…

Masayuki Mori

 

This Daiei production has the sort of determinedly tragic story that is (or at least was) especially popular in Japan. I found it rather clichéd and predictable, but it should be noted that it’s a faithful adaptation of a 1907 novel by Kyoka Izumi, so it’s quite possible that Izumi’s work felt fresh at the time and it was only when others copied aspects of it that they became clichés. What now seems a quaintly old-fashioned story was also once considered progressive in its attack on the institution of the arranged marriage. Although it’s not one of the few Izumi works to have been translated into English (he’s reputedly difficult to translate), it was one of his most popular and became a successful stage play only a year after publication. There had also been previous film versions – in 1934 with Kinuyo Tanaka and Joji Oka, followed by a two-part version in 1942 with Isuzu Yamada and Kazuo Hasegawa. Remakes followed in 1959 and 1962, while it was also adapted for television on a number of occasions, including in 1966 with Fujiko Yamamoto repeating her role.

Koji Tsuruta

 

The male lead, Koji Tsuruta, is not a name likely to ring many bells outside of Japan, but he was actually one of the country’s biggest male stars of the era. Some readers may know him for playing Toshiro Mifune’s opponent, Kojiro Sasaki, in Hiroshi Inagaki’s Samurai trilogy, or perhaps for his starring role in Kinji Fukasaku’s Sympathy for the Underdog (1971). He could probably relate well to the part he plays in The Romance of Yushima given that his own romance with actress Keiko Kishi was nipped in the bud in 1952 by Shochiku, the studio to whom he was under contract at the time. He attempted suicide shortly after, but fortunately survived only to be badly beaten by a yakuza member the following year because his manager had offended them. The attack had involved both a whisky bottle and a brick; Tsuruta required 11 stitches, but luckily was not disfigured and resumed his career, which continued almost until his passing from lung cancer in 1987. 

Haruko Sugimura

 

The performances in The Romance of Yushima are solid if unexceptional. The omnipresent Eitaro Ozawa also pops up as a colleague of Sakai’s, but it’s actually Daisuke Kato who steals it as a cheeky fishmonger sympathetic to Otsuta. 

Daisuke Kato

 

The print I saw was a just-about-watchable VHS transfer, so there’s no doubt that the film would benefit greatly from a higher quality digital version. However, I wouldn’t call it a lost masterpiece as the story hasn’t dated well and the music (a combination of choral singing, harp and strings) is overused and far from ideal. For those reasons, I feel that this is my least favourite of the films I’ve seen by director Teinosuke Kinugasa (the others being A Page of Madness, Gate of Hell, New Tales of the Heike: Three Women around Yoshinaka and Actress).

Note: the Japanese title translates as ‘Genealogy of Women: White Plum Blossoms of Yushima’

UPDATE: I’ve since seen Kenji Misumi’s 1962 version (also made for Daiei), which has Raizo Ichikawa as Hayase, the little-known Masayo Banri as Otsuta, Koreya Senda as the professor, Michiyo Kogure as Koyoshi, and Eiji Funakoshi as the fishmonger. Working from a new screenplay by Yoshikata Yoda, it changed a few details (e.g. Hayase is merely a random teenaged pickpocket the professor decides to adopt) but retained the basic story. Made in colour and widescreen by a director with a good eye, it looks more arresting, but ultimately fails to be any more compelling despite a great deal of emoting from the cast. 

Masayo Banri and Raizo Ichikawa

 

Koreya Senda

Michiyo Kogure

Eiji Funakoshi

Masayo Banri

The Song Lantern / 歌行燈 / Uta andon (1943)

Obscure Japanese Film #56

 

Isuzu Yamada

This film adaptation of a Japanese literary classic tells the story of Kitahachi (Shotaro Hanayagi), the son of a famous Noh actor, Genzaburo Onchi (Ichijiro Oya). Kitahachi is angered by stories of 'So-zan' (Masao Murata), a provincial amateur who has been bragging that he can perform Noh songs better than 'those guys in Tokyo.' He decides to pay a visit to So-zan to find out how good he really is. So-zan is a blind masseur turned restaurant owner said to be keeping three concubines, the thought of which Kitahachi finds distasteful and only angers him further. Unimpressed by So-zan's singing, he takes him down a peg or two, humiliating the braggart by beating out the correct rhythm to the song, causing So-zan to falter in his performance and lose face. Kitahachi follows this victory by openly insulting him, then walks out. So-zan sends O-Sode  (Isuzu Yamada) – the young woman who had ushered him in to see So-zan and whom Kitahachi takes to be one of the concubines – to go after Kitahachi and bring him back, but he rebuffs her. The following day, he learns that So-zan has committed suicide. When Kitahachi's father hears what has transpired, he is furious and disowns Kitahachi, who is soon reduced to becoming a wandering samisen player. One day, he encounters O-Sode, whom he has by this time learned was actually So-zan's daughter. (This is significant as he would never have been so harsh towards her father had he known this at the time.) She is now working as a geisha but is in danger of losing her job as she's unable to play the shamisen despite having made a great effort to learn the instrument. Stricken by guilt, Kitahachi sees a way of making amends and decides to help her. As she clearly has no talent for the shamisen, he teaches her a Noh dance instead…

 

Shotaro Hanayagi

The Song Lantern was based on a 1910 novella by Kyoka Izumi (1873-1939). Izumi was held in high esteem by a number of more famous Japanese writers, including Yukio Mishima, Junichiro Tanizaki and Yasunari Kawabata, while his work has formed the basis of films by directors such as Kenji Mizoguchi, Masahiro Shinoda and Kon Ichikawa. The original, which has been published in English as ‘A Song by Lantern Light’, is regarded as one of its author’s masterworks. Unravelling in a clever flashback structure which flits between the past and present in a way that is ahead of its time, and containing some nice humour mixed in with the tragedy, it stands up very well indeed. This film version uses a more conventional narrative structure but otherwise remains remarkably faithful for the most part, although the ending is less enigmatic and more upbeat. Another difference is that So-zan reappears as a ghost in the film – though, like the ghost of Banquo in Macbeth, it’s left ambiguous as to whether this is a ‘real’ ghost or, a hallucination brought on by a guilty conscience. Many of Izumi’s stories do feature ghosts, but not ‘A Song by Lantern Light’.

 

Masao Murata

The screenplay was written by Mantaro Kubota (1889-1963), a writer of novels, plays and haiku with four screenplay credits, three of which are for adaptations of Izumi stories. His screenplay for The Song Lantern was apparently finished in 1940, but when production of the film was delayed, it was instead staged at Tokyo’s Meijiza theatre in July of that year with Shotaro Hanayagi (star of the film version) in the lead. Hanayagi (1894-1965), who somewhat resembles Kazuo Hasegawa, was a kabuki actor specialising in female roles who had starred in a stage version of Izumi’s novel Nihonbashi (Bridge of Japan) back in 1915. He only made a handful of films, most notable of which was his leading role for Kenji Mizoguchi in The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums (1939), but he went on to be awarded the title of ‘Living National Treasure’.

 

Isuzu Yamada

Another cast member with an affinity for the work of Kyoka Izumi is Isuzu Yamada, a striking, skilful and versatile actress who will always be remembered for her ‘Lady Macbeth’ in Throne of Blood, but deserves to be remembered for lot more. She had also starred in Mizoguchi’s The Downfall of Osen (1934), and Masahiro Makino’s two-part Onna Keizu (1942), all of which were based on Izumi stories.

13 years into his directorial career at this point, Mikio Naruse was not yet considered one of the grand masters of Japanese cinema, but certainly had an excellent reputation as a maker of intelligent, sensitive, literary dramas. As this film was made during the war years, Naruse would have been working with limited resources and interference from the authorities, so it is to his credit that he managed to avoid making military propaganda and was able to produce such a high quality film under these circumstances. In my opinion, this is one Naruse film which deserves a little more love. Although some lengthy scenes of Noh performance may stretch the patience of some viewers, it has a strong story which draws you in, fine performances and some notably well-shot sequences, such as the ones in which Kitahachi teaches O-Mie the Noh dance in the forest. As far as I can tell, the film is only available in a rather faded VHS transfer – a pity, as it’s certainly worthy of restoration.

The Song Lantern was remade in 1960 by Teinosuke Kinugasa (working from a new script), who cast Raizo Ichikawa and Fujiko Yamamoto in the leads.

The original story can be found in In Light of Shadows: More Gothic Tales by Izumi Kyoka translated by Charles Shiro Inouye (University of Hawaii Press, 2005)

 

Bridge of Japan / 日本橋 / Nihonbashi (1956)

Obscure Japanese Film #16

 

Chikage Awashima

Kon Ichikawa’s first film in colour stars three of Japan’s most popular actresses of the era as a trio of suffering geisha during the Meiji period (1868-1912). Okoh (Chikage Awashima) is being pestered by the obsessive Igarashi (Eijiro Yanagi), a former seafood seller from Hokkaido who is nicknamed ‘Red Bear’ as he constantly wears a disgusting bear skin. Having spent all his money on his hopeless love for Okoh, he finds a cheap source of food in the grubs he finds wriggling around in his bizarre garment. 

 

Eijiro Yanagi as 'Red Bear'

Okoh’s rival is Kiyoha (Fujiko Yamamoto), who has a less revolting suitor in the well-dressed and educated Katsuragi (Ryuji Shinagawa), although he states rather disconcertingly that he yearns to marry her because she reminds him of his missing sister. Unfortunately, Kiyoha has a ‘sponsor’ with whom she has an illicit child, so she’s in no position to marry. 

Fujiko Yamamoto and Ryuji Shinagawa

 

Despite being a humourless, self-pitying dullard with a sister fetish, Katsuragi attracts the attention of Okoh while he’s surreptitiously throwing some clams and sea snails off a bridge for incomprehensible reasons; naturally, she falls instantly in love with him. Meanwhile, Okoh’s naïve young friend and colleague Ochise (Ayako Wakao) is bullied in the street by a gang of boys before being rescued by a mysterious monk.

Ayako Wakao

 

Ichikawa had just received a bashing from the press after his previous film, Punishment Room, had caused a Clockwork Orange-type controversy when it was blamed for inspiring a spate of crimes in which women had been drugged and raped. His choice of Bridge of Japan for his next project suggests that he had no wish to court such controversy and wanted to play it safe. The source is a 1914 novel by Kyoka Izumi,[1] who adapted it into a play the following year. [2] A 1929 silent version by Kenji Mizoguchi is now lost. In complete contrast to Punishment Room, Bridge of Japan is a sentimental melodrama which must have seemed somewhat old-fashioned even at the time, and it may well be the case that Ichikawa was more concerned with the visual aspects of his first colour film than the content. However, it does look beautiful and is, of course, very well-made and well-acted, with enough quirky elements to maintain interest. 

In terms of acting, the female stars all acquit themselves admirably; although Ayako Wakao has the more minor of the three roles, her skill is evident in a scene in which she chats with her grandfather while cooking a meal and doing all sorts of complicated things with the props. Perhaps this unusual adeptness caught the attention of the Assistant Director – Yasuzo Masumura, who would soon go on to become an important director himself and cast Wakao in leading roles in no less than 20 of his films. The picture really belongs to Chikage Awashima, though. I’ve seen her in quite a few films, but often in supporting roles; she really rises to the occasion here, giving a memorable portrait of a fragile and emotionally-needy woman doomed to attract the wrong kind of man.

 

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[1] Izumi was also responsible for the originals on which Kenji Mizoguchi’s The Downfall of Osen (1934), Masahiro Shinoda’s and Takashi Miike’s versions of Demon Pond (1979 and 2005) and Seijun Suzuki’s Kagero-za (1981) were based. Nihonbashi remains untranslated, but the University of Hawaii Press have published two collections of his stories in English.

 

[2] The play starred male actor Shotaro Hanayagi in the leading female part. Hanayagi made a handful of movies in later years, most notably playing the lead in Mizoguchi’s The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums.