(1962)
Overall: MEH
The first full-length from filmmaker Hiroshi Teshigahara, Pitfall, (Otoshiana, Kashi To Kodomo), at one point asks "Must a man become a demon just to survive?" and this is the poignant question at the heart of a story about brutal living conditions, trade union hardships, and the type of inhumane corruption that keeps such people in dire straits. Also, it is a ghost story, which is something that works as a metaphor for both the living and the dead who are unable to escape their present condition, plus the concept that the more which they discover, the worse their existence will be. The first of four collaborations between Teshigahara and novelist/screenwriter Kōbō Abe, the film was an adaptation of the latter's television play Rengoku and was shot on location in Kyūshū, utilizing almost undetectable stock footage of malnourished children and mining disasters which blends seamlessly with Teshigahara's cinéma vérité aesthetic. Such a low-key presentation is ultimately at the cost of a haunting narrative and agreeable pacing since the movie lingers more than it propels forward, but it is still an affecting allegory that explores real life adversity through an otherworldly lens.
(1964)
Overall: GOOD
A pivotal work in Japan's New Wave, Woman in the Dunes, (Suna No Onna), is a richly photographed parable about the nature of finding meaning in existence. Shot on location in the sand dunes of Omaezaki, the focus is on only two characters who each for different reasons, find themselves at the mercy of a perpetual survival system where they must dig up sand in order to both not drown in it and receive necessities in order to carry on one more day at a time. The specifics are not grounded in scientific logic, yet they are merely in place to service a broader allegory. Stuck in a ceaseless continuation, Eiji Okada's character resists his newfound predicament in a manner that anyone would, while Kyōko Kishida has long accepted her fate. As time goes on though, the freedom that one lifestyle may grant seems interchangeable with the other, since at the end of the day and for every day afterwards, humans can only adapt, accept, and find triumphs where they can. Hiroshi Segawa's cinematography makes the harsh landscape seem evocative and awe-inspiring at times, juxtaposed with Toru Takemitsu's minimalist score which utilizes tribal percussion and dissonant violin swells to create a sinister atmosphere when it emerges from the otherwise natural silence of the soundtrack.
(1966)
Overall: GOOD
Director Hiroshi Teshigahara and author/screenwriter Kōbō Abe take on the duality of man in a literal sense with their third collaboration The Face of Another, (Tanín no Kao). Painstakingly stubborn in its deliberate tone, it concerns an engineer whose face was permanently disfigured until a sympathetic doctor agrees to make him a prosthetic mask in order for his patient to reclaim some semblance of normalcy. A straight-forward, almost mad scientist scenario on paper, the subject matter morphs into an existential crisis of morality, identity, and isolation where people can disappear into a completely different persona at the cost of their humanity and perception of oneself that is both alien to some and unavoidably recognizable to others. Featuring exceptionally drawn-out takes as well as several that are looped verbatim from earlier scenes, it forces the audience to sit with Tatsuya Nakadai's largely aloof protagonist who struggle to come to terms with the possibilities and reality of his second chance situation. Yet it does so through a deliberate veil, as the camera is often obscured by surreal set design and shot constructions. This creates a juxtaposition of intimacy and distance, which is exactly how Tatsuya Nakadai's tragic character tries to interject himself into a world that he cannot fully become immersed with.
No comments:
Post a Comment