Jigokuhen

No one does 'descent into madness and despair' better than Tatsuya Nakadai. And when it comes to theatrical lighting, expansive settings, and slow-fi supernatural poetics, no one does them better than the Japanese, who had the benefit of a few centuries of kabuki experience before Mario Bava and Roger Corman got there with their cobwebs and color filters. All the elements are in place then and Shiro Toyoda delivers with utmost impunity. In part a not-so-distant cousin of the kaidan genre of spooky ghost stories that proliferated all through the first half of the 60's in Japan, complete with deformed ghostly apparitions that come and go as they please, yet also a bit of a prestige film that can afford beauty for beauty's sake without having to cram plot points in the short running time of a second-bill film, this reflected in the stars of the film (Tatsuya Nakadai and Kinnosuke Nakamura) and the lush sets Toho Studios put in Toyoda's disposal, the vivid colors and accomplished camera-work that suggest a director more talented than his nonexistent reputation in the West implies, all these elements coming together to create a dramatically unsubtle, not really horrifying but tragic and macabre, parable on the unyielding monomania of a perfectionist. A Korean painter is summoned by his Japanese lord to paint a portrait of Buddhist heaven. The Japanese lord becomes smitten by the painter's daughter and takes her for his concubine. The Korean painter pleads for his daughter, this coming across as more the whim of a possessive father than genuine love. Finally he settles for painting a portrait of hell. You just know Tatsuya Nakadai's face is gonna be a mask of utter despair and torment by the end and it's worth the ride getting there because the conclusion is truly ferocious.

I stumbled upon this film in my search for more films in the Kwaidan genre. The DVD quality was OK but after viewing the film, I kind of understand why it was not more popular as a film, although it also came from the same time period when ghost stories - Kwaidan, Strange Tales from the Four Valleys - basically introduced me to the joy of Japanese cinema in my younger years.

It is nutshell, it was a slow and tedious film without a character that you would care about. Well, perhaps except the daughter of the protagonist, played by Tatsuya Nakadai. He was one of my favourite Japanese actor from the past and his acting here was fairly solid. Still, it did not compensate enough for the pace and dullness of the story line.

Perhaps this story is more suited for a stage play. For cinema, much is lacking to make the film engaging to its audience.

A title that the film delivers the goods. Not the Hell of western imagination but the Hell of Buddhist thought. This is a tough film that really stick in the mind long after it's over.

Nakadai plays a Korean court artist to a ridiculous Japanese Lord who is blind to the growing poverty of his domain. The Lord wants a mural of Buddhist paradise but the artist doesn't know what that looks like. He can only paint death and misery. The artist himself is no great example of humanity as he's a full blown bigot. Caught in the middle is the artist's daughter and her innocent Japanese lover.

This film would not be possible without Nakadai who uses his ability to portray deep despair to it's fullest here. At points he looks like his character in "Ran" almost exactly. The points covered here include vanity, racism, pride, and other human traits that create a hell on earth. There's no happy ending here so be warned.

Wonderful sets and a theatrical style of lighting create an atmosphere unlike most other films. Recommended

There are a lot of reviews calling out the over the top performances, but it seems strongly inspired by ritualized drama forms like Kabuki and Noh. Just look at the Paramount Lord's eyebrows! It's just really traditionally stagey. What I found weirder is that the 'good guy' is much worse than the 'bad guy'. The scene with the snakes, let alone the business with the daughter, the artist is just horrrrrible.

Though I've seen most of his older stuff, my current impression of Tatsuya Nakadai derives from "Ran," "Kagemusha," and an appearance at Berkeley's PFA. At the latter, he appeared, as Japanese can, stiffly polite, a bit broader of chest than I would have expected, though age brings that, and at least, I think, average height, in an immaculate gray suit. His fluidity of movement in the 1969 "Jigokuhen" startles me even against the early samurai roles. While Kinnosuke Nakamura, playing Lord Hosokawa, embodies in every movement the calm attached to his character's status, Nakadai's never still. Nakamura looms, of course in court, but no less so crouched over Yoshihide's daughter or alone, pacing. Nakadai leans, bobs, treads air, seldom or never freezes. Even in the presence of court women, of anyone but his daughter or her suitor, he seems always the shortest person on screen. Think of Jean-Louis Barrault in Jean Renoir's Jeckle/Hyde film "Le Testament du Docteur Cordelier." As the doctor, Barrault's his true height. As Opale (Hyde) he's a foot shorter. The transformation happens before your eyes, with no special effect, and is absolutely believable. Nakadai here rivals that feat.

If "Jigokuhen" were a better film than I think it probably is, I'd elaborate the irony of the Yoshihide's groveling against the Lord's serenity. More startling though, is Yoshihide's lack of humor, against the Lord's embodiment of it. Indeed Lord Hosokawa's the only one in the film to joke, and keeps trying nearly to the end. Yet another case- Milton's Satan certainly wasn't the first-of the bad guy getting most the good lines.