Tadao Sato - A. Vasudev, L. Padgaonkar (Eds.) - Kenji Mizoguchi and The Art of Japanese Cinema-Bloomsbury Academic (2008) PDF

Kenji Mizoguchi
and the Art ofJapanese Cinema

Tadao Sato
"Kenji Mizoguchi was unquestionably one of

the very greatest of all film-makers and now at
last there is a book in English from a distinguished
Japanese critic that tells us why. Few in the West
have seen so many Mizoguchi films as Tadao
Sato, nor studied them so deeply and with such
sympathy. This is an invaluable book about
a genius of the cinema."
Derek Malcolm, Honorary President
of the International Federation of Film Critics
Reviews of Mizoguchi's Work
i'Cjne of the 20th century's "WithMizoguchi, form and

grea ;estfilmmakers" idea, atmosphere and feeling
New York Times are indivisible ... his films
are assembled out of images
'On equal terms with Eisenstein, of breathtaking exactness ...
Grif] ith and Renoir" a world which irresistibly
jdan-LucGodard captures and enfolds the
spectator"
•'Thejjapanese director I admire The Times
th e most"
Akin Kurosawa "If you have never witnessed
the visual equivalent of perfect
•'No praise istoo high for him" pitch, or understood how a
Grscn Welles singletracking shot can feellike
a declaration of faith, here is
"He is capable of going beyond your chance. Mizoguchi's work
the limitations of coherent may brim with the fears of
logic,and conveying the deep a fatalist, yet it also gleams
CQm])lexity and truth of the with unexpected hope."
irmpElpable connections and The New Yorker
hidd m phenomena of life"
Ajid] ei Tarkovsky "If any art has justified this
medium, so often crude,
"The greatest of all cineastes" thoughtless and mundane,
Cahiers du Cinema it is the art of Kenji Mizoguchi.
Senses of Cinema
"Whe 1 the name Kenji
Mizc guchi is intoned, every 'Japan's Kenji Mizoguchi
piece of camera equipment is more than simply
on es rth should execute a pantheonworthy (and superior
deep bow. Mizoguchi's gende to his better-knowm peers
bit u nwavering camera Akira Kurosawa and
nurtures and observes his Yasujiro Ozu). He's
characters' often tragic lives absolutely necessary."
with; m emotionalism that is, Time Out New York
pa radoxically, as intense as
any committed to film,yet "This man they call
free cf melodrama." Mizoguchi is an idiot"
The 1'Jew York Sun Kenji Mizoguchi
Kenji Mizoguchi and the
Art of Japanese Cinema
Kenji Mizoguchi and the
Art of Japanese Cinema
Tadao Sato
Translated by
Brij Tankha
Edited by
Aruna Vasudev & Latika Padgaonkar
Oxford • New York

The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of Japan Foundation
and NETPAC in the publication of this book.
English Edition
First published in 2008 by
Berg
Editorial offices:
1st Floor, Angel Court, 81 St Clements Street, Oxford, 0X4 lAW, UK
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010, USA
English language translation © NETPAC (Network for the Promotion

of Asian Cinema) 2008
Original work © Tadao Sato, 1982. Originally published in Japanese
as The WorldofKenji Mizoguchi by Chikuma Shobo Publishing Co. Ltd., Tokyo
All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form
or by any means without the written permission of Berg.
Berg is the imprint of Oxford International Publishers Ltd.
Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

Sato, Tadao, 1930-
[Mizoguchi Kenji no sekai. English]
Kenji Mizoguchi and the art of Japanese cinema / Tadao Sato ;
translated by Brij Tankha ; edited by Aruna Vasudev & Latika
Padgaonkar.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-84788-231-8 (cloth) — ISBN 978-1-84788-230-1
(pbk.) 1. Mizoguchi, Kenji, 1898-1956. 2. Motion picture pro
ducers and directors—Japan—Biography. 1. Vasudev, Aruna. II.
Padgaonkar, Latika. III. Title.
PN1998.3.M58S2813 2008
791.430233092—dc22 2008010839
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 84788 231 8 (Cloth)

ISBN 978 1 84788 230 1 (Paper)
Typeset by Avocet Typeset, Chilton, Aylesbury, Bucks

Printed by the MPG Books Group in the UK
www.bergpublishers.com
Contents
Author's Note vii
Editors' Note ix
1 An Original Spirit 1
2 Encountering the New SchoolTheatre 15
3 From New School Theatre to Naturalism-Realism 31
4 Social Realism 41
5 The Fate of Matinee Idols 55
6 Art Imitates Life 69
7 Three Traditional Art Films {Geidomono) 77
8 A Difficult Woman 85
9 Recreating the Classics 97

10 The Last Works 131
11 The Dialectic of Camera and Performance 143
12 Looking Up, Looking Down 163

List of Illustrations 181
Mizoguchi's Filmography 183

List of English and Original Titles of Films of Other Directors Cited
in the Book 187
Index 189
Author's Note
Between 1922 and 1956 Mizoguchi Kenji made eighty-six films. Among them,
Life of Oharu (1952), Ugetsu (1953), Sansho the Bailiff (1954) are masterpieces,
widely recognized as the finest expressions of the Asian aesthetic tradition.
However, there are many other powerful works as well that deal with the painful
experience of people caught in the process of modernization of Japanese society.
This book is an examination of Mizoguchi Kenji's films, but my main interest
was to evaluate the position of his work within Japan's social and cultural history.
I have often been asked by foreigners interested in Japanese cinema: who among
the great directors, Mizoguchi Kenji, Ozu Yasujiroand KurosawaAkira, is the most
faithful to Japanese tradition, and who has been most influenced by Western culture?
To this question my answer has always been that there has never been a single,
pure Japanese culture. Because of the existence of a feudal hierarchy until the
middle of the nineteenth century, Japanese culture and its ethical and aesthetic sen
sibilities were very different from what they are today. It was around this time that
the class system was abolished and Westernization and modernization began. The
two processes were integrated then and they remain fused even today. However,
when it comes to subtle artistic expression, the continuing influence of the earlier
class culture on the artist is sharply revealed. Kurosawa Akira, who came from a
samurai family, expressed the samurai ethical and aesthetic tradition with skill; Ozu
Yasujiro, who belonged to a well-off merchant family, though he himself was not
particularly rich, made films that are the finest expression of the petit bourgeois
culture created during Japan's modernization; Mizoguchi Kenji's brilliance lay in
transferring to the screen the style of kabuki and the tradition of Japanese dance,
both products of the merchant culture of feudal Japan. Finally, the name of Imamura
Shohei, the film-maker who learnt the most from the largest social class - the
farmers - must be mentioned. This is how these directors were linked to tradition
in their own special way, but each in his own way struggled, under the influence of
Westernization, to create a modem sense of self and transform the individual.
I wrote a series of biographies of these directors from the perspective of this
relationship between Japanese films and Japanese culture. This book is one of the
series. Therefore, more than the usual sort of study of film, this is a social and cul
tural history. This is my critical method.
Tadao Sato
Editors' Note
Mizoguchi Kenji, recognized as one of the world's masters of cinema, has invited
high praise from film-makers and critics from different parts of the world. But the
critical commentary has come principally from Western writers. We have not so far
had the good fortune of reading an insider's view, relating his work to Japanese
history, thought, customs and traditions that found expression in Mizoguchi's
films. Tadao Sato's book on Mizoguchi was first published in Japan in 1982 but has
only now been translated into English. It enables us to 'feel' the films, to 'see' how
the Japanese viewed him, to understand the subtleties of the Japanese way of
thinking, looking, being.
The Japan Foundation gave us at NETPAC-India a grant to get the book trans
lated into English, and we were fortunate enough to be able to draw upon the com
petence of Brij Tankha for this. Having launched and edited Cinemaya (now called
Osian s-Cinemaya) The Asian Film Quarterly for twenty years, for which Tadao
Sato was a regular contributor and Brij Tankha our valued translator, made the task
somewhat easier. All the same, the names, the spellings, the subtleties of the lan
guage presented certain difficulties. We have tried to overcome them, with con
stant cross-checking by Tadao Sato and his wife Hisako. Jahanara Wasi did a
helpful first reading of the manuscript. For Tristan Palmer and Berg Publishers,
considerable rewriting and editing had to be carried out. Aparajita B was tireless
in the corrections and re-corrections that were required in the preparation of the
final manuscript.
We are proud to be associated with this work of Tadao Sato, which is only the
second book of the 130 he has written, to be translated into English. We would like
to express our gratitude to Tadao Sato for his trust in us, and to NETPAC for its
indefatigable promotion of Asian cinema that provided the impetus to embark on
this project.
Aruna Vasudev and Latika Padgaonkar
-1-
An Original Spirit
Mizoguchi Kenji, the eldest son of Mizoguchi Zentaro and Masa, was born on 16
May 1898 at No. 11 Shin Hanamachi Yushima in Tokyo's Kongo district. His sister
Suzu, was three years older than him and his brother Yoshio seven years younger.
Only one brother and one sister are recorded in the family register {koseki) and it
is not clear whether he had other siblings. The Mizoguchi family had been con
tractors living in Kaga-cho, Shimbashi, for generations. Zentaro was so striking to
look at that a kabuki family had been keen to adopt him. A believer in Nichiren (a
thirteenth-century Japanese monk; Nichiren Buddhism is a branch of Buddhism
based on his teachings), he seemed to have been a serious and reserved person. His
grandchildren were told how, when he was young, he was once taken to a geisha
house where he was so frightened that he spent the night curled up in the tokonoma
(alcove).
Mizoguchi Zentaro carried on the family business, but during the war with
Russia saw a new business opportunity in making raincoats. It did not turn out well,
and by the end of the war he lost heavily. His two or three other business ventures
also failed and, receiving no help from his relatives, his house was auctioned to
settle his debts. The family of Kenji's mother, Masa, had been palace doctors for
generations. She had been used to a more comfortable life and tried to handle her
difficulties as best she could, but her husband's failure in business eventually led to
her becoming paralysed. The family then moved to Asakusa and Suzu the daughter,
who was just ten, was put into service with Mikawaya, one of the three famous
geisha houses in Nihonbashi. Suzu became an apprentice geisha to Ohama, the
woman who ran Mikawaya, and who was the lover of Kanagaki Robun.
Bom into an impoverished family, Mizoguchi managed to study only up to
primary school. He was admitted to Asakusa Tagawa Primary School, a sort of
'temple school' or terakoya, and later shifted to Ishihama Primary, a newly estab
lished public school in the neighbourhood. Here he studied with Kawaguchi
Matsutaro who would later become a novelist. Kawaguchi, too, did not go beyond
the primary school level. They were to meet again many years later when
Mizoguchi was a director and Kawaguchi an executive at Daiei (he would be
directly involved in many of Mizoguchi's films in the 1950s), and became close
friends and colleagues. In a conversation in the weekly magazine Sankei (25
December 1955) they look back on their early life:
1
2 • Kenji Mizoguchi and the Art ofJapanese Cinema
Mizoguchi: It's only now that I have finally stopped going to the pawnshop.
Kawaguchi: Well, if you stop going then the kids will go, won't they? The elder kid
probablytakes the father's camera or something. It's amazing isn't it? (laughs)
Mizoguchi: Hey, you know, 1 made my wife go to the pawnshop when 1 got married.
Kawaguchi: Well, 1 was what you might call an errand boy for the pawnshop. And
you... (laughs) After graduating from Sanyabori (Tokyo Asakusa) primary school 1
went to the Fukushimaya pawnshop as an errand boy. It was right in front of the
shop selling kabayaki boxes.
Mizoguchi: There was a beautiful girl at Fukushimaya.
Kawaguchi: Yes, but she was older then me.
Mizoguchi: That's right.
Kawaguchi: My life in the pawnshop didn't last more than half a year. 1was thrown out.
Mizoguchi: You know, in those days ... girls in pawnshops were usually beautiful. This
guy has some connection with pawnshop girls. (Laughs) There was another one,
wasn't there. Takeda's ...? Met her behind the Keio temple.
Mizoguchi: Do you still remember the last time we met when we were young?
Kawaguchi: No, 1 don't.
Mizoguchi: Well it was on my return. Okabe of Sakanya or Kuko, the geta [wooden
sandals] seller was with me. We were hanging around. On the street next to
Danzaimon there is a large ditch. We were planning to do something when you
turned up looking really jaunty in a Tozan kimono, nomeri geta and some strange
cap.
Kawaguchi: That really happened.
Mizoguchi: There was this beautiful woman in Danzaimon's house.
Kawaguchi: She was there, yeah that's for sure.
Mizoguchi: Then there was Tsumakawa's daughter, Wakabayashi.
Kawaguchi: Yeah, she was also a beauty. She was really close to your house. She went
and committed double suicide with a young man named Mizuno.
Mizoguchi: You wrote about that later in Bungeikurabu. It really stirred things up.
People said: 'He should really be taken apart for writing about friends.' Kuko and
Okabe were really angry.
Kawaguchi: It is exactly as in 'Takekurabe'. [Translator's note: ref. to a story by
Higuchi Ichiyo.]
Their reminiscences bring alive the lives of streetwise kids in the downtown area
of a large metropolis, and perhaps it was this cheekiness that shaped them.
As soon as Mizoguchi's sister Suzu, was presented as a hangyoku (not as yet a
full geisha), she became the lover ofViscount Matsudaira Tadamasa, who was nine
years older than her. The Matsudaira family were originally daimyo (powerful
feudal rulers) from Ueda in Shinshu. Although deeply in love with her he was,
nonetheless, a thoroughly indecisive man. Suzu soon became pregnant but had an
abortion, probably to protect the honour of the Viscount's family. It was a time
when the marriage of an aristocrat had to be approved by the Imperial Household
Ministry and marrying a geisha was absolutely prohibited. Suzu continued to live
An Original Spirit • 3
in the house the Viseount had given her in Asakusa where she bore him four chil
dren. Soon after her first child was born, the bachelor Matsudaira was married off
to a 'proper' wife from another aristocratic family. From his family residence in
Eiihara, Shinagawa, he would occasionally go to Akasuka to visit his concubine.
Suzu, like her father, was a follower of Nichiren.
When she was eighteen, Suzu's sick mother and her brother Kenji came to live
with her. Kenji, who had just finished primary school, spent his time hanging
around the neighbourhood. With her youngest brother, the seven-year-oldYoshio,
also in her care, Suzu carried the burden of looking after the whole family,
including her father who lived nearby. In 1915 her mother's condition deteriorated.
She was admitted to Fuji Hospital in Asakusa where she died in October. Suzu
paid for everything.
At the age of eighteen Mizoguchi did not have a fixed job. Suzu took him to
learn a profession from Watanabe,a designer and draughtsman, in Imatogawa. The
following year she moved to Nihonbashi while Mizoguchi moved to a
draughtsman's place in Hamacho. However, he did not hold on to his job. He then
joined Kuroda Kiyoteru's's Aoibashi Western Painting Research Institute at
Figure I Mizoguchi Kenji

Akasaka Tameike City to learn oil painting. The head of the school was Wada
Sanzo. This one year was the only time Mizoguchi spent as a regular student.
Around that time a comic opera was staged by the Rossi couple - a husband-and-
wife team - at the AkasakaRoyalHall nearbyand the Institutewas asked to design
the backdrop. As he worked on this project, Mizoguchi became an opera fan and
began frequenting the Asakusa Opera. He loved the professional storytellers and
rakugo (Japanese verbal entertainment) of the vaudeville, and devoured the novels
of Tolstoy, Maupassant, Soseki, Ozaki, Izumi and Kafu. The year was 1917.
The same year he obtained a post in the advertising department of the Kobe
Yuishin Journal. But this, too, he quit within a year and returned to Tokyo, although
why he stopped working at the newspaper is not clear. He was just twenty and
getting to the age when he needed to have a proper job, but had not come across
one that he felt he could do for the rest of his life. Those times were different from
today when a successful job interview after high school or university leads to a
lifetime career. Then, young men would become apprentices after primary school,
and if the job did not interest them, they would simply leave. It was not unusual to
change jobs frequently and go back home several times. In the process many were
left unqualified and found themselves over the age limit for learning a profession.
Adults worried about the young who only thought about themselves and had no
tenacity. Mizoguchi's sister, too, was anxious about him though it must have been
a difficult time for Mizoguchi himself.
Film Studios in the 1920s
Mizoguchi was friendly with Tomioka Tadashi, a young actor in the Nikkatsu studio
at Mukojima, and with a few other artists as well.Tomioka asked Mizoguchi whether
he would consider becoming an actor in action films, like himself, and introduced
him to the director Wakayama Osamu. However, it turned out that while there was
no requirement for an actor, there was an opening for an assistant. Mizoguchi thus
became an assistant director in 1920 when he was twenty-two years old.
When Mizoguchi announced that he wanted to join a film studio, his father and
sister were not in favour of it but agreed reluctantly at his insistence. It was a normal
reaction because in the common imagination films were associated WiXhyakuza and
wastrels. About ten years after Mizoguchi joined Nikkatsu Studio in Mukojima, the
scriptwriter YodaYoshikata, who had joined the Kyoto Nikkatsu Studio in Uzumasa,
had this to say about the people working at the studio in the early 1930s.
The Senbon gang was led by a man who fought for the underdog and was involved with
Nikkatsu. The head of the Nikkatsu Studio, Ikenaga Hirohisa, was himself a member
of the gang which by and large controlled everyone working in the departments that
dealt with large or small equipment or lights. Many of the older people sported tattoos.
The owner of the small restaurant 'Ronda' - built soon after the studio came up - the
transport division, and Nagata Masakazu or 'Machan' who would often buttonhole
people and harangue them and who also acted as a guide at the studio, were all associ
ated with the Senbon gang and almost all these fellows were from the same primary
school as I was. Most people associated with action films at the time, both actors as
well as those in other jobs, were young, and as one can imagine there was not one who
had not gone through an uncertain and aimless period in his life. Fights were common
and those beaten up were carried away and plunged into the developing bath. I have
seen young men coming out from the bath dyed an apricot colour. There seemed to be
no reason for this. There were even times when someone who became an assistant
director would be taken to the back and pummelled by the young actors. I also heard
of a cameraman who came to work drunk and carrying a knife. (Yoshikata Yoda,
Mizoguchi Kenji, The Man and the Art (Mizoguchi Kenji no hito to geijutsu))
Nagata Masakazu, nicknamed Machan, soon became responsible for Number

One Film, an independent production company. He bad Mizoguchi make the
immortal classics Osaka Elegy and Sisters ofthe Gion. As the bead of Daiei in the
1940s and 1950s, be was also the producer of a series of famous films made by
Mizoguchi in bis last years.
Yoda Yoshikata's comments on the Nikkatsu studio in Kyoto in the 1930s are
fairly representative since most Japanese film studios of the day were much the
Figure 2 Left to right: Mizoguchi Kenji at twenty-eight, actress Sakai Yoneko and
distributor Kawakita Nagamasa. Photograph taken at the Nikkatsu Kyoto Studio in
1926.
same. Their transformation into modem companies started when Toho began pro
ducing films in the style of a properly managed company. This led to a decline in
the acceptance of yakuza and other shady characters, and to a reduction in the fear
psychosis surrounding the industry. A period of militarism began from the end of
the 1930s. People in the film world stopped being wayward and supported the
spread of this ideology by making very serious films that went on to receive
awards.
But maybe there was something good about it being normal to see yakuza and
other layabouts. In any case, because it was that sort of a world, formal qualifica
tions were not expected from those working in the studios. Some were university
graduates and some, like Mizoguchi, had only done primary school. Interestingly,
those who belonged to left-wing movements, those thrown out of universities or
fired from companies, were easily absorbed here. Although the yakuza and the left
ists held diametrically opposed positions, they joined ranks when it came to their
common enemy - the police. Initially, Yoda Yoshikata was a bank employee but
because of his involvement with the movement, he was fired from his job and
joined the film studio.
An assistant director named Seikichi Terakado would often pick fights with the
master, Mizoguchi. But such was the force of his ideas that Mizoguchi would
incorporate many of them into his ambitious projects. Not much is known about
Seikichi Terakado's life. According to one version he had secretly entered the
Soviet Union, graduated from the Far Eastern Communist University, returned to
Japan and joined a left-wing cadre. It appears he used the pen name of Terakado
Seiken, a popular Edo period writer, and that he had converted, discarding his ide
ology to be able to cast an ironic look at the world. It was only in cinema that
someone like him could work with the yakuza. Strange was this world where a suc
cessful yakuza - who had moved up in the world to become an industrialist - and
the left-wing cadre - which had fallen as his ideology crumbled - could live in
harmony.
In was quite normal for people to view young people like Mizoguchi, who had
neither a fixed job nor a skill, just a great love for literature and art, as simply
immature. The film industry was one of the few places willing to employ them.
There is no evidence to show that Mizoguchi had any passionate interest in cinema
- nor had Japanese cinema reached a stage where it was possible to be passionate
about it.
After a little over a year at the studio, Mizoguchi - true to his nature - wanted
to quit. It was Suzu who persuaded him to stay on. Nikkatsu was in turmoil over
the banning of onnagata (men who play women's roles) and all of a sudden there
was an opportunity for Mizoguchi to become a director. The idea of quitting van
ished.
In an interview with Kawaguchi Matsutaro, Mizoguchi speaks about the condi
tions prevailing in the film studio:
Mizoguchi: At first I said I wantedto be an actor. That wasn't possible so I became an

assistant director. Assistant directors sometimes acted as well.
Kawaguchi: You did everything, didn't you?
Mizoguchi: In today's terms I was a sceneshifter. I did the job of an actor, of a techni
cian. I even did the developing.
Kawaguchi: In the old daysassistant directors heldthe reflector, directed the lights and
did whatever had to be done. Today there are unions, and the reflector is the respon
sibility of the light boys. [Abbreviated - TS]
Kawaguchi: There were no lights then, were there?
Mizoguchi: Lights did begin to be used aroundthat time. Stagefootlights and the dark
stage as opposed to the natural lights of the glass stage.
Kawaguchi: The dark stage was there from the beginning ... {Laughs)
Mizoguchi: Well, not everyone knew about reflectors at that time. The year I joined a
location team arrived from America. When we went to see them they were using a
reflector with silver paper. I began to do the same as it was really convenient.Then
I beganto use silverpaper on the shoji(a roomdivideror door consisting of translu
cent paper over a wooden frame) as well. {Laughs)
Directors and the Nikkatsu Mukojima Film Studio
The renowned cameraman, Ohbora Gengo, recalls that Mizoguchi was a polite
and industrious young man. He first worked as an assistant to Oguchi Tadashi, one
of Japanese cinema's earliest directors. In an early interview, Mizoguchi said
Ohbora had previously worked in the Shinpa (New School Theatre) group, but
little is known about his life there. Mizoguchi joined them in 1908, the year after
the Yoshizawa house established a film studio in Meguro Gyojinzaka. The studio
had a creative department which collected stories and another which trained actors
for in-house productions. He worked under the section chief and melodrama
writer, Sato Koroku. In 1913, when the Japan Motion Pictures Limited Company
(Nikkatsu) built a glass-roofed filmstudiowhereyou could filmunder naturallight
(the so-called glass stage), the prolific Sato Koroku shifted there as playwright and
director. Using mainly New School Theatre material he made twenty films in 1918
- including TheForsaken Mother and Rain ofTears- nineteen in 1919 and twenty
in 1920, when Mizoguchi worked as his assistant.
According to the critic Kishi Matsuo, who based his writing on what he had
heard from Kinugasa Teinosuke, a star at the Nikkatsu Mukojima Film Studio, the
situation there was as follows:
Oguchi followed a strict routine of two days on the set and three days on location, pro
ducing a film in a few days. He was really prolific. People like Kinugasa Teinosuke,
who joined the company because of their passion for films, and Tanaka Eizo who
worked briefly as an assistant to Oguchi, wondered whether this was the right approach.
In those days they just read the script out aloud. No directions were given on how to
act and most things were left to the cameraman. {Collected Works of Japanese Film
Directors (Nihon Eiga kantoku zenshu) Kinemajunpo-sha)
However, not all directors were like Oguchi Tadashi. Suzuki Kensaku, for
instance, was a stickler for getting things right. It was said that when he started a
film, no one knew when it would be completed. He was perhaps the first Japanese
director to experiment with realism. In Mans Pain (1923) - his most representa
tive film - one of the actors who had to play the role of a starving man was ordered
not to eat for a while. He obeyed faithfully and played the role in a starved and
weakened state. It was just a walk-on role but the cameraman made a mistake in
the speed of the film. The result was that while the man was supposed to drag
himself along slowly, what actually appeared was him flashing comically across
the screen. The actor exclaimed, T'll kill that damned Suzuki.' He took a gun to
the studio and chased the director. This is a story that I heard directly from Inagaki
Hiroshi, a young actor at the studio and who later won the Golden Lion at the
Venice Film Festival for his film. The Rickshaw Man.
Frustrated with the Modem Theatre movement (Shingeki) that had come under
the influence of Western theatre, Tanaka Eizo joined the film studio and worked
briefly as Oguchi Tadashi's assistant. His artistic and richly pictorial work captured
the Japanese spirit and skilfully guided actors in painting delicate psychological
portraits. After working for Oguchi Tadashi, Mizoguchi became an assistant to
Tanaka Eizo and learnt a great deal from him. However, directors like Suzuki
Kensaku or Tanaka Eizo, or actors with artistic ambitions like Kinugasa Teinosuke,
were still the exception.
Today an assistant director is an aspiring artist who stands at the top of the
industry, and belongs to a select super class. When Mizoguchi entered the film
world he may have been called an assistant director but his job was little more than
that of a general handyman. Even the director had nothing to do with guiding the
performance or devising new cinematic techniques. He had merely to ensure that
shooting went according to schedule. The camera was fixed for each scene and
actors performed as they saw fit. The director would sit next to the camera, read
the scenario out aloud, make sure that the actor was within the frame and just fix
the basic movements. It was not a job that required any special training; for an
assistant director, primary level education sufficed to be accepted. Within two
years of assiduous work as an assistant doing everything that was asked of him,
Mizoguchi was promoted to director.
However, unlike Mizoguchi, not everyone who became a director had only had
basic education. Wakayama Osamu, the director who took Mizoguchi into the
Nikkatsu studio, was twelve years older than Mizoguchi (he was born in 1886) and
had finished middle school. Suzuki Kensaku, from whom Mizoguchi learnt how to
construct a drama, was thirteen years his senior, and had graduated from a com
mercial school. Tanaka Eizo, Mizoguchi's master and twelve years older than him.
was an intellectual who had struggled to graduate from a technical college. He

went on to study at the Tokyo Actors School.
Among Mizoguchi's contemporaries, director Murata Minoru - a friendly rival
who worked in the same studio at the end of the silent film era - was the scion of
a rich family which supported the choices he made. After graduating from the elite
school attached to the Tokyo Higher Teachers' College, he worked in the Modern
Theatre movement. He was first a stage actor, and later a film director; he was four
years older than Mizoguchi.
Kinugasa Teinosuke, who was two years older than Mizoguchi, also came from
an affluent family. He did primary school, studied English, and at fifteen left home
to become an actor in the New School Theatre movement. When Mizoguchi joined
Nikkatsu Mukojima Studio, he was a popular onnagata star, but recognizing the
limitations of onnagata roles, he switched to working as a director. Kinugasa was
bored with the basic style of acting in films and felt that by dividing the shot more
finely, a work with greater cinematic appeal could be produced.
As a rule, directors did no more than shoot according to schedule. But not all.
Suzuki Kensaku felt dissatisfied with the budding realist style, and Tanaka Eizo
began to incorporate the aestheticism of the New School Theatre into his cinema.
Well before indigenous artistic and technical developments had matured in
Japanese films, most directors had been exposed to foreign films - D.W Griffith,
Eric von Stroheim or Chaplin - and Japanese films had felt the impact of The
Cabinet ofDr Caligari. In Mizoguchi's generation anybody wishing to become a
director (irrespective of his educational background) had been awe-struck by
foreign films and began joining the studios. Ushihara Kyohiko, a year older than
Mizoguchi, was the first graduate from Tokyo Imperial University to want to be a
director. But while he did achieve top educational honours, he was denied permis
sion to join industry by the former ruler of Kumamoto, from whom he had
received a scholarship. His contemporary Shimazu Yasujiru had passed middle
school. Mizoguchi's contemporary Ito Daisuke finished middle school, went to
Tokyo to attend lectures at Meiji University, learnt theatre acting under Osanai
Kaoru, wrote scripts and then moved to direction. Another contemporary, Uchida
Tomu, did two years of middle school, moved to odd jobs, and finally entered the
film world. Futagawa Buntaro, a year younger than Mizoguchi, who showed con
siderable acting skills in the early samurai dramas of Bando Tsumasaburo, left
Chuo University. Tasaka Tomotaka, four years younger, left No. 3 High School
midway while Gosho Heinosuke, from the same high school, graduated from Keio
Commercial College and Yamamoto Kajiro from Keio University.
Slowly graduates from high school and university started joining up, though
there were still examples of people like Inagaki Hiroshi (born in 1905) who began
as a child actor and therefore hardly attended even primary school, but still went on
to became a master. Mizoguchi's disciple, Shindo Kaneto (born in 1912), graduated
in science from high school and is today among the top names in Japanese cinema.
Those with basic education found it difficult to compete with their better-edu
cated counterparts. The industry attracted people with grit and determination.
Qualities like intelligence were not deemed necessary. They learned to make films
by imbibing the craft through a master-disciple apprenticeship. But with each
passing year, film-making seemed to demand a higher intellectual understanding
and those who could not keep up, like some of the old workmanlike directors, fell
by the wayside. Even the technical expertise acquired through years of work was
not enough. What was needed to keep pace and stay ahead of the younger lot was
a fiercely combative spirit and continuous study.
Time of Self-Cultivation and Aptitude
Mizoguchi became a director at the Nikkatsu Mukojima studio in 1922. In the

summer of 1923, when the studio was destroyed in the great Kanto earthquake,
Mizoguchi moved to Kyoto where Nikkatsu had another studio. He was to work sub
sequently with many other studios, moving from Nikkatsu to Shinko Kinema, Daiichi
Eiga, Shochiku, Toho, Shin Toho, Daiei and others. His base, however, was Kyoto.
Always sensitive to the new and fashionable, Mizoguchi feared he would fall
behind the times if he did not relocate to Tokyo. He tried frequently to work in the
capital but for some reason most of his Tokyo work - with the exception of The
Straits ofLove and Hate (1937) - was a failure, either because he had problems
adjusting to a new city, or because he was not blessed with a good support staff, or
perhaps for both these reasons. Kyoto more than Tokyo had innumerable old-style
artisans. Among the staff and actors, many shared Mizoguchi's demand for thor
ough craftsmanship and dedication. Not one to bother with details himself,
Mizoguchi let his staff handle a variety of problems. What he needed most of all
was to gather around him a group of excellent and sincere people who understood
his working style. He would give them tasks to do, and then would make changes
and take the final decision.
Working in Kyoto - the home ofthe traditional arts - for most ofhis life had a deci
sive influence on Mizoguchi. He studied kabuki, noh and traditional Japanese dance
and music. To study kabuki or bunraku (traditional puppet theatre) meant learning
playwriting techniques and going back to the origins of the performance techniques.
Kabuki, particularly in Osaka and Kyoto, centred on the role of a handsome youth.
Mizoguchi had a deep knowledge of tradition and his extensive study allowed him to
produce some artistic masterpieces in the 1940s and 1950s. Films such as The Life of
Oharu, Ugetsu mdA Storyfrom Chikamastu are based on material from classical lit
erature and drama which Mizoguchi used with assured knowledge.
It was refreshing to see the way a Tokyo person looked at human relations and
customs in the Kansai (near Osaka). Mizoguchi's Osaka Elegy was the first film to
use the Osaka dialect and show Osaka customs.
An Original Spirit *11
Close friends of Mizoguchi have said that he was a voracious reader. He worked
tirelessly and expected the same effort from those who worked with him. Tanaka
Kinuyo, the lead actress in A Woman ofOsaka, went from Tokyo to Kyoto to meet
him. Mizoguchi would send books wrapped in cloth (furoshiki) to her hotel
through his assistant Sakane Tazuko. This carried on for some time and there was
no sign of shooting the film. All he kept telling her was, 'Just read these books,
just read them.' A Woman of Osaka is a work based on the world of bunraku and
Tanaka Kinuyo's role is that of a smart, strong wife who encourages her husband
to become a master of the samisen. The books sent to her were all specialized
works on bunraku. On a normal working day, Tanaka Kinuyo would be hurrying
from one location to another; but this time she found the change relaxing and
enjoyed the time she had to read. Mizoguchi believed that to understand bunraku
one had first to study it carefully.
Like Mizoguchi, Tanaka Kinuyo, too, did not have much of an education, and
she took this demand to study as a challenge. The more she read, the more she was
fired by a competitive spirit. Mizoguchi's emphasis on reading extended to other
actors as well. When Kagawa Kyoko played Anju, the woman slave in Sansho the
Bailiff, Mizoguchi asked her to study the history of the medieval slave system to
understand and identify with the character. Moreover, he wanted his staff to put in
the same effort as he did. Yoshimura Kozaburo writes in his memoirs. The Life of
Film, about how he saw Mizoguchi in a flaming temper on the sets of My Love
Burns. 'These fellows are all turncoats,' he shouted. 'They are rebels who will
destroy Japanese cinema!' Yoshimura Kozaburo wondered what had caused this
outburst. It turned out that Mizoguchi was enraged at the way the set was being
built and because the shooting was not going as scheduled.
I believe this is behaviour typical of a self-made man whose exaggerated anger
is like a flash of lightning, like a father's anger. Self-made men who reach the top
often feel that their accomplishment is based not only on their abilities but on
sheer hard work. Nothing makes them angrier than when that effort is perceived to
be lacking, when people rise in their professions simply because they are better
educated, good-looking or naturally gifted.
There is a story of the scriptwriter, Yoda Yoshikata, who arrived in Tokyo and
went to one of the city's best restaurants with Mizoguchi. As they entered they
found that the cook had wheeled in a wagon next to the tables and was grilling
steaks over the charcoal fire with great flair. Mizoguchi was really taken by this
and burst out, 'This is it. This is it. If you retreat to a place like Kyoto you don't
expect to see such new things.'
What the chef was doing was indeed innovative but Yoda Yoshitaka was embar
rassed by Mizoguchi's naive enthusiasm and by the amused looks of the other
guests This interest and absorption in the 'new' to the point that nothing else mat
tered was typical of the director whose aim was always be a step ahead of the
others. In his early days as a director he would often use translations of foreign
novels or copies of foreign films. Perhaps his return in later years to a serious, tra
ditional aesthetic was his way of breaking away from this superficial fascination
with the 'new'.
Several instances illustrate Mizoguchi's almost comic love for the new. He was
not satisfied just reading the novels he liked, he also read books that were being
talked about by his friends. If a friend - Seikichi Terakado for instance - discussed
a new literary trend or an intellectual problem, and if Mizoguchi was asked if he
had read about it, he would never admit he hadn't. He would say something to the
effect that he had a general idea. He would then immediately send out his assistant
to buy a book that explained the problem and read it at one go. Thus, not to
outdone by smart young men, he would bluff his way through. Often he would just
recycle what he had heard but understood only superficially.
During the filming of Ugetsu, he asked Yoda Yoshikata for some revision in the
first script, stressing that Yoda must study Salvador Dali. It is not clear how far
Mizoguchi actually understood Dali, or Dali's relevance to his own work. Yoda
understood the words to mean that since Mizoguchi was looking at Dali he wanted
a surrealist treatment, and he therefore rewrote the scenario with an abundance of
surrealist imagery. But this, it seems, was not what the director had wanted him to
do. However, since Mizoguchi had asked for a revision and the script had been
revised, he did not admit that it was not what he wanted. Irritated, he took the script
to the Daiei head, Nagata Masakazu. When Nagata said that he could not under
stand it, Mizoguchi felt justified in reverting to the original script. After that
Mizoguchi never spoke of Dali again.
This is how Mizoguchi would regurgitate undigested ideas. But his sensitivity
about his modest education prevented him from being able to laugh at his lack of
a broad knowledge base. This is not to say that all university graduates have a basic
understanding of Salvador Dali and surrealism; but the well-educated are at least
secure in their learning and rarely feel embarrassed that they do not know what
that is outside their field of learning; they are frank, not apologetic, about their
ignorance. People like Mizoguchi have a sense of insecurity about their poor edu
cation and lack of a well-rounded culture. They tend to store up unrelated bits of
information and rarely confess their ignorance, fearing that they will be looked
upon as fools.
Bluffing means pretending to know something that you don't. It is generally
taken as a sign of shallowness. Mizoguchi bluffed without any constraint, unafraid
that he would be exposed. He went further, straining to prove that his bluff was not
a lie. Deception is an integral part of the world of cinema. It is not criticized for
being superficial; rather, it is praised as an indication of a lovable childishness.
Mizoguchi demanded a colossal effort from those around him and for this was
feared and respected. That he would not permit cutting corners became part of a
respected tradition in the cinema world and was passed on with pride. It boosted
the morale of his colleagues and it made it easier to get good budgets.
Mizoguchi once told Tanaka Kinuyo that Japanese actors did not really know the
life of the bourgeoisie and they could not play bourgeois characters. Tanaka took
this as a challenge and immediately bought a fine residence to see what living there
felt like. Although she lived alone and felt that a hotel was far more convenient
than a large house, she took this as a game and played it in earnest when she
bought the house. Mizoguchi seemed to have been surrounded by people who took
up the challenges he threw at them in earnest. Sometimes it was more than a game
and some came out as losers.
Earlier, in the era of silent films, Irie Takako, a lead actress and production
supervisor, had got Mizoguchi to produce many well-known films. In later years
when she had lost her star status, she made a comeback with the help of her many
friends. She was given a small role in Mizoguchi's film. Princess Yang Kwei-fei.
He made her practise this simple role repeatedly and, getting quite ill-tempered,
refused to be satisfied. He had agreed to taking her on because the company had
demanded it; in no way, he claimed, was he working to help unemployed actresses.
Irie Takako understood Mizoguchi's feelings and withdrew from the role. He then
had the company ask for the famous actress Sugimura Haruko. Irie Takako felt so
insulted that she gave up acting for good. Mizoguchi's close friends, who knew
how big a star Irie Takako had been in his earlier films, were incensed. They felt
he was being really heartless. But Mizoguchi maintained that if a person was not
useful for his work he would have no compunction in getting rid of him or her.
Since he himself put in so much work, he added, so too, should his co-workers.
Only those who could keep up with his enthusiasm could make a name for them
selves in his films.
In the early days of the talkies Yamada Isuzu appeared in Osaka Elegy and
Sisters of the Gion, two masterpieces that made a name for Mizoguchi. The
daughter of an actor father and an artist mother, she became an actress herself at
the age of fourteen, playing roles of winsome young girls. In her autobiography.
Together with Films (Eiga to tomo ni, 1953), she recalls these two landmark works
which marked her transition from a sweet young thing to a great actress:
Mizoguchi-san was always very nice but when work started he became difficult.
Physically too, the work was extremely strenuous. I am certain it was in The Downfall
of Osen (1934) that for long hours I had my head stuck in a washing bowl half-alive
and half-dead. But for Mizoguchi-san it was all quite normal.
However, during a break on a cold day waiting for the set to be cleared, if I said, Tt
is cold isn't it', he would cover me with an overcoat. I thought that if he really is like
this it would be better if he were a little kinder during work as well.
In those days the critics labelled him a sadist. Certainly he was extremely ambitious
about his work, and as an artist he had a passion for thoroughness. However, I was
never afraid of that. I never uttered a complaint. While making a film the relationship
between a director and an actor can be, on the surface at least, acrimonious. But it
sparkles inside. Mizoguchi's technique is a typical example of this.
Among Mizoguchi's early supporters quite a few were self-made men -

Kawaguchi Matsutaro and Nagata Masakazu among others. The scriptwriter Yoda
Yoshikata was an alumnus of a commercial school. Many of the actors were not
what can be called intellectuals but they were certainly able to handle Mizoguchi's
provocative pretence.
In the introduction to The Collected Screenplays of Yoda Yoshikata (Yoda
Yoshikata scenarioshu, 1946) Mizoguchi wrote:
Yoda-kun worked very hard for many years for me, just like a wife. I basically hate
talking. Really, I think words lack freedom. I always think impatiently so that before
speaking I am already irritated at not finding the proper words. So I always come across
as some raging beast. People think I say things unnecessarily, but it's not I who am at
fault. It is language itself that is to blame. Yoda-kun understood that about me so he
would let me have my say and carry on with his work.
I think no one understands Yoda-kun's working style better than me. His first draft is
never very interesting. When I point this out he changes it dramatically and produces a
really outrageous second draft. I don't know how many times I have been embarrassed
by such revisions. Even if the first wasn't really interesting, by and large it achieved
what it set out to do. The second draft is almost the opposite of the first. If you tell him
what you think of it he will bring a third draft. At this point an unrecognisable glow is
released. [Abbreviated from original - TS]
-2-
Encountering the New School Theatre
History and Background of Japanese Melodrama
Soap operas are extremelypopular on television today. Directed mainly at the house
wife, they show elegant,well-groomedwomen in their thirties and forties who spend
an inordinate amount of time trying to form relationships with men. The men regard
these beautiful women as something more than mere objects of sexual desire; they
also respect their character and spirit. Middle-aged women who constitute the
majority of the viewers, have begun to feel that they should receive this kind of
respectfulattention in their own relationswith men. But reality is very differentfrom
soap operas, and the attitudes of men vary greatly with age. Men in Japan can be
highhanded, but in younger men this arrogance appears to be on the decline.
The possibilities of ordinary friendships between the sexes in the younger gen
eration have given rise to a special type of soap opera where the 'respectful' treat
ment of women is so ludicrous it appears exaggerated. If it's equality that we're
after, then this artificially imposed attitude towards women is the reverse of male
imperiousness. On the other hand, if male violence against women has decreased,
it is because the idea of gender equality has gained acceptance in society. Perhaps
soap operas have played a role in promoting these ideas.
Respect towards women was difficult to find during the Edo or the Meiji period.
In kabuki, highborn princesses are treated with great respect not because of their
innate character but because of their social status.
Newspaper articles on crime inform us that the incidence of adultery in the early
Meiji period was very high. We know of cases where a mother petitioned against
the father's relations with their adopted daughter (1872, in Tokyo); where a
daughter was raped by her real father and, when enticed into other relationships,
surrendered to the police (1873, in Tokyo); where a husband who petitioned
against his wife's adulterous relationship was in turn accused by his wife of rela
tions with his own stepmother. In all these cases, both parties were punished. We
also have an instance of a wife accusing her husband of an illicit relationship, and
though the man was given three years' imprisonment, the wife, because she had
accused her husband, had to pay a fine of seven yen fifty sen (1873, in Shimane).
Many unsavoury and incestuous relations within the family were treated as
crimes. For example, in 1873 (Meiji 6) in Tokyo's Honjho Yanagishima-cho dis-
15
trict, a father raped his daughterduring his wife's absence. The daughterran away
to live with a family running a restaurant, but she was called back to nurse her
ailing father. Subsequently, a complaint was lodged at the local police station
{koban) that she was being sold off as a concubine. However, the father died while
the case was being heard. This young woman was quoted as saying, T have lost my
moral standing because of this transgression and deserve to be given life impris
onment. When I was young I was put in debt for thirty-five yen' {Tokyo Nichinichi
Shinbun, 30 October 1873). This was large sum in those days. The court actually
threatened this woman who sought punishment against her rapist father, who later
sold her as a concubine. She was told that because she was young the court was
being generous, and that she actually deserved to be given a life sentence. I do not
know what happened to her - she disappeared from the records. Did she pay off
the debt, one wonders? It was a time when poor women with financial problems
sold themselves to brothels.
But these crime stories about ordinary women in the early Meiji period in Japan
also show that not all women who were ill-treated by men sat and wept quietly, and
resigned themselves to their fate. A fair number retaliated by taking their cases to
court. However, any fightback by women was seen as a crime under the law. In case
of an appeal against adultery committed by a man, not only would the man be pun
ished, but the wife, too, would be sentenced. It was not that women had a poor
understanding of human rights - they were crushed by the courts. And while it is
unclear how people reacted to the logic of the court, there is, in fact, little evidence
to show that people thought of it as unfair (apart from those women who fought
back, like a mouse cornered by a cat). It is likely that most people accepted the
judgements as correct.
True, this was a part of feudal thinking which sought to justify male dominance;
but it was also supported by the notion of male-female discrimination inherent in
Confucianism and the form that Buddhism took in Japan. The idea that women are
bom sinners meant that even a compassionate Bodhisattva would find it difficult
to save her. Women must subordinate themselves to men - this was the credo of
the times, and its practice stands clearly revealed when women were punished,
even when they were the victims.
The true story of the murder ofTakahashi Oden, known as the Vampire, became
notorious in the early Meiji period. Although Takahashi Oden's plight should have
aroused public sympathy, she was called a vampire (wicked woman) precisely
because of the kind of thinking described above. Since a woman's very existence
was regarded as fundamentally a sin, all she could do was try and live modestly
and chastely to prevent her true nature from surfacing. She must not try and exer
cise her own judgement, but must depend on the judgement of men. In fact it was
preferable for a raped woman to believe that the devil in her had lured the man into
committing the crime, rather than to blame the man's evil nature. If she thought for
herself or acted independently, she would be giving free rein to wickedness, and
Encountering the New School Theatre • 17
the consequences would be frightening. Such ideas were deeply rooted, and they
showed up in exaggerated stories. Takahashi Oden's story is an example of this.
Conversations with the Demon Takahashi Oden, written in 1879 under the pen
name Kanagaki Robun, is regarded as the most representative work to define the
role of women before modern melodrama came to Japan, although the first work
in the period of women's modem melodrama is Hototogisu. Written by Tokutomi
Roka and serialized in a newspaper in 1898, this is a landmark novel because the
woman with a pure heart is extolled as a man's ideal object of devotion. Based on
a traditional theme from the feudal period, the novel initially stirred the people
who saw it as the tragedy of a young wife harassed by her mother-in-law. This very
traditional theme captured the hearts of the conservative-minded; however, since it
opposed the prevailing attitude of regarding women as contemptible and, on the
contrary, praised them as objects of worship, it explains why it became one of the
avant-garde works of popular culture of the new age.
It is well known that the model for Nami, the heroine of the novel, was the
daughter of the aristocrat, General Oyama Iwao. Had she been a character in
kabuki, she would have been a princess. The feudal notion of status underlies the
respectful and courteous style in which her noble character is described. When it
became a best-seller, this work set the trend for tragic family novels which soon
began to be serialized in newspapers. Their popularity continued until the Taisho
period. Most of them had either a daughter of an aristocrat or a woman of high
status as the heroine or, alternatively, a woman from an old family who was wooed
by a young man from a noble house whom she then married. Initially the idea of
honouring women developed as an extension of the feudal notion of prostrating
oneself before a princess.
Tokutomi Roka attacks the ill treatment of the daughter-in-law by the mother-
in-law and defends her fundamental rights. This was the result of the deep influ
ence of Christianity, the new philosophy of the times. Children of the educated
upper classes welcomed it as modern and even fashionable. How far Christian phi
losophy actually respects women is another matter; after all, in Catholicism, God
is the father. The basic idea is that by honouring the father, you honour the male.
However, Christianity entered Japan not just as a religion but as a new Western
fashion, and the worship of women was integral to it.
What does worshipping women mean? Medieval chivalric romances show us
that this became a part of Western thought with the introduction of Madonna-
worship in Christianity. The worship of Mother Mary cannot be separated from the
essential teachings of Christianity. Why should this be so, especially in
Catholicism where it is a sturdily held belief? The worship of Mother Mary is par
ticularly strong in Italy, as is the power of the mother within the family; so, too, in
the Philippines, with its tradition of matrilineal families. Under Spanish domina
tion Filipinos were converted to Catholicism and there arose a unique form of
Christianity in which the worship of Mother Mary became even more entrenched
than in the original religion, perhaps because the idea of the absolute power of the
father in Christianity did not harmonize with the country's indigenous culture. It
is through the worship of Mother Mary that a balance was struck with the worship
of the patriarch.
The chivalric romances of knights are full of adulterous stories. The knights are
supposed to set out on their adventures because of their Christian faith but, in
reality, it is either for the sake of their lord's honour or because of their passionate
love for a woman, sometimes the wife of a senior knight. As Christianity forbids
adultery, it is contradictory that knights smitten by adulterous love set out in its
name. This, too, is an expression of an unorthodox philosophy, arising out of a
secret resistance to the authoritarianism of Christianity's male-centredness which
demands absolute obedience to a patriarchal God. In these romances of chivalrous
knights, it is from the woman more than from God the Father that the man derives
his sense of honour, leading to the idea that the knight will battle against his lord
who is the husband of the noblewoman whom he seeks to honour through his
worship.
All of this is very different from Japanese bushido which is often compared to
the spirit of chivalry among knights. According to the code of chivalry, should a
conflict arise between the knight's love for his lady and his loyalty to his lord, the
knight must without hesitation choose his lady love. In the code of bushido, on the
other hand, the samurai must unhesitatingly choose loyalty to his lord and sacrifice
his love for the lady. If a person - perhaps a merchant rather than a samurai - fails
to do so, the lovers must commit suicide together; they would thus fulfil at one
stroke their love for each other and apologize to their lord for their transgression.
I take the argument further by stating that the tradition of fighting the lord for the
love of a woman, although feudal in its origin, has become the basic philosophy
for modern individualism and democracy.
Tales of chivalric knights were very popular in medieval Europe, but they died
out because many of the stories were rather absurd. But the idea of the hero
winning the heroine at the end, however, became the archetype of all Western
melodrama. When this melodrama entered Japan after the Meiji period through
novels, plays and films, the Japanese found to their astonishment that the dignity
lay with the women, while the men went down on their knees before them.
Intellectually, too, women were represented in a much better light than they were
in Japan.
The playwright Akimoto Matsuyo, who was born in 1911, reminisces about the
plays he went to see as a child with his mother:
The plays we saw in those days were mostly kabuki and those I liked were all about a
world steeped in violent terror. People were killed, or killed themselves for love. It was
the hour of death and the place soaked in blood, women were lamenting, and men and
women in strange costumes, dancing.
I saw only one truly wonderful actress in those plays: Matsui Sumako in the role of
Katushya in Resurrection and that scene is engraved in my memory. The arrogant,
laughing face of the Western Tady' pouring scorn on the elegantlydressed Nekhlyudov
who pays a call on her - it was a scene out of hell. Even as my eyes were captivated by
the wonderful scene, I noted with surprise that there were women like this in the West.
Yetit was only on that one occasion that this kind of a Tady' appeared in a play.All the
other plays had sad Japanese women or women who were murdered. (Akimoto
Matsuyo, The Time of My Mother (Saigetsu no naka no haha) in Plays and theArtistic
Life (Gikyoku to jisseikatsu), Heibonsha Publishers)
Resurrection was a Modem Theatre play based, quite patently, on Tolstoy's story, and
Matsui Sumako was the renowned stage star about whom Mizoguchi Kenji would
make a film, The Love ofSumako the Actress in 1947, showing her as a pioneer of
the women's liberation movement. Akimoto Matsuyo probably saw Resurrection in
the latter half of the 1910s, but by then women had begun to be depicted with a
certain dignity. New and modem scenes that portrayed a more respectful attitude
towards women, and expressed men's remorse for their wrongdoing were viewed
with surprise. But such plays began to influence young women to think differently.
After all, there was no tradition of tales of chivalry in Japanese culture. On the con
trary, women were either looked upon as impure, as in Buddhism, or discriminated
against, as in Confucianism. No wonder 'women were always crying and sad' or
were being killed in both kabuki and the New School Theatre.
The concept of double suicide, a much-loved theme, where a weak-willed but
handsome man falls in love with a prostitute in the pleasure quarters and the two
end up killing themselves, was very different. Love as an ideal - which people
began to take some pride in - was a new notion, transmitted to Japan from the West
in the Meiji period. Viewed as the product of an advanced civilization, it was
adopted by a small section of progressive intellectuals of the upper classes. The
Little Cuckoo (Hototogisu), written by Tokutomi Roka, an upper-class samurai,
was heavily influenced by Western melodrama.
The Western concept of love grew into a model beloved of aristocratic women.
The woman protagonist of The Little Cuckoo had to belong to the upper classes.
But Japanese upper-class women, unlike Western noblewomen, were never trained
to fight male oppression. The female protagonist in this play happily accepts the
love of her husband but never questions his cruelty towards his mother. As for the
mother, she merely laments her fate till her dying day. This Japanese-style melo
drama, combining the celebration of a love marriage and the feudal maltreatment
of brides, touched middle-class women deeply when it was serialized in a news
paper; and with its adaptation to the stage and the screen its influence extended to
the lower classes as well.
This best-seller inspired innumerable romances or so-called family novels - My
Fault (Ono ga tsumi), The Mother and Son-in-Law (Nasanu naka), Whirpool
(Uzumaki), etc. - what gained wide popularity from the late Meiji to the Taisho
period. Family novels were what women loved to read. Unlike today's 'home
drama' they contained a message for women from good families who were
unaware of the world outside: there are many predators, the novels said, who will
seduce and ruin you, so it is important to be cautious.
New School Theatre - Origins of Modern Film
Most such novels, were dramatized for the stage, and became big hits of the New
School Theatre. They established a new theatrical style in the late nineteenth
century based on innovations of kabuki and old-style drama. Since it was difficult
to portray Western manners in the exaggerated kabuki style, these innovations
helped to express them as realistically as possible. However, kabuki continued to
exert a strong influence, and this was evident in the way many plays were struc
tured. For one, women's roles were played not by women but by onnagata; for
another, the influence was embedded in the musical rhythms and intonations of the
lines and in the ukiyoe-likQ beauty of the form - something much more important
than realism.
The two leading male roles were based on long-accepted concepts: that of a
strong and reliable man who does not form any attachments; and that of a frivo
lous and unreliable but handsome man, a matinee idol, specializing in love scenes.
Scripts were written with these star roles in mind.
The end of the onnagata and the matinee idol coincided with the rise of realism.
With the Modem Theatre movement in the early 1900s, the Western play began to
be directly copied and transplanted. Although shinpa means 'new', it was already
something of a traditional form when compared to the newness of the Modem
Theatre, shingeki. But the Modern Theatre tended to be highbrow, avant-garde and
political, and was alien to the vast majority. Until the 1920s, the most popular the
atrical form among the masses remained shinpa.
While the early actors and directors of period films were mainly from kabuki,
most of the actors, scriptwriters and directors of modern drama films, gendaigeki
eiga, were from shinpa theatre. Kinugasa Teinosuke, for instance, became an
onnagata star at Nikkatsu Mukojima after leaving shinpa theatre where he had
also been an onnagata. Eventually, when realism in film spelt the end of the onna
gata, he switched to directing. Just as period films were based on kabuki, modern
drama films have their origins in shinpa, which is why modern drama films were
initially-known as shinpa films.
In their content, shinpa films were influenced by Western romantic melodrama,
while kabuki influenced the form of modern drama films. The preferred material
for these films was the dramatization of family novels, since the ordinary viewer
found the Western-inspired love stories between men and women of the nobility or
Encountering the New School Theatre *21
the upper classes too fanciful. Here, through a variety of devices, melodrama made
the lives of the elite a part of the life of the ordinary people. However, for the
Japanese, adopting the Western idea of love was not easy.All 'decent', respectable
people deemed it a superficialWesternmodernism, vulgar and 'loose'. A marriage
partner would normally be found either by parents or, at the very least, on the
advice of parents or some older person. Professions such as geisha, artist or actor
were not considered desirable. It was natural, therefore, that male or female leads
would be chosen from such dubious backgrounds.
Most of the shinpa plays written in the Meiji and Taisho period appear absurdly
outdated today, and are largely forgotten except for three that were based on Izumi
Kyoka's original stories: Portrait of a Bride, Cascading White Threads and The
Nihon Bridge. These hits, these classics of shinpa, continue to enthral contempo
rary audiences when performed by well-known actors. What explains their popu
larity is that the protagonist is either a geisha or a female artist. These women,
unlike ladies of the upper classes, are venerable and priceless objects, but they
cannot exercise their independence. Familiar with the hardships of life, they know
how to differentiate between an honest man and the man who makes empty prom
ises; they desperately want to leave behind their artificial lives and take the hon
ourable path. Like Katushya in Resurrection, they cannot laugh openly in the
presence of men; but they do resemble characters from Western melodrama for,
while ruing their entanglement in an unhappy love, they believe love to be sublime.
When Mizoguchi Kenji joined the Nikkatsu Mukojima Film Studio which spe
cialized in making such shinpa films, the onnagata were still around. They con
tinued to train in the kabuki style, but no close-up shots could be taken because -
for example - their Adam's apple showed up! It was now being argued that
women's roles should be played by women. Soon, the onnagata star, Kinugasa
Teinosuke, became a director and returned to Makino Films.
Oguri Takeo, who replaced Kinusaga, starred in the first few films Mizoguchi
made. Mizoguchi had already made My Fault (1926), Nihonbashi (1929),
Cascading White Threads (1933) and some others in the style of shinpa plays.
Working with the Nikkatsu Mukojima Film Studio meant adapting Western
romances to fit the Japanese cultural climate. This much said, it was neither easy
to change the spirit of glorifying men and underplaying women, nor did the
viewers expect to see it.
Shinpa Films in the Nikkatsu Mukojima Film Studio: The Case of

The Quiet Two
As far as I know, of all the shinpa films made at the Mukojima Nikkatsu Film
Studio, only one - The Quiet Two - based on the original script by Yanagawa
Shunyo, is extant. Its rights were then in the hands of the Matsuda Film Company.
Nothing is known of when it was made, who the director was or who else was
involved. What we do know is that Nakayama Utako had a role in it, and that she
joined Nikkatsu in 1920. The studio was destroyed in the Great Kanto earthquake
in 1923 and it was probably around this time - when Mizoguchi was an assistant
director - that the film was made. Inagaki Hiroshi, then an actor at the studio, says
it may have been directed by Ohbora Gengo.
Although my generation is not really nostalgic about the Nikkatsu Mukojima
Film Studio, we are nonetheless deeply interested in the style and content of the
films it produced and the stars who acted in them, for this is where Kinugasa
Teinosuke and Mizoguchi Kenji began their careers. In these films lay the origin
of women's melodrama, and it is to this melodrama that contemporary television
drama is directly linked. This is also the very emotional world that Kinugasa
Teinosukelovingly cultivated. Simultaneously, it forms the basis for the tragedy of
women in Mizoguchi's films.
Mizoguchi was a pioneer in bringing modem realism into Japanese films. But
because of his great stature and success, there are debates about whether he was a
natural realist, or whether he worked from a perspective of critical realism or from
a humanist vision. Before we discuss Mizoguchi from the modem perspective, we
should note that he was first and foremost a shinpa director, and his films make this
clear. Cascading White Threads and The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums were
archetypal shinpa plays. These late works - so praised by the young nouvelle vague
directors of Europe who understood their artistic base - show a typical shinpa sen
sibility. I recall several scenes where this influence is visible: the last scene in
Sansho the Bailiff, when mother and child meet again on the coast of Sado; or the
place from where Hasegawa Kazuo and Kagawa Kyoko escape in A Story from
Chikamatsu. Here we see two people dear to each other but kept apart by social
pressures. We see the time it takes before they can be united. It is infinitely moving
to watch as they fumble and try to understand each other's feelings, the hesitant
exchange of words, the slow dawning of realization. The viewer can see how solid
the wall is that separates them, and how their differences slowly disappear.
The use of tatami mats in Japanese daily life obstructs vigorous movement such
as running. However, the repetitive use of scenes of sitting, standing or reclining
becomes a powerful means of expressing how the psychological barrier between
two people is slowly broken down by their mutual passion. This style of expres
sion is typical of Mizoguchi. His famous technique of 'one-scene one-cut' taken
as a long shot is expressly designed to bring out, bit by bit, every nuance of psy
chological tension between the two, a tension established by this slow change, this
step-by-step transformation. The use of shot-reverse-shot or close-ups would have
speeded up the movement unnecessarily.
This gradual expression of love, this 'aesthetic of a deep psychological barrier',
was part of the puppet joruri (ningyo joruri) style as well as an intrinsic part of
kabuki, developed during the feudal age. It was modernized by shinpa at the end
of the Meiji and Taisho periods, an era when class divisions were dissolving.
These trends were reflected in contemporary shinpa theatre, where a large number
of plays used the theme of love between people of different social classes. 'The
aesthetic of a deep psychological barrier', used as a blackmail tactic in joruri and
kabuki, became in shinpa a way to heighten its theatricality and aesthetic appeal.
It was a reflection of the rapid increase in class mobility during the Meiji and
Taisho periods, which saw innumerable cases of love between people of different
social stations. But since people's ways of thinking change slowly, this kind of love
was suppressed. Even those consumed by it had to fight a strong urge to resist
change. Shinpa often used romantic themes based on strong passions that set
hearts on fire, but the outward displays of these passions were portrayed in
extremely slow movements, presenting a unique self-restrained style.
This style left a powerful, lifelong influence on the way Mizoguchi selected his
themes and on the artistic and dramatization techniques he used. In his realistic
works, Mizoguchi tried hard - at least intellectually - to avoid the cloying sweet
ness of shinpa expression. However, the harder he tried, the more manifest it
became in his later works, where it appeared in a refined and pure form. Mizoguchi
cultivated the shinpa style when he rose from being assistant director to director
in the Mukojima Nikkatsu Film Studio. Yanagawa Shunyo wrote the original story
(in a somewhat crude and outdated style) for The Quiet Two,but the scriptwriter is
unknown.
The heroine is a geisha named Namiji (Nakayama Utako), who has a patron, Shibue
Temo (Arai Jun), the profligate son of a bourgeois. They have one son, but Teruo keeps
his existence secret. Inevitably, Teruo has a fiancee, Mieko (actress unknown), an
upper-class woman. The need to preserve family honour demands that the two should
marry, but Teruo is caught in a dilemma, because he does not want to abandon Namiji.
Mieko's younger brother, Ryukichi (Miyajima Katsuo), accidentally finds out about
Teruo and Namiji and informs Teruo's grandfather, Muraki (Araki Shinobu). An angry
Muraki upbraids Teruo. He summons Namiji to a restaurant (ryotei), where he asks her
to give up the relationship. Namiji tearfully pleads that their love is deep and abiding
and that they even have a son. However, she resigns herself to her fate and tells her
beloved Teruo when he comes to see her, that they must part ways.
Shortly after Teruo and Mieko get married, Namiji falls ill. Her son is taken to
Teruo's house, since Namiji's mother feels that this is best for the child. When she is
better, Namiji, who cannot bear to be separated from her child, goes to Teruo's house
to get him back. There she sees what a wonderful job Mieko is doing bringing up her
child just as her own. Namiji thanks her and leaves.
Teruo also suffers from the pain that he has caused these two women. He goes to
Karafuto (Sakhalin) to establish a business. His wife, Mieko, and the child follow him.
Subsequently Namiji also goes to Karafuto.
Another character in the story is Tozawa, a doctor. He has had a relationship with
Mieko before she married Teruo. Tozawa harasses Mieko in several ways, and even
attempts to abduct her. He, too, comes to Karafuto, where he instigates the Ainu to
agitate, and once again tries to abduct Mieko. Accidentally - if inevitably - Namiji and
Teruo rescue Mieko. It leads to a happy ending.
In kabuki and shinpa a geisha is, all too often, asked to break her relationship
with her patron and give up her beloved; or perhaps this film is a remake of The
Lady of the Camelias (Tsubaki Hime) by Dumas Fils. The influence of American
westerns may have led to creating characters who try to set up new businesses in
far-flung, snow-bound Karafuto, or evil men who instigate and oppress the Ainu.
Or again, it could have been a direct outcome of the widely seen action films set
in Alaska.
In terms of photography there are very few location shots. Apart from some
outdoor shots - outside the house, on a road, in the grounds of a Shinto shrine -
most of the shooting is done on the sets, with an extensive use of backdrop scenery
for the shots of Mukojima Park, the Karafuto white birches and even for snow-
fields.
Another characteristic of these films is the absence of inter-titles. The trend in
shinpa tragedy films was that different people took charge of different roles and
explained the captions, even when no explanation was called for. To have one
person explaining captions was unnecessary; to have several doing it was a posi
tive nuisance. In these films, however, there were no captions between sequence
changes - only the insertion of a brief but beautifully illustrated inter-title,
summing up the main aspects of the sequence. This was used in over twenty films:
Duty and Duty, Worrying about Mother, Predicament, Regarding Desire, To the
Land of Snow Out of Desire and Duty, Drops of Blood on the Snow and
Instigation, to name a few. Under the influence of Brechtian theatre, Godard, too,
experimented with this technique of an inter-title at the start of a sequence in Its
My Life in 1962. But the technique was not really new.
The Quiet Twohas some 300 shots. In a talkie projection, this amounts to about
fifty minutes running time, in silent film, some eighty minutes. Today, a film of
about the same length has about 600 shots. In the silent film era - i.e. in the early
Showa period - films usually had about 1,000 shots. The larger number of shots
would slow down the tempo.
When Mizoguchi and others started making talkies, they used about a hundred
shots. The number of shots in The Quiet Two cannot be regarded as exceptionally
few. However, Kaeriyama Norimasa and others who had called for an improve
ment in Japanese film-making were critical when shots increased. They argued that
leaving the camera on and shooting endlessly as if in front of a stage only made
films boring. This is true if you watch The Quiet Two today. Despite the mere 300
shots, the overall feeling is that the film is too long because the camera was kept
running. Also, there are no moving shots to allow for a change in composition
within one shot. And when a change in the shot does occur, there is no significant
change in the camera angle; at best, it changes from a full to a medium shot. Nor
is there any change in the image. For instance, in an indoor shot of a person
standing, the camera would be pulled back in order to get the full person in the
frame. But if the person sat down, the upper part of the frame would be left empty
because the camera would have to be moved forward considerably to make the
image fit the full size. This was why in crucial scenes you would sometimes find
the titles running across the bust of the character.
Today, when two people are engaged in a conversation, B is filmed from A's per
spective and A from B's. This shot-reverse-shot technique was not known at that
time. To be sure, the relationship between distance and the person being pho
tographed was understood, but there was no understanding of how to change the
camera position to show the person being photographed from different angles.
This induced the feel of a slow tempo despite the relatively small number of shots.
Made about three years after The Quiet Two, the period drama. The Blood ofa
Big Snake by Futagawa Buntaro, has scenes that demonstrated a very competent
use of shot-reverse-shot. The conversation between the two principal characters
and the last great fight scene are tv^ô fine examples. The tempo is leisurely, with a
slow camera moving far back to show the movement of the policeman (torite) as
he watches the protagonist being killed. Here Futagawa uses something close to a
flashback by swiftly building up very different shots. Seeing The Quiet Two and
The Blood of a Big Snake today, one can see why, at the beginning of 1927,
Japanese films were, technically speaking, at a major turning point. On the one
hand, then, you had shinpa theatre films which avoided shot-reverse-shots and on
the other, the new samurai action films which had the moving camera as well as
the shot-reverse-shot.
Mizoguchi used a crane to set up his camera movements. He liked to build up a
change in composition slowly. This is when he developed the moving camera tech
nique and put it to good effect. He resembled the studio in his dislike of the shot-
reverse-shot. He was not in favour of change.
His contemporary, Kinugasa Teinosuke, who was also an intrinsic part of
Nikkatsu Mukojima, was his polar opposite. In A Page ofMadness (1926), he used
a montage of magnificent images to show rapid progress. Mizoguchi's aversion to
montage had progressive critics lashing out at him for his shinpa-stylQ plots and his
outdated form. He stuck to these, not because he had not gone beyond shinpa
forms, but because he did not wish to break the actors' performance. However, the
overall impression was that he did not wish to progress beyond the Nikkatsu
Mukojima group. Mizoguchi was, to put it accurately, a Nikkatsu Mukojima 'type'
of director. Throughout his life he was consistent in his belief that the basis of cin
ematic expression was not montage or camera work, but the performance of the
actor.
To return to The Quiet Two, I find it most interesting that the story of To the
Land ofSnow Out ofDesire and Duty, stresses willpower {iji). As a rule shinpa
plays, as kabuki sewamono (realistic drama of manners), deal with the dilemma
between duty and 'human feelings'. This film, too, poses oppositions between
'desire and duty', 'bound by compassion' and 'dilemma'. Namiji does not want to
break off her relations with her lover Teruo, nor does she want to lose her child.
This is the 'human feeling' {ninjo) in her. And duty (g/n), as opposed to
'humanity', is that her child is being affectionately brought up by Teruo's legiti
mate wife, Mieko. Namiji finally wearies of the dilemma and withdraws. And yet,
if this were only her personal stress, it would not provide the right 'drama', for
there can be no drama around the sole idea of 'dilemma between duty and feeling'.
Basically, the drama arises from the discord and complications between kindred
spirits, each of whom pursues his own interests. Even giri-ninjo drama cannot
consist of mere lamentations and endurance of suffering; there has to be some sub
jective self-assertion. This happens in The Quiet Two, with the use of the word
'willpower' (iji). Namiji is discriminated against because of the prevailing belief
that a geisha, simply by giving birth to her patron's son, cannot assume that she
will become his wife. As a woman, she cannot oppose this discrimination.
However, this discrimination itself becomes the basis of the 'willpower' that builds
up in her as she desperately pleads with Teruo's grandfather. It also emerges from
her actions as she, a lone woman, follows Teruo to snowbound Karafuto
(Sakhalin). Giri and ninjo can only form the basis for a drama. The dramatic
power, which gathers momentum and moves to a climax, comes alive through
willpower. In the so-called giri-ninjo drama giri and ninjo should not be regarded
as opposing concepts. The opposition, rather, is between the concept of'giri-ninjo'
and 'willpower'.
In a society that is not conscious of the need to publicly protest against dis
criminatory practices, the anger is turned inwards. Irrationally perhaps, it emerges
as steely resolve or obstinacy {iji).Translated into modern terms, the drama ofgiri-
ninjo in kabuki or shinpa becomes, in large measure, a fight against discrimination.
Japan's feudal society was thoroughly iniquitous, but one where paternalism often
devised ways to attenuate the friction caused by discrimination. When encountered
by those who refused to accept its reality, it became for them the source of deep
hatred that turned into burning resolve (iji). Namiji in The Quiet Two thinks her
patron loves her, but when she realizes that he is, first and foremost, a patron, and
she just a geisha, her bitterness crystallizes into determination. The so-called 'giri-
ninjo drama' should be re-examined for what it is - a 'drama of honour against dis
crimination'. More importantly, I believe Mizoguchi took these elements of
determination and resolve from shinpa drama and gave them added weight and
depth in the context of realistic drama in Osaka Elegy and his later works.
Westernization of Shinpa Films - The Case of Baptism by Fire
The story of Baptism by Fire (directed by Wakayama Osamu who also worked
with Nikkatsu Mukojima Film Studio) is taken from the programme of the
Nikkatsu group first-run theatre, the Sanyukan:
Sekiko (Okada Yoshiko), the much loved daughter of a university professor, Tanizaki
Haruo, suffers from consumption. The doctor pronounces it incurable. Her prayers lead
to a miraculous recovery, though, and she becomes a devout Christian dedicating her
life to her religious beliefs by joining a nunnery in Hakodate.
That their beloved daughter has buried herself in a Christian nunnery is an unbear
able torment for her parents, who call her back and marry her off to Soma Fiji
(Yamada), a chief engineer in a company. Sekiko, who has little sexual knowledge and
has given little thought to it until now, suddenly comes face to face with it. Her heart
is that of a pure maiden, and when she wakes up after what seems like a dream of her
wedding night, she laments her irrevocably lost youth and maidenly pride, all for the
lust of a domineering man. Learning that there was another woman who had once loved
her husband, she cries, 'A loveless marriage is a misfortune but when two people who
love each other cannot be together, it is an even greater misfortune. I will go back and
hope this will help these people ...'
Sokichi (Tagawa Junkichi), the son of an employee, is another devout Christian
whose hymns to God bring deep solace to the lonely and grieving Sekiko. As if their
souls and bodies had merged into one, the two unthinkingly begin singing hymns under
the setting winter sun. Brought together and bound by religious fervour, they soon fall
in love and become lovers.
Three years later, on a stormy night a man is driving through the outskirts of a small
town near the Hakone pass. His wife, with a baby clasped to her, works at her embroi
dery at home. For three years Sokichi, a driver, had been toiling hard for the sake of his
beloved wife and child. However, he is tragically killed when he loses control of the car
and crashes down a cliff. After Sokichi's death, Sekiko feels insecure and, yearning for
her parents, returns to Tokyo. She wonders how she can face them and chooses to live
alone in a small room with her baby. But, friendless and forlorn, she is forced to
abandon her child.
Quite by chance, her brother, a university graduate and now a manager in a hospital,
comes across the abandoned child and brings him up tenderly as his own. Sekiko, a
loving mother, decides to secretly visit her baby at the hospital. At the same time Soma
Fiji has been injured in his factory and admitted to the same hospital. Sekiko sees
Kyoko, the woman supervisor of the factory, sitting by Fiji's pillow nursing him, and
feels very happy for Fiji. She also sees that the child she had to abandon is being raised
by her elder brother. Sekiko returns once again to the arms of the Virgin Mary at the
nunnery.
And the bells of the nunnery toll!
Along with Tanaka Eizo and Suzuki Kensaku, Wakayama was an important
director at Nikkatsu Studio. Indeed, it was he who introduced the young
Mizoguchi to Nikkatsu. It was here that Mizoguchi learned film-making.
Baptism by Fire is not regarded as a masterpiece. Judging by the story, I think
it fits the typical pattern of women's melodrama. The heroine, played by Okada
Yoshiko, is not the daughter of a nobleman but of a university professor, and was
part of the elite. She is also a Christian, something particularly suitable for a
heroine in the popular Western-style love stories based on the worship of upper-
class women. In tales of chivalry, the greater the spiritual dignity of a woman, the
more passionate the knight's attraction to her.
It is difficult to judge today just how far the film captures this idea or to what
degree the heroine is aglow with pride and spirituality. The idea of a chaste beauty
has little meaning today. Besides, the link between Okada's ignorance of sex and
her Christian beliefs is weak, and it is open to question whether the film manages
to express the dignity of a noblewoman.
It must be remembered that in those years women had just begun making an
appearance in Japanese cinema and that until a couple of years before, onnagata
had been at the peak of their popularity. Ironically, onnagata expressed the eroti
cism or coquetry of a certain kind of woman better than women actors themselves.
And even after women began acting, they found it difficult initially to break away
from the style of the onnagata which had by then become the model.
In the family novels of the late Meiji-Taisho period it was widely accepted that
the young heroine would fall in love with a man from the nobility, or at least with
someone from the upper classes. This was plainly based on class-consciousness
and on the assumption that love as a spiritual bond would be meaningless for ordi
nary people who regarded it as a Western notion. However, in Baptism by Fire, a
young illegitimate son, a driver, not only loves the heroine but worships her and
treats her with respect. The proletariat takes on the role of the knight.
This is by no means the first work to express this idea, and in all likelihood it
was influenced by American films. But there is no mistaking that it is a cut above
the run-of- the-mill family novels, an experiment that planted the idea of
romantic melodrama as an expression of Western upper-class thinking. The
trouble is that these proletarian knights are unable to fulfil their hopes. They
either die in accidents, throwing the heroines once again into hardship and
sorrow; or, when they discover that there is another knight who waits on the lady,
they enter a monastery.
The story of Baptism by Fire brings together two notions of tradition: the
Japanese, where the child is looked after by the parents, and the Western, where a
man protects a woman.The solution of sending the first loverto a monastery is not
part of Japanese ethos, but based on a Western image of the world. Melodramas
that belong to the world of women-worshipping chivalrous knights did not match
the Japanese reality of the 1920s. The problem faced by Japanese scriptwriters.
then, was how best to adapt Western melodramas to their own customs and make
them acceptable.
In 1933 Wakayama Osamu, director of Baptism by Fire wrote a story on which
Mizoguchi based his first film, Resurrection ofLove. The story, according to the
programme of the Asakusa Sanyukan is as follows:
Wnno Youtei (Yamamoto Kaichi) lives on a rice paddy ridge where the water is pure,
the mountains beautiful and the rivers abundant. He has two daughters, is a leading
modern potter, and the object of everyone's envy. However, what appears beautiful
from the outside always hides something dark underneath. Wnno is a deeply sorrowful
man, disheartened by the fact that has no male heir.
Hishida Yuichi (Koizumi Kasuke) hatches a plan and sets out for the capital. He
comes to Wnno and waits patiently till he is accepted as a disciple. Hishida's persever
ance wins over his teacher. Wnno is delighted that there will now be someone to per
petuate his name.
For this to happen, Hishida must marry Wnno's daughter. In the proper order of
things the elder daughter Tamie should be married first. But she has a birthmark over
half her face and it is clear that Hishida dislikes her. Though the father quite naturally
wants her married and is torn by pity, he leaves Tamie (onnagata, Mori Kiyoshi) to her
fate and announces the wedding of Hishida and Sayuriko (onnagata, Oguri Takeo) in
order to secure an heir.
Hishida is very happy. He had always loved Sayuriko and he can now marry her. But
Sayuriko is distressed at the thought that she, a beauty, must give up her life to marry
the ugly Hishida when she already has a lover, Murota (Yoshimura Tetsuo), the son of
a wealthy man.
Wnno goes up to Kyoto for the marriage ceremony. It is the evening of the happy day
but a distraught Sayuriko and Murota clasp each other and decide to end their lives by
drowning. Learning of this betrayal, Hishida's frustration turns to anger and then to
despair. But at the very moment that he decides to kill himself, he remembers the
promise he had made to Wnno of becoming his successor. It dawns on him that he is
not the master of his destiny and cannot throw his life away because of a passion.
Awakening as it were, from a dream, he marries the other daughter, Tamie, and vows
to his teacher to live single-mindedly for a sublime and pure art, and keep his name
alive. There is a new light of happiness on this day when love has been resurrected and
a peaceful breeze blows over the shimmering waters of the bountiful river.
This film by Mizoguchi, a simple melodrama, was not received with any great
acclaim. Writing in Contemporary Japanese Filmmakers (Gendai nihon eiga
jinden), Kishi Matsuo says that this work resembles the later 'pro-ide' (proletarian
ideology) films. Since large portions were chopped by the censors, Mizoguchi
used the biwa (Japanese lute) to link the shots. When Koizumi Kasuke dressed up
for the role of the idiot, Mizoguchi called it a biwa play.
Where exactly is the 'pro-ide' in this film? It is quite unbelievable that Hishida
is an imbecile, as Mizoguchi seems to recall. But the film-maker remembered this
only at a much later date, and the pro-ide may have been apparent in the original;
perhaps the film is the revised version made after it passed the censors and the
original story could indeed have been based on proletarian ideology. Which is
doubtless why the story is difficult to follow.
The Resurrection of Love is different from Baptism by Fire. If the latter falls
within the framework of the melodramas of knightly romance, the former draws
upon the tradition of Resurrection. A man is the cause of a woman's misfortune
and unhappiness, and the consciousness of this crime drives him to atonement.
This motif is the same as Nekhlyudov's behaviour towards Katushya. Resurrection
was one of the more popular plays of the early Taisho period, and one of the early
superstars of shingeki, Matsui Sumako, was widely admired for her role as
Katushya. The play was made into a film many times at the Nikkatsu studios.
If melodramas of knightly romance are an expression of an internalized reaction
to the worship of a male god in Christianity, then Tolstoy's Resurrection, while fun
damentally demolishing this tradition, once again draws it back into the Christian
fold, where the burden of sexual relations can be released through confession. In
Resurrection of Love, we have a Christian position. Having brought misfortune
and unhappiness upon a woman, a man cannot simply confess and leave. 'Living
for a sublime and pure art' becomes the retribution for the crime. In this case it is
simultaneously a way to provide succour to the girl's father and to the 'house' {ie).
The religion of God is turned into a religion of the house.
Mizoguchi would later make a number of films where an important leitmotif
was that of a man living to atone for his crimes against a woman, a direction that
modem Japanese romantic melodramas were already exploring. It was thus a
legacy from his seniors in the industry.
-3-
From New School Theatre to

N aturalism-Realism
The Support of a Sister and the World of Shingeki
When the Great Kanto earthquake happened in 1923, the young Mizoguchi was
living in his sister Suzu's house. Later, as she and her family moved from place to
place, he would provide them refuge in a house in Nikkatsu's Mukojima Studios.
Unfortunately, the house burnt down in a fire. Suzu then took the family to the res
idence of Matsudaira Tadamasa in Ehara, Shinagawa. This large estate was spread
over an area of 3,000 tsubo (1 tsubo = 36 sq ft). The main house covered 400 tsubo,
and there were a number of other empty houses as well. Suzu and her family were
given one of the unoccupied houses and they turned it into their permanent home.
For all that, Suzu's status was akin to a servant's. Her patron Matsudaira
Tadamasa's mother and his legal wife both treated her like one of their employees,
although they betrayed no sign of jealousy. That the wife and mistress lived
together didn't ever appear to be a problem. The servants took pride in their
employment in a daimyo house, but ih^yashiki - the people who held the real reins
of power - kept away from her. Suzu, from downtown Tokyo and unused to the
lifestyle of the nobility, thus lived in virtual isolation.
It was the beginning of a troubled life for her. Friends would come and visit her,
and many a time there was talk of leaving. But for the sake of the children, Suzu
refused an alimony of 50,000 yen, choosing, instead, to remain near her lord.
Unfortunately for her, this man would not reprimand anyone who troubled her and
her children - not even the servants. He was afraid of their opposition. In 1926,
Matsudaira Tadamasa's wife died, but Suzu's position remained unchanged.
However, he did move Suzu and her family, including her brother, to another unoc
cupied house that was remodelled as a grand Western-style building. Thereafter,
whenever Mizoguchi - who had by then become a director and was working in
Kyoto - came to Tokyo he would use the house as his own, coming and going as
he pleased. He would bring along many of his friends from the studio, ask his
sister to entertain them and borrow money from her as well.
After Japan's defeat in the war and the abolition of the nobility system in 1947,
31
Matsudaira and Suzu were free to marry. They did so immediately. Unfortunately,
the fortunes of the Matsudaira family declined soon afterwards.
In Osaka Elegy, Mizoguchi used the actor Takekawa Seiichi to portray an old,
self-centred, petty man who embezzles company money. He considers himself suc
cessful, but is a burden on his daughter. Many years later, Mizoguchi told Yoda
Yoshikata that he used memories of his father to create the character of the old
man, right down to the smallest gesture. Mizoguchi may have been quite con
temptuous of his father, but from what he learned of him from Suzu's children,
Matsudaira Tadanori and Kawakatsu Kyoko, it appears that the father was gentle
and likeable, if somewhat petty. What did Mizoguchi really think of his father
when he was young? What did he think of Matsudaira Tadamasa who provided him
with economic security?
In all likelihood, the workaholic Mizoguchi (indeed he was a martinet with col
leagues, abusive and scornful of those who he believed shirked work) regarded his
father as a defeatist. A good man though the father was, he had no standing in
society. At the same time, it is difficult to believe that Mizoguchi respected
Matsudaira Tadamasa because of his wealth. If the old egotist in Osaka Elegy is
modelled on the father, then the spineless lord in The Life of Oharu and the
emperor Genshu in Princess Yang Kwei-fei are definitely cast in the image of
Matsudaira Tadamasa.
All his life Mizoguchi worked on stories of women helping weak-willed men.
The women may have been outwardly feeble, but they were of an indomitable
spirit and had the strength to cope with tragedy. Even stories that do not, at first
glance, fit this pattern are actually variations on this theme, and it is exceptional
for a man to use his power to help a woman in distress. Mizoguchi may certainly
have used traits of character of people close to him - Suzu, Zentaro or Matsudaira
Tadamasa for instance - but there is little evidence to show that he was as disap
proving of them as he shows in his films, or indeed that he even had any quarrel
with them.
In general, Mizoguchi was a likeable person. But at work his personality under
went a dramatic change. The Mizoguchi who hated his father - or more accurately,
the father figure in his films - was simply a part of the imaginative structure of his
work; his disdain was like his disdain for vacillating matinee idols. I believe that
while artists begin with certain characteristics and give them shape, the opposite
can also happen. A role has a certain function. It is one way of narrating a partic
ular story. By investing that role with his own feelings, an actor or performer
fleshes it out and gives it life. That the character of the small-minded,weak, egotist
in Osaka Elegy who manages to stabilize his life through his daughter's sacrifice
has been modelled on his father, shows the depth of Mizoguchi's animosity to him.
What meaning did love and hate within the family structure hold for Mizoguchi?
For most people these are not major problems, even if problems of love and hate
within family relationships are complex. When we were young, family relation-
From New School Theatre to Naturalism-Realism • 33
ships were so close and binding that we could not break free of them. With the
passage of time they became memories and we could look back on calmly. When
Mizoguchi entered the film industry and became a director, it was not with just any
studio that he worked, but with Nikkatsu, the specialist in shinpa tragedies.
Initially he thought of becoming an actor, and it was really by accident that took
up direction, a role that suited his personality better. And he - who till then had
never worked for any length of time at any one job and was nothing but a source
of worry for Suzu - would go on to cut quite a figure as a director.
Shinpa tragedies were traditional plays with themes of love and hate within
family relationships. It was impossible for Mizoguchi not to deal with them. In the
process, consciously or otherwise, he used his own family relationships upon
which to base his work. But it was precisely because he was the kind of director
who could not help bringing his personal concerns to his films that he raised them,
through naturalism-realism, far above the repetitive, traditional patterns typical of
formulaic shinpa tragedy films.
Friends and acquaintances of Mizoguchi agreed that he was unyielding on
several issues. A large number of incidents have been cited to corroborate this.
Since his films made him appear an authority on family relationships, once he
made up his mind, he was not averse to bringing the love and conflict from within
his own family into his work.
Shinpa tragedies favoured the world of the geisha, the patron and the red light
(Blossoms and Willows) district as their subject matter. Suzu, a geisha, was close
to a member of the nobility; through her and her patron, Mizoguchi became
familiar with the ambience and people of this world. Yodogawa Nagaharu, in The
Three Great Films (1950), has this to say of the protagonist Umemura Yoko in
Mizoguchi's The Nihon Bridge (1929):
taking small steps she walks down a corridor to a rendezvous with her patron waiting
in a room {zashiki) away from the main building. She opens the sliding paper door
(shoji), takes out a pouch wrapped in paper from the folds of her obi and swiftly hands
it to her accompanying maid. That gesture of quickly handing over wrapped money is
the geisha personified. His understanding of the small details of women living at that
time was superb.
None could have depicted the world of the Nihonbashi geisha better. For most
people, such sundry details may hold no particular significance, but for Mizoguchi
it was an active intemalisation of complex memories of his feelings for his sister.
In a famous essay entitled 'The Power of the Sister' (Imoto no chikara), anthro
pologist Yanagida Kunio states that for Japanese men a brother's memories of a
sister's pure love is a major spiritual support. This love has its roots in an
entrenched cultural memory where the elder sister plays the role of a medium
(miko). In more recent times, cultural anthropologist, Iwata Keiji, has pointed out
in TheAnthropology ofthe Gods that the custom of women using magic to protect
their men when they set out on a journey is still widely prevalent in South-East
Asia. This, he adds, may well lie at the origin ofYanagida Kunio's argument.
While I cannot make any Judgements about the early Japanese people, I do tend
to agree that even in contemporary Japan, bonds between brothers are not as strong
as those between an elder brother and a younger sister, or those between a younger
brother and the elder sister. Under the influence of Confucian ethics, a strong dis
tinction is made on the basis of age. An elder brother can often be like a father to
the younger brother, but the two can never be equal. Over a period of time, this led
to a system of primogeniture, which explains why the relationship between the
elder and younger brother is like the relationship between a master and a subordi
nate. In American companies such as Warner Brothers, brothers are equal man
agers. In Japan, on the contrary, if the elder brother is the chairperson, the younger
brother will usually be a department head; he will never occupy a position of
equality. This is also why discord among brothers is common. But the relationship
between the brother and sister, on the contrary, is supported by a pure love and is,
therefore, easy to maintain.
From a different note, distinctions based on sex are very clear in European
culture. As children, brothers and sisters sleep in different rooms, unlike in Japan
where there is nothing strange about brothers and sisters sleeping in the same
room. In fact, from early childhood, the elder brother or sister looks after younger
siblings in a way that strengthens kinship ties between the opposite sexes. It is
perhaps this aspect of Japanese culture that invests stories of love between brothers
and sisters with a special meaning.
A well-known line in a popular song called 'The Avenue of Life' (Jinsei no
namikimichi) goes: 'Don't cry little sister, don't cry little sister ... have you for
gotten the tearful voice of your elder brother who promised to look after you?'
Yosano Akiko's famous anti-war poem, 'Brother Do Not Give Your Life', is about
an older sister remembering her younger brother who has gone off to war. The old
tale of Sansho the Bailiffis all about an older sister sacrificing herself to save her
younger brother. Koda Aya's Younger Brother, a novel centring on an older sister's
devotion to her wastrel of a younger brother, was made into a cinematic master
piece by Ichikawa Kon. Murou Saisei's novel. Older Brother-Younger Sister, a
story about the love between an older brother and a younger sister, was filmed
three times, in 1936, 1953 and 1976. All three films are masterpieces. The violent
older brother may beat his younger sister; nevertheless, he loves her deeply.
In European or American cinema, we come across very few films that deal with
the love between siblings of the opposite sex. Japan, on the other hand, has many
stories of this kind. Mizoguchi rarely wrote a story himself, but was naturally
drawn to such material and subjects, and it was in these stories that he found his
metier.
Strength of a Woman's Will
Many of Mizoguchi's early shinpa tragedies have stories featuring an elderly

woman performer or geisha who renounces the world, sacrifices herself and
destroys her body. The man is tortured by the consciousness of his crime.
Examples of such films are The Downfall of Osen, The Nihon Bridge and
Cascading White Threads. The Nihon Bridge has an older sister and a younger
brother; in The Downfall of Osen, the young man calls the woman 'older sister',
although the two are not really related. Apart from the early films there are others
such as Osaka Elegy, The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums and Sansho the
Bailiff where ambitious young men, chasing success, sacrifice an elder or a
younger sister, or even a wife who plays the role of an elder sister. In almost all
these films, a father or a patriarchal head has a crucial part in driving a woman to
self-sacrifice. The younger men are powerless to overthrow him and it is the
women who take the pressure put on these younger men and end up sacrificing
themselves. In the process, the young men are greatly tormented.
The triangular relationship between the young man, the father (or father figure)
and the young woman reflects Mizoguchi's personal feelings. But more than the
desire to express a deeply felt need, it was his confidence that he had in his grasp
a world he knew and understood, that drove him to depict it. He knew it made him
the 'best'; he could use it as a trump card. Mizoguchi was a naturally competitive
man who needed at all times to feel superior to his colleagues and was fearful of
being overtaken by his juniors. To stay ahead he made a wide variety of films:
some of the popular variety, others expressionist or avant-garde, films with a leftist
approach, as well as films that were thematically just the reverse, i.e. those in
praise of the Japanese invasion of the Asian mainland.
After the Second World War, Mizoguchi made educational films on post-war
democracy. However, once Japanese films began to be exported, his own work -
aimed mainly at the export market - proved to be fairly poor {The Princess Yang
Kwe-fei). It has been repeatedly emphasized that in the years between the Japan-
China war and the Pacific war, Mizoguchi did not make any films in direct praise
of the war. However, a close examination of the history of Japanese cinema shows
that many did follow the popular trend. They expressed his intense desire to be part
of the world of cinema, to be right on top. (In this he was the polar opposite of Ozu
Yasujiro who, throughout his life, pursued one style and two or three motifs.) But
while he tried his hand at a variety of new trends, his best depictions remained
those of the 'elder sister', and the 'geisha or performer', the adoring 'younger
brother' and the 'father or head' who makes her bend - sometimes against her will
- in the interest of the family. This sourcing of material from the world he knew
made him a master at depicting women.
A film may be largely based on an individual's sentiments, but it cannot be
merely an autobiographical novel. Even if some of Mizoguchi's films were close
36 ®Kenji Mizoguchi and the Art ofJapanese Cinema
to being autobiographical novels, they were not like the usual films of the time.
Films need to be put in a popular story form (or appear to be within a popular story
form) even when grounded in personal feelings. Suzu can be called a mistress as
she lived in a large mansion and seemed to be loved by her patron. However, in a
popular story, the mistress is a concubine - she must bear the burden of being a
woman. The story of an older sister working as a geisha and paying her younger
brother's school fees was common in shinpa theatre, beginning with The Nihon
Bridge written by Izumi Kyoka. Naturally, the greater the suffering a geisha
endured, the more pathetic would the story appear.
The basis of shinpa tragedy theatre was to show the will of a woman who is
lashed by cruel fate. It took on an even more concrete form in the case of a fallen
woman. As a director in a shinpa tragedy studio, Mizoguchi's heroines ranged
from geishas and prostitutes to fallen women. The heroine of The Nihon Bridge is
the first-ranking geisha from the red-light district; the heroine of The Downfall of
Osen is a prostitute; the heroine of And Yet They Go is also a prostitute who works
in a place called Chabuya, a brothel for foreigners.
It does not follow, however, that every shinpa tragedy spoke of women's cruel
fate. These plays were basically popular entertainment. Showing the pitiful fate of
women would not have entertained people if the story been one of unmitigated
misery. It had to be presented with a degree of lightness. For instance, if the story
was about a nobleman's mistress having to abandon her child, it had a certain
amount of pathos. If it was about a woman who had to sell her body and become
a prostitute, it would fall in the category of wretchedness. Given the ethical values
prevalent in society, the life of a geisha or the mistress of a nobleman could be
shown only in a beautiful and melodramatic way. If the life of a prostitute were to
be realistically depicted, it would have been unsavoury and obscene.
That Mizoguchi often made a geisha the heroine of his films is not exceptional;
this was a common theme in a shinpa films. But it was his desire to pursue realism
that led him to show prostitutes or the women working in Chabuya. From the end
of the Taisho to the early Showa period, naturalism-realism was well entrenched in
the world of literature. In fact, it was the prevailing social orthodoxy that needed
to be overturned. Given his competitive spirit, Mizoguchi worked to raise shinpa
tragedy films to the level of naturalism-realism. The search for realism in literature
coincided with the rise of the autobiographical, or T-novel'. The larger abstract
question 'what is truth?' transformed into a more concrete and specific question
'what is reality?' and the actual life of the writer became the unquestioned reality.
But the life of the writer has often been regarded as isolated from society. In the
'I-novel' the social aspect of reality is weakly expressed. Mizoguchi went com
pletely counter to this trend. He took the truth of individual feelings expressed in
shinpa tragedy films, and raised it to a social level to show that it embodied a uni
versal truth. It is through this process that he drew close to naturalism-realism.
Naturalism Realism - Mistress of a Foreigner and And Yet They Go
In Mizoguchi Kenji: The Man and His Art (Mizoguchi Kenji hito to geijutsu), Yoda
Yoshikata writes:
I think the two films, Mistress ofa Foreigner and And Yet They Go, made in 1931, the
year of the Manchurian Incident, are the foundations of Mizoguchi's art ... This is
because Mizoguchi gave naturalism-realism his own unique strength and perspective.
Another important reason is that with Mistress of a Foreigner he began to use the then
special technique of one scene-one cut ...
I can never forget my initial response to And Yet They Go in the preview theatre - the
overwhelming feeling that this was the kind of film I wanted to see. I was young and
wanted to write about films - films that had both good and evil, films covered with
grime as it were, but being inexperienced, I did not know what to expect in such films.
I read Moliere and Maupassant and felt something of their attraction, but above all I
loved the work of Tanizaki Junichiro. The censors hacked And Yet They Go, and it was
painful watching it when it was released.
Sadly, neither the films nor the scripts ofMistress ofa Foreigner or And Yet They
Go survive today. And Yet They Go, in particular, was so heavily censored that it
must have been very difficult to evaluate it critically. Both the original works on
which the two films are based are available. The popular novelist, Juichiya
Gisaburo, author of Mistress of a Foreigner, wrote it as a mixture of novel and
reportage. And Yet They Go was based on the novel by Shimomura Chiaki. A few
films seem completely unconnected to the original stories on which they are based.
This was not the case here, since the story, the theme and the nature of the central
characters can be perfectly understood on their own. One can quite understand
why these 'became the foundations of Mizoguchi's art'. A closer look might make
this clearer.
Mistress ofa Foreigner is the sad tale of Izu Shimoda. Black ships come to Shimoda,
where Townsend Harris opens a consular office. He stays on for a year to press the
bakufu to open up the country. Okichi, a geisha, is given to him as a mistress. The
people of Shimoda think of foreigners as beasts and are afraid of them. They see Okichi
as a woman monster - a woman whose chastity had been sold to a beast - and they
abhor her as unclean. She leaves her home, and from the commissioner's office is
carried in procession in a palanquin to the counsellor's office. The people of the town
watch this procession with disgust.
Juichiya Gisaburo then introduces two men into the story: Tsuru, a carpenter on a
ship and Okichi's young fiance; and Isa Shinjiro, an employee at the commissioner's
office. When Okichi is ordered to go from the commissioner's office to Harris, the
American counsellor, she can only appeal to Tsuru to help her refuse. However, Tsuru
decides to go to Edo where he is told he can be a samurai. One night he comes to tell
Okichi that he is leaving because he wants to become successful. Okichi begs him to
help her to escape with him:
'How can I run away with you? There is such a strict guard over you.'
'What! Are you afraid ? Really Tsuru-sanl'
'Shouldn't I be? What if the office guard or the barrier guards catch us?'
'If we are caught ... bite your tongue ... you always used to say that you would die
with me.'
'What are you saying Okichi ... such frightful things.'
'No, just kill me! Kill me! If you want to become a samurai, then do it.'
'What are you saying? Don't talk of dying!'
'It's all right if you don't want to be with me.'
'Don't be absurd.'
'Then ... Tsuru-san .. .Tsuru-san ... I can't take this any more. Oh how bitter this is.'
The exchange with Okichi continues in this colloquial style, but Tsuru has no
fighting spirit and desperately wants to make off.
'Tsuru-san, you also ... you remember that great commotion. At that time Koaruki-
san used to look up to Nirayama-san, they used to meet, isn't it? But where will a
woman run? She hid in the house and couldn't leave ... The foreigner was a beast of
debauchery.. .Tsuru-san.
'No matter how much that beast... that beast loved his wife, his wife, his own wife,
he used her freely ... Tsuru-san, give up trying to become like a true samurai.
'For me, even with this, I am a woman, a Japanese woman. If I could be with you, if
the village headman would allow it ... because I want to be with you ... even if I have
to suffer imprisonment... I really want to become Tsuru-san's wife.'
Tsuru also breaks down and weeps.
'Tsuru-san ... Tsuru-san.'
'This is truly regrettable ...'
When the crow's cry is heard, Tsuru's face is visible as he drags his sandals from the
rear entrance of Okichi's house.
Suzu, too, was given away as a geisha. When Mizoguchi was about seven or
eight, Viscount Matsudaira bought her contract and gave her her freedom. It is not
clear whether Mizoguchi was aware of this but in any case he was too young to
help his only elder sister. What is certain is that he repeatedly portrayed characters
like Tsuru who had neither pride nor self-respect. Such men were always shown to
have high-spirited and strong-willed elder sisters, or a woman he refers to as 'elder
sister', or a lover who he lets down when she appeals to him for help.
Okada Tokihiko in The Nihon Bridge and Cascading White Threads, Natsukawa
Daijiro in The Downfall of Osen and Hanayagi Shotaro in The Story of the Late
Chrysanthemums are such characters. Particularly interesting is the humble
company employee played by Kara Kensaku in Osaka Elegy. When asked by his
lover(playedbyYamada Isuzu)to raise money and replacewhather father has blown
up, he can do nothing. When she makes a plan and sendshim to her dangerous elder
brother, a pimp, he is speechless with fright. When the police catch him, all he can
say is that he has nothing to do with anything, and indeed does nothing to help her.
Osaka Elegy wasYodaYoshikata'soriginal script based on Juichiya Gisaburo's work.
Hatamoto Akiichi's dramatization ofMistress ofa Foreigner is similar to Mizoguchi
Kenji's and though there is no direct link, the character of Tsuru resembles the
Hatamoto dramatization so closely that Tsuru might well have been his reincarna
tion. Perhaps Mizoguchi secretly depicted these characters as his self-portraits.
In Mistress of a Foreigner, Isa Shinjiro, the employee in the Commissioner's
office, chases Tsuru off to Edo and comes to Okichi's house where, he explains
with great gentleness and in nationalistic terms, the reason why she must become
the American's mistress: Osho (Wang Zhao Ying), a woman close to the Chinese
Emperor is, for reasons of state, being sent across the Amur River to a foreign
country in the north, and as she goes she says, 'The year? ... Kichi? ... Wasn't it
the same age as Kichi? I was seventeen.'
That's the kind of story it is. More than being beguiled by the crafty employee,
Okichi loses heart at Tusru's betrayal and decides to become the counsellor's mis
tress. She takes good care of Harris, but when he returns to America, people see
her as strange and reject her. Okichi ends up as a pathetic alcoholic. Tsuru may be
a self-portrayal of Mizoguchi, but there is no trace of Mizoguchi's father in the role
of the canny Isa Shinjiro. Mizoguchi's father was a petty man and a loser in life,
while Isa Shinjiro is smart and capable. The only similarity is that he lives off the
sacrifices of women, or of those weaker than himself.
In The Straits of Love and Hate, Shimizu Masao plays the son of a Shinshu
ryokan owner. He falls in love and elopes with the maid (played by Yamaji
Fumiko), but abandons her when he finds that he cannot make ends meet, and
returns to his father. An unreliable man, a strong-willed woman and a stubborn,
crafty and cruel patriarch who will not let the two live: with some variations, these
human relations formed the core of Mizoguchi's art.
One can offer an ironic counter explanation here. Mizoguchi was well
acquainted with the life of a concubine who is loved by a great lord in the mansion
but mistreated by the heiress's maid. Such a story had all the elements of a typical
shinpa tragedy. Re-reading this today, one may be surprised to learn that the family
novel became the basis of No-Farce (kyogen), a form close to shinpa tragedy.
There were many stories of family conflicts between the wife of a viscount or
baron and his mistress, or stories about illegitimate children. Yanagawa Shunyo's
Bygone Friends, Kikuchi Youho's My Fault, Watanabe Untei's Whirlpool were all
part of this genre. These serialized newspaper novels were made into shinpa-ty^Q
plays in the Taisho period. The masses loved the world of the nobles because they
were rich, close to the imperial house and vested with power and authority.
If Mizoguchi's only intention been to show a world he knew well, he could have
simply used the well-established patterns of shinpa tragedy. However, he did not
do so until the decline of the nobility in the post-war period. I would like to
examine the reasons behind this.
Search for Realism: A Woman ofPleasure
Mizoguchi lived off a viscount because of his elder sister's connections. It enabled
him to escape poverty and pursue his own interests. As and when he chose, he
would give up work he found unsuitable and return to his sister's house; through
her, and because of his good relations with the Viscount, he got many things done
for himself. He may have been wary of his father who also lived with them, a
dislike that would inevitably reflect on him and his work. Perhaps - being brought
up poor - he cultivated an antipathy to the rich, and out of this arose his compas
sion for the prostitutes of the lower class. Whatever the reason, for a sensitive
young man, this life could not have been a very happy one. Or perhaps he simply
disliked showing the life of the nobility. If he had done so he could have ended up
with an autobiographical novel. But a film is not just the visualization of private
feelings. These feelings have to be given a popular story form. Familiar though he
was with the life of a nobleman's concubine, Mizoguchi chose not to write about
this. He preferred a similar situation in order to tell an even more pathetic story in
A Woman ofPleasure. This gave it universality and a greater appeal.
Mizoguchi was familiar with the sort of women portrayed in A Woman of
Pleasure', it seems that he also bought himself many prostitutes, and was
acquainted with geisha, prostitutes {shogi), independent prostitutes (shisho), part-
time maid/part-time prostitutes (yatona), and prostitutes who worked with for
eigners, as in Kobe. In his later years, when his wife suffered mental problems, this
only strengthened his self-condemnation.
From his young days, when he lived off his sister in Asakusa, it appears that
Mizoguchi frequented the nearby Yoshiwara red-light district, often returning early
in the morning. In what was to be his last work. Street ofShame, he speaks of the
final days of the Yoshiwara district before the anti-prostitution law was passed and
it was closed down. He knew the world of prostitutes early in life, partly because
of Suzu, and partly because he matured sexually when he was very young.
He never made any advances to 'decent' women and nor was there any scandal
with the many actresses he worked with. The story of his unrequited love for the
actress Tanaka Kinuyo in his later years is known, but those who knew them unan
imously agree that Mizoguchi behaved like a naive adolescent; the slightest
mention of Tanaka Kinuyo's name would embarrass him, and it is quite possibly
he never told Tanaka Kinuyo that he loved her.
While he was bold with prostitutes, he was bashful with 'decent' women, a trait
he shared with older Japanese men. As far as women were concerned, Mizoguchi
was neither a naturally debauched person nor a particularly domineering one. His
only obsession was to chase success and make a name for himself.
-4-
The Time of Leftist Films - Metropolitan Symphony
Among the shinpa tragedies that Mizoguchi made were The Song of Failure
(^1923), A Paper Dolls Whisper of Spring (1926), Cascading White Threads
(1933), TheDownfall of Osen (1935), and its most shining example. TheStory of
the Late Chiysanthemums (1939). Kabuki forms greatly influenced shinpa tragedy
films, but rendered it almost impossible to make realistic plays. By the 1930s these
styles were chiefly used to depict the customs and manners of the Meiji period.
Films such as A Picture of Madame Yuki (1950), Lady Yu, Lady Musashino
(1951) and others, while made in the contemporary mode, have a clearly recog
nizable shinpa tragedy style. Kabuki and shinpa are characterized by the 'conflict
between a pleasure-loving man and money and power'. The emotional landscape
of this conflict is developed in a very picturesque way. Many critics argue that
Mizoguchi developed realism in Japanese films with works such as Osaka Elegy
and Sisters of the Gion. In these two shinpa-inûQncQd films, however, he went
into a decline.
For Mizoguchi the elements of shinpa were fundamental and, as a diligent and
ambitious man he continued to experiment with new forms that took him in dif
ferent directions. The film 813 (1923) was a mystery based on the translation of
one of Morris Lupin's 'Arsene Lupin' series; Foggy Harbour (1923) was part of a
series of 'a very dark human drama'; Blood and Spirit (1923) was influenced by
The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, and other works of German expressionism. The
Ministry of Education commissioned The Song ofMy Village (1925) as an educa
tional film for rural youth. On the one hand he made No Money No Fight (1925),
an ironical film on war, and on the other, patriotic films, such as Imperial Favour
(1927). The three films of The Life of a Man (1928) were comedies based on a
comic book {manga).
Mizoguchi was ever sensitive to prevailing fashions, constantly experimenting,
yet aware of his shortcomings and doing his best to overcome them. Riding rashly
on the wave of the popularity of militarism just after the Manchurian Incident, he
made The Dawn ofManchuria; The Song ofthe Camp came the year after the start
of the Japan-China war. However, when the war entered a more serious phase and
broadened into the Pacific war - a time when the government forced film-makers
41
to make propaganda films in its support - he turned his back on war films and
sought escape in art films.
Keiko films, or films with a leftist bent, became popular in the 1920s and 1930s.
After the First World War, a long-drawn-out economic depression that began with
a fall in agricultural prices turned into a full-blown financial crisis (1927), led to
the failure of many banks and to social instability. The right-wing movement
spread rapidly, and from 1926 onwards, the labour movement, too, gathered con
siderable strength. The world of letters saw the growth of a proletarian literature
movement. New right-wing figures dominated literary magazines. Writers of other
persuasions, including established names since the Meiji period, found it difficult
to publish their writings, and the only ones who flourished were those who sup
ported the rightist ideology. In the world of cinema, propaganda films from the
Soviet Union by directors such as Eisenstein or Pudovkin injected a far greater
modernism than had hitherto been perceptible. The films were new not just in
terms of ideas but also in terms of their form and perspective.
In this contradictory situation, young and ambitious film-makers began taking
an interest in the rightist trend. Both the press and the audience at large welcomed
films that fitted into this framework and that were likely to become hits. Even man
agers of film companies that had originally been against rightist thinking, were
convinced that if films made money, they were fine.
Simultaneously, leftist {keiko) films were also acceptable. Directors who had
specialized in melodramas and had evinced no particular interest in right-wing
ideas, as well as the big names from period drama, had so far been making films
based on the ideology of 'humanity and loyalty' (jingi chiiko). They now began to
insert left-wing ideas into their films and keiko films grew in popularity.
The severe repression of left-wing thought and the merciless censoring of keiko
films can hardly be over-emphasized. The more a work demonstrated a clear ide
ology, the more it was hacked, making it impossible at times to follow the story.
The popularity of most of these films did not last more than a couple of years. By
1931 the left-wing movement had begun to show signs of receding. In the face of
severe repression and complete control exercised by the government, anything
remotely resembling a keiko film was banned. Among the better-known examples
of keiko films are: Uchida Tomu's, Living Dolls - the story of the failure of an
insincere but talented man who cannot survive within the structure of a capitalist
society; Suzuki Shigeyoshi's What Made Her Do It? - a traditional melodrama of
a gentle young girl who is treated cruelly by society; Ito Daisuke's The Killing
Sword - a period piece, based on a peasant rebellion; and Tasaka Tomotaka's Look
at this Mother - the story of a widow with a child, who loses her job.
Mizoguchi's Metropolitan Symphony is the greatest of the keiko films.
Fujii, the son of the chairperson of a large company, announces his marriage to Reiko
(Irie Takako), a banker's daughter. A woman working in a cafe [translator's note: by
Social Realism • 43
r/ r.
Figure 3 Natsukawa Shizue (left) and Kosugi Isamu in Metropolitan Symphony

(1929).
implication a loose woman], Osome (Natsukawa Shizue), whom he plans to abandon,

arranges a meeting with Fujii at a hotel. Here he persuadesher to agree to a break-up.
On her way back from the hotel, Osome runs into an old friend, Genzo(KosugiIsamu),
a worker. Genzo's life in his fishing village has been ruined by Fujii's company and he
has been forced to come to Tokyo.
Genzo actually works at a construction site in Fujii's company where he quarrels
with Fujii's father and is thrown out. Reiko, who has heard Genzo's story, is struck by
his courage and feels very sympathetic towards him. One day, Genzo's company
friends wish to take a break and head for the slums of Fukagawa to distribute charity.
This is when Genzo insults Reiko, telling her she is listless and apathetic, with no
desire to work or to live. He calls her a wooden doll.
Fujii's father wants him to marry Reiko quickly as he is trying to get a loan from her
father. Reiko, however, thinks Fujii is a fool and will not accept him. Fujii wants to get
rid of Osome, who is pregnant, by buying her off, but Osome flies into a rage and
suffers a miscarriage in Genzo's house.
Meanwhile, a panicky call about the collapse of a building that Fujii's company is
constructing throws the celebratory party into confusion. Osome and Genzo sneak into
Fujii's house seekingrevenge. By this time, however, both Fujii's companyand Reiko's
father's Yamada Bank have gone bankrupt.
What comes across as a shallow melodrama condemning the bourgeois and

praising the proletariat seems to have actually been a powerful work. lida Shinbi,
in a review written for Kinema Junpo, 21 September 1929, commends the film in
the following words:
Scene changes bring out the sharp contrast between the rich and the poor. The occa
sional use of montage has an effect of reticence and grace. The editing has been well
thought-out in the way in which the characters are introduced, particularly the indus
trialist Fujii and his profligate son, the rich Yamada and his flapper daughter, and the
big magnates of the financial world. The montage has a direct impact on the viewer,
allowing the director to convey succinctly that which is difficult to say.
He adds that the strong depiction of the workers, the fishing village that Genzo has
been forced to leave, the scenes of conflict between the fishing company and the
fishermen, and the working men's district in the rain, all leave a lasting impression.
Not only was this the best Japanese film of 1929, it won accolades abroad as well.
What was exhibited in Japan, however, was a heavily censored version. Tomoda
Junichiro wrote an indignant review in Kinema Junpo on 1 January 1930.
The Japanese censor system rejected a work praised by the rest of the world. The
company asked Mizoguchi Kenji to make changes ... The changed Metropolitan
Symphony passed through the censors without any cuts and was released. What this
teaches us is that the censor system is a system [set up] to ruin films. So let us talk
about how Metropolitan Symphony was ruined.
In the uncensored version of the film the life of the bourgeois is shown as one of
deception, corruption and idle leisure in contrast to the simple life of the oppressed
proletariat. It seeks to strengthen the proletariat's feelings of enmity against the capi
talist. In the revised version, the sense of a class enemy is barely apparent in the last
scene when Genzo and Osome look at the fallen Fujii house and laugh loudly. Reiko is
a thorough capitalist when she comes to Tomigawa town in Fukagawa to help the poor,
and doesn't believe what Genzo tells her - in fact, she tells him to 'stop lying!'
However, the scene which shows her terrible confusion has been cut completely. The
contrast between bourgeois life and proletarian life has been destroyed.
In the title shot, the caption, 'You do not need to spend any money to kill the
labourer, if it doesn't rain for even ten days, that is enough' has also been cut. In fact,
almost all the scenes showing the proletariat have been sliced.
Although Metropolitan Symphony is rarely seen as a complete work, it has won

critical acclaim. Unfortunately, in the version normally screened many important
scenes have been deleted. This makes it unbalanced and no more than 'a marriage
of convenience, play and leisure and love, the invasion of capitalism into the coun
tryside, charity groups, capitalist economic activities, the collapse of capitalism,
ending with the exposure of the bourgeoisie' (from the earlier quoted Tomoda
Junichiro). In this form it could not even have made it to the list of the best ten.
In And Yet They Go (1931), Mizoguchi faced the same drastic cuts by the censors
and for a while he stopped making such films. The censors used the power of the
police to make matters difficult, effectively throttling them. For all that, there was
undeniably an internal weakness: far from believing in leftist ideas, film-makers
had done no more than jump onto a popular bandwagon.
Suzuki Shigeyoshi, director of What Made Her Do It? - the biggest hit among
all the keiko films - began to make short propaganda films for the Department of
the Army as soon as the popularity of keiko films began to wane. His assistant
director, Kimura Sotoji, was said to have been deeply impressed by leftist ideas.
He was also reputed to be a major driving force in keiko films after he showed
Youth Across the River, perhaps the last keiko film, in 1933. Yet, when the Sino-
Japanese War broke out, he also made a name with Kaigun Bakugekitai, a propa
ganda film for the Navy. Tasaka Tomotaka, director of Look at This Mother,
received an award for Five Scouts, one of his earliest militaristic-artistic films
made at the beginning of the Sino-Japanese War. Thereafter, he became one of the
more prominent supporters of the war.
Even Mizoguchi made films in support of militarism - Imperial Favour (1927),
Dawn in Manchuria (1932) and The Song of the Camp (1938) - without any of
them ever achieving success. He simply could not become a militarist even when
he tried.
How does one assess the value of keiko films today when not one has survived?
Motif of Westernization - Oyuki, the Madonna and Poppy
After the heavy censorship of Metropolitan Symphony and And Yet They Go,
Mizoguchi stopped making keiko films. Yoda Yoshikata recalls that when
Mizoguchi was making these films and stressing proletarian ideology, he was actu
ally under investigation by the police and was quite frightened by the experience.
It was enough to terrify anyone, and Mizoguchi could hardly be accused of cow
ardice. But what is certain is that he was no left-wing fighter either.
Mizoguchi moved for a while to Shinko Films, and buried himself in the Meiji
period and in emotional works, among them The Festival of Gion (1933) and The
Jinpu Gang (1934). Alongside, he made Oyuki, the Madonna (1935) and Poppy
(1935) with the independent company, Daiichi Eiga.
The Festival of Gion has been lost, but it is said to have been a very good film,
the story of unrequited love set against the backdrop of the collapse of an impor
tant merchant family. The Jinpu Gang was a man-centred film, as against
Mizoguchi's normal practice of focusing on the woman. Another film,

Chushingura, is also lost. From this point on, Mizoguchi began to concentrate on
studying a particular period and on focusing increasingly on a bygone world,
giving the impression that had fallen behind the ranks of the leading directors.
In any case, new and younger directors such as Ozu Yasujiro, Shimizu Hiroshi,
Yamanaka Sadao, Itami Mansaku, Gosho Heinosuke and Inagaki Hiroshi had
begun making a name for themselves. Compared to their fresh vision, Mizoguchi
- with his stressing on tiny details to create a Meiji environment - seemed like an
old, established director, who bore no resemblance to his youthfulness of the
1930s.
Oyuki, the Madonna is based on Kawaguchi Matsutaro's adaptation of
Maupassant's The Lump of Fat. To this story Mizoguchi added some of his own
elements. Maupassant's original work, set during the Franco-Prussian War, is the
story of a group of people who try to flee the battleground in a horse carriage. The
bourgeois use the expression Tump of fat' to refer sarcastically to the prostitute
who is riding along with them. When they are caught by the enemy, they offer to
send her to the commander as a human sacrifice. This done, when they leave the
battlefield the next day, all they do is censure her and call her vulgar.
The scene shifts to the Seinan war in Kyushu. At one stage, government forces
are seen trying to control the horse carriage. As a new element to the original story.
Figltre 4 Yamada Isuzu (left) and Hara Komako in Oyuki, the Madonna (1935).
the film shows these forces being defeated in battle. The commander flees and
hides in the home of the female protagonist, a sake server.
The original work is a critique of bourgeois selfishness. Maria is shown as a
humble woman,protected by a young man out to make a success of himself in the
world, a Mizoguchitheme so visible in other films- TheNikonBridge, Cascading
White Threads, The Downfall of Osen, Osaka Elegy and The Story of the Late
Chrysanthemums.
Poppy, a novel by Natsume Soseki, was made into a film based on a script by
Ito Daisuke. Mizoguchi was not comfortable with cerebral themes and his teaming
up with Natsume Soseki, one of the most intellectualof modem Japanese authors,
would suggest an ill-matched pair. However, there is a deep realism in the depic
tion of the life of the Westernized elite, and his portrayal of the sensibilities of
ordinary people (shomin) would be difficult to match today. It is a quintessential
Mizoguchi:
The poor young man has been looked after by an old-fashioned scholar of Chinese
(kangakusha). He comes to Tokyo to study and become a modem intellectual. He falls
in love with a cold and arrogant woman from an upper-class, Westernized family. To
use this love to gain an entry into the upper classes he must break his vow to the teacher
who has looked after him and whose daughter he has promised to marry.
The teacher's daughter, played by Okura Chiyoko, has believed implicitly in the love
of this young man since she was a child. She is shy and sweet, an 'unworldly daughter'
{pboko musume). The film has scenes that are typically associated with such a char
acter; for instance when she realizes that the young man no longer loves her, she wails
like it is the end of the world. All the old nuances ofshinpa tragedies are deeply etched
in her acting, something that a contemporary actress would find hard to evoke.
Social Criticism: Sisters of the Gion
In 1936, the Daiichi Film Company under Nagata Masakazu was facing manage
ment problems. Mizoguchi decided that even if the company were to collapse, he
would somehow leave behind an ambitious work. It led to the making of Osaka
Elegy and Sisters ofthe Gion, and proved that the Japanese film industry could, on
occasion, produce a great work despite adverse circumstances.
At the time these two films were made, the police were ruthlessly suppressing
keiko films. It was hardly opportune to make a left-wing critique of the social
system. But by using the perspective of discrimination against women, Mizoguchi
chose to approach the problem from a different, yet permissible angle. In any case
this theme was much closer to Mizoguchi's concerns than leftist ideology.
Osaka Elegy uses sharp realism to look at the familiar story of a fallen woman
(furyu shojo) and the road to her downfall. Sisters ofthe Gion, which examines dis
crimination against women through the story of a geisha, is a harsh criticism of the
feudal nature of the profession. The two films argue that it is only natural for women
to resent the prejudice they face in a male-dominated society and turn to crime to
fight it. Aside from the clarity of the argument, and the dark and tragic content of the
films, these films exude a lively, exhilarating strength. One obvious reason is that
Yamada Isuzu, whose father was a shinpa actor and mother a samisen performer,
played the protagonist's role in both films. Brought up as a child of these traditional
artists, Yamada Isuzu fell in love with the actress Tsukita Ichiro. She was at logger
heads with her father when Mizoguchi, who was aware of her problem, directed her.
She transposed to the screen some of this spirit of resistance and, keenly aware of
what was being demanded of her, brought an intense passion to her roles.
In one unforgettable scene in Sisters of the Gion, the young geisha is sitting in
front of the mirror and applying make-up as she prepares to leave the house
iyashiki). It is a 'one scene-one cut' shot where the camera is placed in front, at a
slight angle, giving the suggestion of a bird's-eye view. The camera is not always
fixed and neither is the editing frozen. This much said, this scene, even within an
altogether great film, is a particularly moving one.
When a geisha applies make-up, it is a moment of great solemnity, not unlike a
samurai preparing his body for a duel, a sportsman warming up before a match, or
a writer sitting at his desk gathering his thoughts. This is what the scene conveys
with great intensity.
Our usual, preconceived notions would have us believe that the heavy make-up
of a geisha is a sham, no more than a tool to beguile men with. But if we were to
ask instead how far the face of a geisha changes with makeup, we would begin to
wonder, question the act and look for its meaning.
Normally, the style of photography is meant to satisfy our curiosity about the
application of make-up. The close-ups of parts of her body - as when the liquid
face-paint is applied on the skin, when the tongue moistens the lipstick, or the eye
lashes are being fixed - are carefully planned to create this montage of the
moment. With these techniques, a director can freeze the moment, critique it or,
even as he shows the form, introduce an element of surprise.
But Mizoguchi did none of this. He used neither close-ups nor montage, and not
just in these scenes; in fact, he never used these techniques in any of his films. And
by rejecting them, he actually conveyed the solemnity of the moment for the
geisha. This was a truly fresh discovery.
All this was shown largely through Yamada Isuzu's acting skills. Mizoguchi
merely leff the camera running in front of her. In a sense, this was not something
new. However, I believe that the very act of a geisha applying make-up - regard
less of whether it is shown in an interesting way or as an exotic ritual - is a very
solemn one. Being the actress she was, Yamada Isuzu understood implicitly the
power of Mizoguchi's vision. Not many would have grasped the gravity of the act.
As a rule, we pay little attention to everyday human actions; but if we were to
observe them carefully, we would see their inherent beauty. He who can perceive
and convey this beauty has the makings of a director. But not all are so gifted. It
requires effort and exceptional skill to capture and express a beautiful thing in a
readily understandable way. For, no matter how much thought goes into capturing
the moment, it may just come out flat.
What is important is to experience the joy of discovering that there is so much
beauty even in the commonplace that it makes you forget yourself. In his search
for that beauty, Mizoguchi went beyond the affectation and ostentatious style of a
geisha's daily life. He saw its gravity. He observed without prejudice. The scales
fell from his eyes and he developed a unique way of looking, a way that was
grounded in society. Sisters of the Gion presents the customs of Gion in Kyoto in
the mid-1930s:
Two sisters work independently as geishas. The older one is Umekichi (Umemura
Yoko), the younger one is Omochya (Yamada Isuzu). Umekichi is a more traditional
geisha, very much part of the giri-ninjo world. Her earlier patron was a man named
Yoshizawa (Shiga), a wholesale silk dealer whose business has collapsed. Yoshizawa
leaves his house after a fight with his wife and though he is penniless, Umekichi gives
him shelter.
The younger sister is an exception among the geishas of Gion. She has graduated
from a women's high school and is a modern woman. She cannot bear to see her elder
sister's traditional behaviour and is angered by the absurd idea of duty {girt) that a
geisha has to perform for a man who is just enjoying himself. She, therefore, hatches a
plan.
First she woos the head clerk (banto) of a cloth store who is in love with her and gets
him to make some clothes for her elder sister. She thinks that if her sister ventures out
in a beautiful kimono and sits in a good seat in the theatre, she will perhaps attract a
better patron. She also talks to an antique dealer, asks him to become her elder sister's
patron and repay the contract fee that Yoshizawa has given. She returns Yoshizawa's
money and asks him to leave. Completely in the dark about these machinations, the
elder sister is surprised when Yoshizawa suddenly departs. The younger sister tells her
that all men are alike, and urges her to accept the antique dealer as a patron.
Aware that the head clerk steals goods from the kimono store. Kudo (Shindo Eitaro),
the owner, barges into Omochya's house to reclaim his goods. Omochya manages to
persuade Kudo into becoming her patron.
Everything seems to be proceeding according to plan when suddenly disaster strikes.
The elder sister accidentally finds out where Yoshizawa has gone. She is furious when
she learns that her younger sister has manipulated her. The head clerk of the kimono
store, who has suddenly been rejected by the younger sister and has lost his job as well,
gets together with his taxi-driver friend to plan revenge against Omochya. They take
her for a ride and throw her out of the moving car.
Omochya suffers serious injuries and is taken to hospital. While she is nursed by her
elder sister, she asks, 'Why do the men of this world bully us, why must they bully us?'
The elder sister, who is always preaching to the younger one about observing giri-ninjo
faithfully, replies that despite her sincerity she feels Yoshizawa, who has found a new
job at his wife's village, has forgotten her.
This film was evaluated as a realist film, a bitter exposure of the tough life of
the geisha, far removed from its external glamour. People were moved by its
stinging indictment of the system - socially, ethically and in class terms - and by
its strong depiction of the new breed of woman who would fight male selfishness.
Many films in post-war Japan exposed or condemned social injustice, and from
that perspective Sisters ofthe Gion, although it may lack a fresh approach, still had
an indestructible brightness that set it apart from others.
At one level, this is a story of a geisha who conceives of a crude plan to ensnare
a man into supporting her. The film uses this plot to approach the question of
women's position with great seriousness and to argue that within the means avail
able to them, this is the only way they can resist men.
So far, Mizoguchi had been respected as an experienced director. With these two
films however he was given the ultimate accolade - 'master'. Osaka Elegy, Sisters
ofthe Gion and films by Ozu Yasujiro and Uchida Tomu used realism, as a means
to analyse society. This was truly one of the golden ages of Japanese cinema.
Complications of Class-Consciousness: The Straits ofLove and Hate
With The Straits of Love and Hate (1937), a film with a strong melodramatic
content, Mizoguchi proved that he could craft a polished work. Made at the Shinko
Kinema studios it was based on a work by Kawaguchi Matsutaro. The original,
however, was not a fully formed story. Yoda Yoshikata thought up a plot about a
mother and daughter as a pair of comic (manzai) performers. When he discussed
this with Kawaguchi Matsutaro and Mizoguchi Kenji, Kawaguchi suggested, 'Let's
do anothQT Resurrection'YodsL then incorporated the suggestion into his own story
and wrote a script.
Kawaguchi Matsutaro, an important shinpa tragedy writer and performer, kept
Mizoguchiin touch with shinpa. TheStraits ofLoveand Hate has the air of a shinpa
melodrama. It is difficult to see Tolstoy's Resurrection in the film. Yet the two do
share some common traits - self-sacrificing women who fall in love with rich young
men and are abandoned by them. They lead difficult lives and end up as whores.
However, Nekhlyudov, the protagonist of Resurrection is different. True, he causes an

accident with Katushya because of his youthful impetuosity, but basically he is a won
derful young man. He repents, has noble intentions of helping Katushya and is deter
mined to lead a respectable life.
In The Straits of Love and Hate, Kenkichi, the young owner of a hotel (ryokan) in
rural Shinshu, is a weak young man who cannot look his father in the eye. Kenkichi
elopes with Ofiimi (Yamaji Fumiko), a maid, to Tokyo, where he idles away his time
living off her earnings. His father arrives from the village just when they run out of
money. He forces his son to leave Ofumi who has been looking after him. Living in the
same pension as Ofumi is an accordion player,Yoshitaro(Kawazu Seizaburo), with the
air of a yakuza. While Ofumi encourages his friendship, she still has to take care of the
son she had with Kenkichi. The son is looked after by a wet-nurse, while she works as
a waitress. Her life deteriorates. She ends up an alcoholic.
As time passes, she and Yoshitaro become comic (manzai) performers and join a
travelling troupe that tours the countryside. She takes her child along with her. When
they arrive at the town where Kenkichi lives, he comes to see their performance. A part
of Ofumi believes that Kenkichi will see in her manzai performance the story of her
abandonment, and of how she has brought up his child. Full of remorse, he will take
her and their child back to his house. But Kenkichi's father browbeats his son, telling
him to reflect on whether Ofumi is really the kind of woman he can take home.
Kenkichi, as expected, can only make meek excuses and try and persuade his father.
But he is unable to take a firm stand. Disgusted, Ofumi decides that this is not the home
that she wants to live in. Picking up her child, she leaves Kenkichi and continues her
travels with Yoshitaro.
The portrayal of Kenkichi's character in The Straits of Love and Hate is dis
tinctly different from Resurrection, and the film comes across wonderfully as a
Japanese story. Kenkichi is not, like Nekhlyudov, a man with a strong sense of
individuality; rather, he is someone who tamely follows his father, always flut
tering about nervously, a typical example of a profligate son of a wealthy rural
patriarch.
YodaYoshikata took Kawaguchi Matsutaro's suggestion about Resurrection, but
blended it with the story of a woman manzai performer that he had in mind. In
transforming the scene where Nekhlyudov sees the exiled Katushya to suit manzai,
he transformed it into something far more interesting. In Resurrection, Nekhlyudov
appears in court as a juror where he once again, unexpectedly, meets Maskurov
(Kachushya), a woman of ill-repute, who is being questioned about a murder. In
The Straits ofLove and Hate, Kenkichi sees Ofumi doing a duet with Yoshitaro in
a small village theatre, performing her role with lightness and humour despite being
abandoned by a man, bearing his child and earning an unsavoury reputation.
In old Japan, pitiful bodies of unfortunate people (ingamono) were displayed to
the public for money. Some of them were actually malformed, but most were
fakes; others had gained notoriety for all kinds of criminal offences. These pathetic
groups were exhibited along with the play.
If you allow me a slight digression, I would like to add that the tradition of ing
amono has been intellectually continued in the I-novel, one of the more developed
forms in modern Japanese literature. Other modern forms of this practice are the
currently popular TV programmes where viewers reveal embarrassing personal
facts just to make people laugh. The psychology that connects these current prac
tices to the earlier one is that regardless of whether exposing one's shame evokes
contempt or support, it does serve to unburden oneself.
In the years that shinpa tragedies were popular in the Taisho period.
Resurrection had often been translated and performed as a play, or had been made
into a film. In Japan's modernizing society, the story of unrequited love in a feudal
setting with strict clan divisions was the sort of drama that evoked an easy
response. Love between people of different social status was unimaginable. Even
when Japan became more democratic and when status-consciousness began to
decline, the problems of staging such a play persisted. Only in a society where
class distinctions are rapidly collapsing can the melodrama of love between people
of different social status be easily accepted.
Love is used to give shape to, and make visible, a notion of class. The conflict
in the story between those who wish to maintain the status quo and those in love
who wish to change it, creates the basis for the drama. In Japan shinpa plays such
themes were popular from the late 1890s to the late 1930s, a time when the film
Tree ofLove became a great hit.
Tolstoy's Resurrection - as a model of a drama of unrequited love in a class-con
scious society - was avidly studied by the Japanese artists of the time. Tolstoy was
concerned about destroying the system of class distinctions. Believing that the
nobility itself could renounce these distinctions, he made Nekhlyudov, a nobleman
like him, behave as a humanist. In some ways it was a naive if self-satisfying idea.
But of course he knew there was no simple solution to the problem. Katushya
refuses Nekhlyudov's help and decides to live with a 'political criminal', and in her
choice lies the kernel of class conflict. In the translations of Resurrection available
then, class conflict was vague. The accent seemed to be on how a man and woman
lose themselves when they take to serious crime, but once they recognize their
error, they embark on the path of repentance.
Ofumi briefly accepts Kenkichi's offer of help in The Straits ofLove and Hate,
but then refuses it and returns to Yoshitaro. She is convinced that only the poor can
understand the poor - not because she is conscious of class, but because she has
moved away from Kenkichi's timid and haphazard life.
The ruling classes in Japan never managed to establish a ruling ideology. Unlike
Russia or Europe, which threw up thinkers like Tolstoy from within a class-ridden
society, the Japanese did not go beyond their superficiality. Here lies the sharp dif
ference between the two worlds.
That is why - until the translator himself clarified that The Straits ofLove and
Hate was a translation of Resurrection - it was difficult to figure out how it could
be so brilliantly transformed into a Japanese drama!
The Death of Mizoguchi's Younger Brother - Yoshio
In 1938, Mizoguchi's younger brother, Yoshio, died at the age of thirty-three. He

had graduated from the English Literature Department of Hosei University and
had worked for Toshiba Corporation. Suddenly and without warning, he began to
act effeminate and nervous. In some ways he was naive and exceptionally pure-
hearted.
He had read a good deal of Marx and leaned towards Marxism. He would
lecture for hours, sometimes writing characters in the air with his fingers to explain
his point to his sister's elder son, Matsudaira Tadanori. Unable to muster the
courage to buy books himself, he would send his nephew to the bookseller while
he watched hidden behind an electric pole. In 1933, when Kobayashi Takiji (an
outstanding writer of the proletarian literary movement) was tortured to death by
the police, Yoshio began fearing that he, too, would be killed. He refused to answer
the phone, and would simply stand around and shiver. He even tried to commit
suicide by jumping from the office window. He finally became anorexic and was
admitted to hospital.
Mizoguchi genuinely loved his brother. One day he went with Matsudaira
Tadanori to visit him. Yoshio stood gazing at a point in the sky through a large hole
in the wall. He was getting thinner by the day, and began resembling a dry stick.
Looking at him, Mizoguchi told his nephew repeatedly, 'This is the face of the best
human being.'
Yoshio is said to have uttered a sound and,without any apparent pain, collapsed
and died. It was as if he had prepared himself to die, like a living Bodhisattva. His
nephew, Tadanori, while conceding that Yoshio was not mentally normal, believed
that he died because his aimless search for perfection was no match compared to
Mizoguchi's zest for life.
-5-
The Fate of Matinee Idols
Genealogy of the Lead Actor and the Matinee Idol
One of the striking characteristics of Mizoguchi's cinema was that it had very few
strong male characters. The central figure was usually a woman. The men who
played opposite her were either the ineffectual kind whom she protected, as in The
Downfall of Osen, The Stoiy of the Late Chrysanthemums etc., or the unreliable
kind as in Osaka Elegy, The Straits ofLove and Hate, A Picture ofMadame Yuki.
They could be weak and contemptible, first abandoning her, then taking revenge,
as in Sisters ofthe Gion and Street ofShame. There could also be insensitive, pro
claiming their progressive ideology, then showing their disdain as in My Love
Burns, or oppressing women and pushing them into prostitution. Viewing
Mizoguchi's oeuvre is like observing the whole gamut of worthless Japanese men,
and the women who put up with them and help them.
However, strong, reliable and wonderful men do occasionally appear in his
films: Oishi Kuranosuke in Chushingura and Tairano Kiyomori in Taira Clan
Saga are ideal men. But they are the exceptions, and not particularly admired for
their roles.
In A Story from Chikamatsu, Mohei - who valiantly protects the heroine Osan
and ultimately dies a heroic death - is one such exception. In popular Western
romances the hero is, at least initially, modest with women. In a certain number of
Japanese films, on the other hand, when the lovers are caught and the man is taken
to prison for adultery, he assumes a macho image, slapping his chest, smiling con
fidently and displaying all of a sudden heroic qualities that he had not possessed
before.
Zushio, in Sansho the Bailijf, escapes to save himself from slavery, but returns
to the manor (shoen) to liberate other slaves, and finally helps his mother, who is
herself a slave. However, what detracts somewhat from his hero-like image is that
he runs away on learning of his younger sister's sacrifice. In the original story it is
the determined, strong-willed elder sister who helps her weak, unreliable younger
brother escape. This is understandable; it is the strong helping the weak. In the
film, however, Mizoguchi changed the character of the brother who is able to
55
escape thanks to the sacrifice of a weak, younger sister. In changing the ages of the
two lead characters for convenience, Mizoguchi considerably reduced the sense of
manliness of the male lead.
On this one point, Kurosawa Akira is just the opposite of Mizoguchi.
Kurosawa's main objective is to demonstrate the strength, vigour and magnificence
of the man, to bring out his full strength and glory, with the woman providing full
support.
The basis of Mizoguchi and Kurosawa's almost diametrically antithetical styles
lies in their temperament and character. But a more fundamental reason can be
found in Japanese culture itself, in its two-layered male and female structure.
Mizoguchi and Kurosawa represent its two facets.
Kabuki has two kinds of male protagonists. The lead actor is strong, impressive,
deeply considerate and very 'male'. He resembles the hero of Western theatre but
is different from the heroes of chivalric ballads since in kabuki love is never a
major consideration. The other is the matinee idol - a handsome man, kind to
women, pure of heart, a man who cannot live without the love of the other sex, and
who is almost always in love. Most characters of the latter kind are weak, some
what rash and insincere, and lack 'manly' solidity. In Chushingura, for instance,
Ohboshi Yuranosuke (Oishi Kuranosuke) is the lead character and Hayano Kanpei
is the matinee idol. In the play Kanjincho, Benkei is the lead character while
Yoshitsune is the matinee idol.
Basically, kabuki has a ruffian and a gentleman. We also have period pieces
(jidaigeki) and the in-between tales (sewamono). The period pieces - rich and
vibrant spectacles with dramatic entrances by the hero or the ruffian - require a
lead actor. Romantic tragedies need a gentleman, while the matinee idol is usually
seen in sewamono where you have a realistic depiction of the prevailing social
customs among merchants.
I am not sure that men and women view kabuki along these divided lines. By
and large, men seem to like the roles of ruffians and period pieces, perhaps
because they can see in the lead actor a representation of the 'real man'. Women
like the gentlemen and sewamono pieces where the matinee idol, even when some
what unreliable, is considerate and caring, and treats them as equals. They have no
particular fondness for the lead actor, no matter how reliable or noble he is.
In his book, A History ofFilm People: Mizoguchi Kenji (Jinbutsu nihon eiga shi
I (Mizoguchi Kenji), Kishi Matsuo quotes from an article written by Manpontei
for a film magazine. The Age ofFilms (Eiga jidai) in the late 1920s:
Mizoguchi's character and appearance were appropriate for the role of a romantic char
acter. Temperamentally, he maintained his composure whether he was being praised or
criticised. He had the style of a nobleman and this was evident in his clothes and acces
sories. He transformed the usual image of the artist into something more refined.
Women who met him even once, were attracted by his defenceless, shy demeanour. He
The Fate ofMatinee Idols ® 57
was pure of heart and highly emotional. A certain type of woman finds these traits very
attractive.
A real matinee idol!

There is a story about Mizoguehi, the young and upcoming director in 1925.
He met a homeless woman, Ichijo Yuriko in Kiyamachi, Kyoto. Yuriko was a
half-maid/half-prostitute (yatona), and lived with a friend who was said to have
once been a geisha in Tokyo. Mizoguehi and Yuriko formed a relationship but
fought and argued incessantly. One day Yuriko slashed Mizoguehi's back with a
razor. The incident, reported in the newspapers, caused a scandal and Mizoguehi,
who was shooting Shining in the Red Sunset, was thrown out and replaced by
Saegusa Genjiro. Yuriko was arrested, but because Mizoguehi gave her a really
sympathetic defence, she was released without being prosecuted. However, the
head of the studio, Ikenaga Hirohisa, separated the two and Yuriko returned to
Tokyo.
Had it ended here, it would have been no more than a simple scandal. But being
a sympathetic young man, Mizoguehi began worrying that Yuriko would commit
suicide. He went to Tokyo to look for her. A Tokyo ryokan (hotel) owner, the friend
of a friend, helped him in his search. They found her working as a live-in maid in
a hotel in Tawarachyo. Mizoguehi stayed there with her. Much was tolerated of the
young Mizoguehi because he would give the impression of a defenceless, unas
suming, pure and beautiful man who women could easily fall in love with. But for
all his resemblance to a young matinee idol, he did not, like the young man in A
Storyfrom Chikamatsu, try a double suicide for a woman's love. He was, in fact,
a bit of a coward. Kishi Matsuo describes how the love affair between Mizoguehi
and Yuriko ended:
Mizoguehi was taken back to the ryokan where he hung around, watched a film, read a
book. He would get up late in the mornings and go to a temple bathhouse next door.
(The priest was related to the Imperial house.) Many people connected with the arts
came to this neighbourhood. Among them was a minstrel {naniwabushi katari) with
whom Mizoguehi would occasionally chat. One day the minstrel said, T am sorry, but
I would like to give you my opinion. You are young and cannot become a woman's
pimp. Leave her, get back to Kyoto as quickly as possible and work hard at your job.
Don't worry, you will soon forget this woman.'
Mizoguehi refrained from answering; but he turned over the minstrel's words in his
mind and decided to follow his advice. He returned to Kyoto and to his job at Nikkatsu.
This was towards the end of autumn 1925.Yuriko, who couldn't afford the ryokan, left
to become a prostitute in Suzaki, and then disappeared. Later, Mizoguehi was to repeat
edly use this story of a man who elopes with a woman, leaves her and goes away, in
fact simply abandons her.
Kishi Matsuo says that this kind of story was first used 'mAnd Yet they Go (1931):
At the beginning of the film, the man and woman have eloped, but the man is made to
go back. The woman is left all alone and treated as someone of ill-repute. This may
have been a simple scene, but Mizoguchi showed he was a master by the way he held
the long shot of the stares of cold contempt that people cast on the woman.
This film is no longer available, but similar scenes can be found in The Straits of
Love and Hate (1937), The Story ofthe Late Chrysanthemums (1939) and The Life
of Oharu (1952).
Mizoguchi, who played the role of a matinee idol in his own life, was a genius
at portraying matinee idols in his work. His research into this character may have
led him to discover more about himself, but it is also true that he worked for a
studio that made films based on contemporary dramas. In Japan, studios making
period films and those making contemporary dramas were different. Period dramas
were made largely in Kyoto, while contemporary dramas were made in Tokyo.
When the Tokyo studio was destroyed in the Kanto earthquake, Mizoguchi began
making contemporary dramas in the Kyoto studio after autumn 1923. However,
while the studio, which was a part of Nikkatsu, did shift to Kyoto, Nikkatsu period
dramas and contemporary dramas were produced independently.
As a rule, contemporary drama films had matinee idols as their main protago
nists, while period drama films had lead actors. In fact, the image of the ideal lead
actor in kabuki was incorporated in its entirety into period films. Onoe
Matsunosuke, Okochi Denjiro, Bando Tsumasaburo, Mifline Toshiro and Katsu
Shintaro were lead actors in typical period films, while Takakura Ken acted in
films of chivalry. Which is why it is impossible to imagine Mifune Toshiro in a love
scene. The lead actors and the kind of films in which they performed had a large
male following, although some women also admired these films.
Matinee idols featured in period drama as well. The most representative of these
was Hasegawa Kazuo. As a matinee idol on the kabuki stage, he specialized in
romantic and emotional roles {wagoto) even after he became a star in period films.
His large fan following was almost exclusively female and each woman felt that
his glances were meant for her alone. Hasaegawa Kazuo was an exceptional talent
among period actors.
The fans who saw the male ideal of period drama in the bold and rough
(aragoto) style of actors such as Okochi Denjiro or BandoTsumasaburo, described
Hasegawa as effeminate (niyake) and were indifferent to his style. Effeminate
meant someone who spent his time pursuing women, someone neither sober nor
reliable. In his last years, Hasegawa acted in Mizoguchi's The Story of the Late
Chrysanthemums, a cinematic version of a kabuki and a 'romantic and emotional'
{wagoto) masterpiece. Hasegawa, with his vast wagoto repertoire - although he
was getting on in years and did not look like a young romantic hero any more -
The Fate ofMatinee Idols • 59
gave a most convincing performance. The Western audience, though, seemed to

dislike his style, finding it strange that a weak and unreliable man should do love
scenes. Ever since chivalric ballads developed in the West, the traditional hero had
always been strong and trustworthy. Mifune Toshiro is not always considered one
of the top-ranking Japanese actors, but he does represent the ideal of the strong
Japanese male, at least for the West.
In the feudal period, the standing pose (tachiyaku) [Translator's note: this pres
ents the whole body, as opposed to poses where the actor is sitting, etc.] was appre
ciated because form was an important element in the social structure. However, as
Western influence increased in the Meiji period, the question of how to preserve
this pose became problematic. The ideal for a tachiyaku is the samurai, but the
samurai, as a class, were abolished and samurai-like behaviour was considered
passe. Intellectuals replaced the samurai as the leaders of society and, as they
learned from the West, they began stressing the idea of love as against the wild
behaviour of the ruffian (aragoto) in kabuki. In a sense, they were left midway,
neither able to appreciate the beauty of the traditional tachiyaku poses nor
attracted to the Western hero. And period drama films continued to have their fans
for those who still wanted to see men behaving like men. About 40 per cent of all
Japanese films made between 1900 and 1950 (excluding the US Occupation) were
period drama films, which is most unusual and calls for an explanation.
If we were to link this to the world of publishing, we would see that from the
end of the Meiji period to the end of the Taisho, quick, easy-to-read novels had the
largest sales. Their protagonists were, by and large, like the tachiyaku of kabuki.
The stories had similar characters - masterful heroes, fencers, champions of the
underdog and rebels - and were written in the traditional narrative style, but used
the methods of a modern novel. Most of the period drama films based their scripts
on material from these stories and popular novels.
Melodrama and the Matinee Idol Stars
While male readers welcomed the role of the tachiyaku type of protagonist in
stories and popular literature, female readers were entertained by family novels
which began appearing at the end of the nineteenth century and by the films and
plays based on them.
There appeared a flood of films with social messages. The popular novel,
Konjiki yasha, shows how people with social ambitions face serious problems in
pursuing a successful life; The Little Cuckoo describes a daughter-in-law being ill-
treated by her mother-in-law; in My Fault, a young girl is misled and seduced by
a villain but overcomes her misfortune; while in Bygone Friends, the pure love of
a mother-in-law actually resolves problems. These films showed women enduring
adversity or being used by men, as also men trying to help unhappy women.
60 • Kenji Mizogiichi and the Art ofJapanese Cinema
The films depended on stirring women emotionally - they showed traits of the
female character and women's stoic acceptance of their fate. Even when the ending
was happy, numerous scenes of the unhappy woman brought out her lover's weak
ness and unreliability, his rashness and frivolity. The male role had to be that of a
matinee idol. The origin of the female character's trials and tribulations lay in her
love for a weak and frivolous man. In Japan, good, reliable men, i.e. the tachiyaku
variety, do not display their love. The roots of this reserve can be traced to
Confucianism where it was not considered refined for a man to make a public
display of his love for a woman. Rather, it was regarded as a somewhat charming
weakness. Only a matinee idol character - confident of his appeal to women and
sensitive to them - could bare his emotions.
A popular Edo period, humorous, poetic form called senryu said that 'an
amorous man has neither money nor power.' This was an apt description of a
matinee idol. Several examples can be found in stories of heroines falling in love
with just such a man sans money or power, suffering on his behalf and finding hap
piness at the end. The main section of A Storyfrom Chikamatsu is well known in
kabuki for the wagoto character. The matinee idol who is in an unhappy situation
falls in love. Despite his beloved's brave efforts to help him (he has no money,
power or intelligence) and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot to extricate
himself from his misfortune. Finally both are driven to suicide.
Modern women's melodrama, whose star was usually a matinee idol, estab
lished itself as an important part of modern cinema. It played up the heroine's
courage, the man's shallowness, was popular with women and had a happy end.
Among the well-known matinee idols were were Okada Tokihiko in the 1920s,
Uehara Ken in the 1930s, Ikebe Ryo in the 1940s and Sata Keiji in the 1950s.
The tachiyaku character appeared in modern plays too. The influence of
American films led to the creation of characters that occasionally combined the
fine aspects of both the tachiyaku and the matinee idol, resulting in a strong, reli
able and sensitive male protagonist (Hayakawa Sessyu is an admirable example).
The superstars of Western, particularly American films, possessed these qualities
which so attracted Japanese fans and film-makers. In Japan, actors such Suzuki
Denmei in the 1920s, Ohinata Den or Saburi Sin in the 1930s, Tsuruta Koji in the
1950s and Ishihara Yujiro in the 1960s, are all representative of this model.
Hayakawa Sessyu also combined within him the qualities of a tachiyaku and a
matinee idol.
Unlike Nakadai Tatsuya, these actors were never labelled effeminate by the
general public. Moreover, unlike the heroes of American cinema - Clark Gable or
Gary Cooper, for example - who would enact love scenes even as they grew old,
Japanese male leads did not play such roles forever. Once they reached middle age
they either stopped acting altogether, or performed roles without too many female
characters around them. They also had the option of acting the strict teacher to friv
olous young men, or taking on pure tachiyaku roles. The choice was theirs. Japanese
actors popular with Western audiences (Hayakawa Sessyu, Mifune Toshiro and
Nakadai Tatsuya, for example) have generally been tachiyaku-tyipQ actors.
Most of the female protagonists in Mizoguchi's films had to die in the end
because of their love for a weak man. In Cascading White Threads (1933), the
woman protagonist is sentenced to death for killing (in self-defence) the money
lender from whom she has taken a large loan to pay for her lover's studies. The
prosecutor tells her that the lover can come to her defence and testify if he wishes.
But the irresolute man fails to do so. In The Downfall of Osen (1935) too, the
female protagonist is in love with an irresponsible fellow, no older in age than her
younger brother. She sends him money for his studies, suffers a mental breakdown
and is convinced she has paralysis. The lover who, thanks to her help, has become
a doctor, does nothing to help her.
The hero in A Story from Chikamatsu (1954), based on Chikamatsu
Monzaemon's work, is thoroughly ineffectual. All he can do is suffer the death
penalty with his lover for their adulterous relationship. Mizoguchi was dissatisfied
with the matinee idol character and never made films based on family novels
which showed stoic women loving unstable men, suffering, and then finding hap
piness quite by accident. What he did make, though, were films where the woman
who falls in love with a weak man emerges the stronger for it.
The matinee idol character was also idolized by women who were both attracted
to the magnificence of the tachiyaku, and repelled by his tyrannical ways. What
they found most appealing in the matinee idol was his sensitivity, gentleness and
expression of love, as against the tachiyaku who kept them at an arm's length. Even
if such a character was essentially weak, women wanted him to be pure and
sincere. And this is exactly how Mizoguchi used them, as can be seen in the per
formances of Okada Tokihiko in Cascading White Threads and Natsukawa Daijiro
in The Downfall of Osen. He was to change only later.
Dual Structure of Culture and the Fate of Matinee Idols - Osaka

Elegy
The film that marks Mizoguchi's handling of realism in Japanese cinema is the
invaluable Osaka Elegy, a work that will long be remembered forYamada Isuzu's
lively portrayal of Ayako, the young, rebellious, main character.
Ayako is a telephone operator in a medicine store in Osaka. Her father embezzles

company money, goes off fishing and complains all day long. Ayako, who has no wish
to see her father in jail, feels she must somehow raise the stolen money. She is in love
with Nishimura, a colleague, and decides to discuss the problem with him. Inevitably,
Nishimura gives her no support.
Asai, the owner of the company where Ayako works, asks her to become his mis
tress. Ayako agrees on the condition that he quietly returns to the company the money
Figure 6 Yamada Isuzu in Osaka Elegy (1936).
her father has embezzled. She quits her company job and starts living a luxurious life
with Asai. One day she accidentally meets Nishimura, who proposes to her. She does
not tell him about her situation, but thinks that she would indeed like to marry him.
Asai's wife discovers that Ayako is his mistress. Asai cannot face her and is forced
to leave Ayako. Delighted by her freedom, Ayako plans to go to Nishimura's house. On
the way, however, she meets her younger sister, who informs her that their younger
brother has left his university because there is no money to pay his fees.
Ayako decides that she must raise this money. She calls Nishimura and Fujino - a
stockbroker who has frequently given her suggestive looks - to her apartment. Fujino
arrives, and just as he gets into an amorous mood, Nishimura appears. Ayako tells
Fujino that Nishimura is her husband, and demands money from Fujino for trying to
commit adultery with a married woman. Fujino goes straight to the police and files a
complaint. Nishimura and Ayako are arrested. The shy Nishimura calls Ayako intimi
dating, and accuses her of fooling and using him. Ayako, in the next room, listens in
astonishment to Nishimura's statement.
Ayako returns home after her father frees her from police custody. But her furious
younger brother feels they should have nothing to do with a promiscuous woman,
indeed they should forbid her from entering the house. Her father has never told anyone
that Ayako had returned the money he had embezzled. Nor has Ayako mentioned that
the blackmail about adultery was to raise money for her brother's education. Ayako
does not justify what she did, but she does expect to be warmly received in the family
fold. What happens is the reverse; she is abused and labelled a loose woman by her
brother and berated by her sister; as for her loathsome father, he refuses to explain that
the crime she committed was in the interest of the family.
When Ayako understands that those nearest and dearest to her are cold and unfor
giving she runs out of the house without offering any explanation. In the last scene we
see her standing on a bridge, leaning against the railing, looking down at the waters on
a gloomy night.
In this story Nishimura has the exaggerated weakness of a matinee idol. A good
young man he may be, but he cannot stop Ayako from taking this thoughtless step.
When the police arrest him as an accomplice, his only instinct is to protect himself,
without a thought in his head for her. Looking as if he would at any moment break
into uncontrollable tears, he ends up making damaging statements.
Hara Kensaku, who played Nishimura, was not a pure matinee idol type. He
played many different roles, including tachiyaku, or the dashing hero in period
drama for children, but never one of someonee so utterly cowardly, and it sur
prised us all. His incredible acting skill, though, gave the character credibility.
For instance, when Ayako threatens Fujino, Nishimura retreats silently to a
corner of the room, trying to make himself as small as possible. His seated
figure looking the other way, is both pitiful and funny. He truly comes across as
a person who, suddenly and without warning, is turned into an accomplice of
blackmail by the woman he loves. All he can think of is that this frightening time
will somehow pass quickly. I don't see any real man wanting to cut so dis
graceful a figure.
For all these weaknesses, the matinee idol was normally depicted with sym
pathy. But in this film Mizoguchi was merciless. The woman protagonist gradually
awakens to the spinelessness of her lover, and is shaken by the coldness of her
father and brother. She then grows taller than any man; her demeanour exudes a
steely resolve as she sets off to meet the challenge. All the major moments in
Osaka Elegy are long shots, with only one close-up being used at the end to show
Ayako's expression. And the face of young Yamada Isuzu (as Ayako) wears a
fiercely determined expression as if to suggest that she will henceforth rely only
on herself.
We have a similar situation in The Straits ofLove and Hate (1937):
The character of the protagonist (played by Yamaji Fumiko) changes completely in the
course of this film. In the first half, she is a maid in a hotel (ryokan) in a rural town.
She is loved by the son of the owner, and becomes pregnant, but his father will not let
them get married. The son runs off to town with her.
Unfortunately, he is the typical 'amorous man with no money or power'. He neither
works nor fulfils his obligations. When they have a hard time trying to make ends meet,
he simply dumps her and returns to his father's ryokan in the countryside.
Up to this point Fumiko - like all heroines of romantic melodrama - is submissive
and pliant, and flutters at the mere confession of love, even by an unreliable man. Then
her character does a volte-face. She puts her child in foster care, begins working in a
bar to provide for him, becomes a comic (manzai) performer in a travelling troupe, and
is transformed into a woman more hardened than any man.
Her troupe arrives at the rural town where her former lover is now the owner of the
ryokan. He meets her and once again declares that he would like to marry her formally
and bring her and the child to live with him. This time, she flatly refuses - not only
because of past bitterness, but because she is now brimming with a new-found confi
dence and no longer needs any help from the faint-hearted.
This was the first time that Yamaji Fumiko - who had so far starred only in tradi
tional women's melodrama ~ acted in a Mizoguchi film. She amazed her fans by
her performance of a lower-class woman with a core of great strength. Shindo
Kaneto, the art assistant for this film, was equally surprised by Yamaji's transfor
mation, and decided to become Mizoguchi's disciple.
These two male roles - the tachiyaku and the matinee idol - arose out of the
dual structure of the feudal culture in Japan and were consolidated through popular
plays. The experiment to transform the roles into one of the chivalric hero (strong,
reliable, loving), born of the popular Western tradition, happened during the time
of the modernization and Westernization of Japanese cinema. The tradition was
difficult to adapt and often left one with an unnatural impression. Mizoguchi began
from the popular and conventional melodrama for women that brought together a
Figure 7 Simizu Masao (left) and Yamaji Fumiko in The Straits

ofLove and Hate (1937).
pitiable woman and a weak and handsome man (nimaeme), but went on to imbue
the woman with a supreme strength of character. He was moving towards a strin
gent criticism of his vacillation. There may be several reasons why he swerved
away so completely from the original shinpa-tyipQ melodrama.
First, it was Yoda Yoshikata who wrote the script for Osaka Elegy. Yoda had
been an unknown figure until then. But once trained by Mizoguchi, he worked
extensively for him and was to write most of his future scripts. What now begins
to appear as a characteristic in Mizoguchi's films- distaste for the weak and hand
some man - may have been Yoda's personal approach.
But occasionally,YodaYoshikata wrote scripts for other directors as well. In his
script for Inoue Kintaro's Crow in the Moonlight, he gives a sympathetic portrayal
of a characteristic shinpa protagonist. Other films (Itami Mansaku,'s Just Take it
Out, Yamanaka Sadao's, The Village Tattooed Man, Gosho Heinosuke's The
Baggage of Life and Ozu Yasujiro's Tokyo Hotel) made in 1935, a year before
Osaka Elegy, explored a kind of realism different from the realism of keiko films
that had been popular five years earlier. The new films were calmer works, out to
create a sense of wonder in people through their sharp observations of reality.
When Mizoguchi saw these young film-makers making a name for themselves
through their realistic works, he must have wanted to outstrip them with an even
more 'realistic' film. In all likelihood, he incorporated a self-critique into his inves
tigation of realism.
In his later years when he made Women of the Night (1948), he went to
Yoshiwara Hospital to study the behaviour of panpan (prostitutes during the US
occupation - street walkers) who were under treatment for various venereal dis
eases. The director of the hospital gave him details about their afflictions and said,
'Far from being the result of a crime committed by these girls, it is above all a
crime committed by men.' At that moment Mizoguchi cried out, 'You are right. It's
my crime.' This story was related by Itoya Hisao, the producer who went along
with him.
Mizoguchi owed many debts to women. His first wife had once slashed him with
a razor following a lover's spat. During the shooting of Osaka Elegy his second
wife was not mentally stable. Mizoguchi took the blame for her problem on
himself and on his relationship with women. His bias against the conventional
shinpa melodrama grew out of his personal experience.
In his later films he increasingly attacked male meanness, cowardice, wiliness,
violence and discrimination towards women. And yet he was not overly dis
paraging of the matinee idol character - or else he may have lost his female fol
lowing altogether!
This is especially true of The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums, a cinematic
version of a highly evaluated shinpa play, with the most famous onnagata,
Hanayagi Shotaro, in the role of the matinee idol role. The conditions for this role
suited him perfectly. He is a beautiful and untrustworthy young man who finally
grows up only when he is helped by a woman's love and sacrifice; also, he was tall
while the woman protagonist was short. Mizoguchi was criticized for being con
servative, for it was believed that he was affirming loyalty through the sacrifice of
a short person for a tall person! However, apart from Hanayagi's skilful perform
ance, the childish and selfish matinee idol is not an attractive personality. The
woman protagonist (played by Mori Kakuko), though, has great appeal; she
conveys a kind of refined human dignity that cannot be contained in a feudal type
of loyalty. The character of the matinee idol was used in this film only to bring out
the luminescence in the woman.
A Picture ofMadame Yuki
A Picture ofMadame Yuki (1950), Lady Tu (1951) and Lady Musashino (1951) are
generally regarded as films made at a time of slump in Mizoguchi's creativity,
when he revived the shinpa type of matinee idol character in a somewhat simplistic
way. That character had been outmoded since the 1930s.
The cinematography in these three films is quite extraordinary. In A Picture of
Madame Yuki, the scene of the mist-covered, reed-filled lake into which the female
protagonist is about to throw herself, is an exquisite piece of work. Every single
Figure 8 Kogule Michiyo (left) and Kuga Yoshiko (right) in A Picture ofMadame
Yuki (1950), ©Toho Film Co. Ltd.
scene in Lady Yu is like viewing a masterpiece of Japanese painting. Particularly

lovely is the first scene of a pure Japanese miai (introductory meeting between
prospectivebride and groom) in a Japanese-style garden. Lady Musashino, too, has
an utterly captivating scene of two lovers strolling in the countryside. Each of these
well-composed and highly polished scenes is linked by a pure Japanese sensibility,
a picturesque quality and an aesthetic vision that can be seen on the shinpa stage.
This is the story of^ Picture ofMadame Yuki:
Madame Yuki is the daughter of a nobleman, a former Viscount, and the wife of a
playboy, Naoyuki (Yanagi Bijiro) who has been taken in as a son-in-law (muko). The
family's fortunes decline rapidly after the Second World War. When the story opens,
the Viscount has died. Madame Yuki converts the property, a chalet in Atamii, into a
ryokan, and employs her loyal retainers. They lead a good life built on the business
principles of a samurai house. The husband, Nao3mki, is a foolish lord, nibbling away
at what is left of the family fortune. He consorts with friends - his mistress, Ayako
(Hamada Yuriko), a former dancer, and a craven black-market broker, Tachioka
(Yamamura So). Naoyuki and his friends come to this ryokan, throw their weight
around and even urge Madame Yuki to leave the running of the ryokan to them.
In spite of their offensive behaviour,Madame Yukidoes not take a firm stand against
her husband - not because she has been brought up like a princess or is ignorant of the
ways of the world. During the day she is a worldly upper-class woman, but at night,
when her husband clasps her, she is a mass of carnal desire. All she lives for is sexual
fulfilment and entreats her husband not to discard her.
She also has a lover - Kikunaka - a novelist who had helped the Viscount's family
in the past. He is there at her request, works at the ryokan as her advisor and consultant,
is honest and sincere, but will not help with her sexual problems. Then Tachioka
hatches a plot. Kikunaka is drunk and asleep in his room. Tachioka sends a message
asking Madame Yuki to come to Kikunaka's room. Shortly afterwards, he also requests
Naoyuki to come to the same room. Naoyuki sees the two together and believes they
are in an adulterous relationship. It ends with Madame Yuki's suicide. As for Naoyuki,
before he fully understands what is going on, he loses his ryokan to Tachioka, who is
actually having an affair with Ayako.
I believe Kogure Michiyo (as Madame Yuki) was miscast in this film. In Imai
Tadashi's Blue Mountain Range, she had played an ageing geisha. Renowned for
her sexually attractive persona, she was unsuited for a role of a sexually aroused
woman yet with no power to live, a woman so weak as to be mouse-like and dumb
before a violent, oppressive, stupid, husband. Strange it is that a woman who is
energetic and prosperous to begin with is locked in an unending cycle of worry
about her body-mind split even as she presents a contented face to the world. With
a little exaggeration I would call it slightly weird!
Uehara Ken's portrayal of Kikunaka, too, was unconvincing. Madame Yuki
gives clear signals that she wants to be rescued from her husband; yet Kikunaka
remains unmoved and makes no effort to help her. This is completely out of char
acter for a matinee idol.
In Mizoguchi Kenji, The Man and the Art (Mizoguchi Kenji no hito to geijutsu),
Yoda Yoshikata writes that he was toying with a more believable story at the
dramatization stage:
Regarding the structure of the script, I argued heatedly [with Mizoguchi]. I wanted to
use a maid, Hamako, to allow the male protagonist, Kikunaka, to break his relations
with Madame Yuki. But Mizoguchi said, 'What's all this? I just don't understand it.'
I said, 'That is not true, I don't see how you can't understand his feelings, the pain
he must be going through.'
'That's literature, not film.' Even then I did not give up.
I said, 'It is not literature at all. It can be a good play'
'Your thinking that way is going to be a problem. You just don't understand what
people like in films,' he said. This I could understand from people's views on morals
and ethics and I asked him if he felt I wasn't looking at Kikunaka's character sympa
thetically enough. Mizoguchi replied that he felt that people empathised with
Kikunaka's character as played by Uehara Ken and he felt that he could not destroy
their dreams.
The structure was so planned that Kikunaka's worship of Madame Yuki was pla-
tonic and indecisive. In order to overcome this problem, Kikunaka could have gone
away with Hamako (Kuga Yoshiko), the beautiful maid, and a way to separate him
from Madame Yuki would have been provided. Yoda stressed that it would not have
disillusioned Uehara Ken's fans. But Mizoguchi was not convinced. He got a bril
liant performance of a dissolute young woman from Michiyo Kogure, famous for
her roles as a pure and sincere daughter. Two years earlier even Tanaka Kinuyo,
with her pure-as-the-driven-snow image, had played the role of a panpan (prosti
tute).
Mizoguchi's reluctance to dispense with Uehara Ken's pure, matinee idol image
was difficult to understand. Consequently, Uehara did not quite measure up to the
character of a hero in a romance. The film was left vague and ambiguous, with its
indecisive hero and its heroine cutting a poor image. Neither of them evoked any
response from the audience. The other negative characters, though - Naoyuki,
Ayako, and Tachioka - were successfully portrayed in the recognizable Mizoguchi
style.
Perhaps Mizoguchi showed Kikunaka as gentle with Madame Yuki because he
saw himself mirrored in him and because he modelled Madame Yuki on his elder
sister, Suzu. He was handling the tragedy of a powerless, younger brother unable
to help his sister. But, this, naturally, is pure conjecture.
-6-
Art Imitates Life
Mizoguchi's Marriage
In 1927, the actor Nakano Eiji introduced Mizoguchi to Saga Chieko, a dancer in
Osaka, whose real name was Tajima Kane. She hailed from Tochigi and was seven
years younger than Mizoguchi. Saga Chieko was a spirited woman with a great
determination to make her career a success. Mizoguchi fell in love with her and
began going to her house to learn dancing. She had started out as a dancer in Tokyo
and had married an opera singer. After the Kanto earthquake when there was no
work, she moved to Osaka with the help of a gangland boss (oyabun) from Kobe,
leaving her husband behind. He visited her occasionally in Osaka, but relations
between them had turned cold and soon Mizoguchi and she became intimate.
In the summer of the following year, the 'boss' called Mizoguchi, saying he
wanted to talk to him about Chieko. Mizoguchi was apprehensive. In the eyes of
the law he had committed adultery and to complicate matters the husband was also
a yakuza. Mizoguchi consulted a scriptwriter friend, Hatamoto Akiichi, and then
requested Nagata Masakazu, a young man who worked in the general affairs divi
sion of the studio, to act as an intermediary. Nagata Masakazu, a skilful speaker,
was often asked to take visitors around the studio premises, something he did very
well. It also seems that he had links with the Kyoto StVihonyakuza group. Nagata
went to Kobe as Mizoguchi's representative to meet the 'boss'. He convinced him
that Mizoguchi and Chieko were not intimate but were in love. The 'boss' believed
Nagata and agreed to their marriage, which took place on 8 August 1927.
Later, as a producer, Nagata Masakazu set up an independent company, Dai Ichi
Eiga. He also set up Daiei, despite the confused situation created by the forced
amalgamation of film companies during the Second World War. Because of
Nagata's involvement in the events leading to his marriage, Mizoguchi grew to
trust him, and many of his masterpieces were made for the Dai Ichi Eiga and Daiei.
Mizoguchi's wife became an actress with the theatre group, 'Elan Vitale', under
her earlier stage name as a dancer. She was also actively involved in Mizoguchi's
work, always prepared to offer her comments. Though Mizoguchi was occasion
ally unfaithful, his love for his wife was very strong. Chieko was an aggressive and
69
strong-willed woman and there were frequent arguments with the self-centred
Mizoguchi. It appears that she, too, was not always faithful.
Sometime around 1929, Mizoguchi received some money from Matsudaira
Tadamasa. Chieko used it to open a bar, the 'Salon Chie', in Tokyo's Ginza district.
Suzu helped out whenever she could. One evening, when Mizoguchi visited the
bar he saw a number of customers who looked like workers. He left, but returned
later and in a fit of temper threw a frying pan at Chieko, and tore the bar apart. In
most of their fights, Chieko was usually the winner, but on that day it was
Mizoguchi who prevailed, and it resulted in the bar's closure. It appeared to be
something more than just the usual friction between husband and wife, and quite
clearly, it was some deep sorrow in Mizoguchi's heart that had led to this sudden
emotional outburst. The battles between the spouses continued, and perhaps under
their strain, Chieko began to suffer from pleurisy. She was an attractive person
with a soft heart and everyone who knew her remembers her with affection.
The Last Scene of The Downfall of Osen
The Downfall of Osen, made in 1935, is among the handful of Mizoguchi's unsuc
cessful films fhaf has not been discussed at length. The script, based on Izumi
Kyoka's novel, Baishoku kamo nanban, was written by Takashima Tatsunosuke.
The film was set mainly at the turn of the century.
(centre) and Yamada

Art Imitates Life *71
The scene is the railway station of Manseibashi. Trains have stopped because of the rain
and power failure, the platform is crowded and people are milling around. Hata Sokichi
(Natsukawa Daijiro) and Osen (Yamada Isuzu), a young man and woman, are sitting on
a bench in the waiting room, lost in thought. Osen's appearance and the light in her eyes
make for a strange and particularly disturbing image.
The camera shows Hata in a contemplative mood. It pans across the area, showing
Kanda Myojin as it looked about ten years ago.
Actually Manseibashi is easily visible from Kanda Myojin. Among the still extant
films of those years, none has shots that give a sense of the geography of the place;
neither is this scene shot in a comprehensible way. Today we are familiar with all
kinds of flashback techniques and know how to read them. But in those days
viewers were not accustomed to this and to use a pan to indicate a flashback was
very advanced grammar indeed. Today this comes across as a fault for, given the
rhythm of the entire film, it seems like an abrupt leap.
It is a night scene within the precincts of the Kanda Myojin. Sokichi (Natsukawa
Daijiro), a seventeen-year-old in a kimono with very short sleeves, stands in a daze
under a gingko (maidenhair) tree, having just failed in a suicide attempt. Osen, a dis
traught geisha, trying to escape her pursuers, comes running by. Another group of vil
lains charge in from the opposite side to help her. In the melee, Osen sees Sokichi's
failed suicide as a warning to her.
The relationships in this scene are initially unclear and confusing. We do not know
whether it is a flashback and understandably, contemporary critics were critical of it.
But interpreted positively, it can be argued that the writers planned the scene in a way
that would show the strange meeting between the two protagonists. They focused their
energies on conveying as strongly as possible that the meeting was fated.
Later it becomes clear that Osen is a friend of the ruffians. She had fled the geisha
house to join them in the flesh trade but had instead become a moneylender. She has
accidentally come upon Sokichi trying to commit suicide.
Osen takes Sokichi to the ruffians' den and persuades them to let Sokichi stay and to
tutor him.
The robbers try to get the priest to look the other way as they steal a statue of the
Buddha, and it seems that Osen is using her sexual charms on him. The robbers are
rough with Sokichi, needling him till he cries before letting him eat. Sokichi puts up
with their insults because he feels he has found an elder sister in the beautiful Osen.
The basically hard-hearted Osen softens in the face of Sokichi's totally reverential atti
tude and asks him why he tried to commit suicide.
At this point there is a flashback within a flashback as Sokichi narrates his life. He
had left a blind grandmother, his only relative, in the village and gone to Tokyo to study,
with every intention of achieving success in life {shusse). But with no money to buy a
train ticket, he walks along the railway tracks. It's a memorable, desolate scene. With
no money for fees either, he cannot find a school to join and in despair he decides to
commit suicide.
72 • Kenji Mizoguchiand the Art ofJapanese Cinema
Osen is deeply sympathetic and says that she will make sure that he gets to
school.
The titles for Osen are: T think it was the pure heart of your grandmother in the
village that made me stop and protect you like an elder sister and bring you back.'
They used to have such wonderful, unpretentious titles in films those days. The
feeling with which Yamada Isuzu speaks these words, pierces the viewer's heart.
Osen defends Sokichi from the robbers' needling, but unable to bear their persistent
humiliation, he tries to kill himself yet again. Sokichi then takes on the ruffians, but
just when he and Osen declare that it is immaterial whetherthey live or die, policemen
break into the hideout and rescue them. The robbers are arrested and the two can now
start a new life.
They begin livingtogetherlike elder sister and younger brother. Sokichistarts going
to school and Osen pretends she is making money as a seamstress. In reality when
Sokichi is not around, she makes a living as a prostitute.
After some time, Osen is arrested on charges of having stolen money and valuables
from one of her customers. The scene where Sokichi returns from schooljust as she is
being arrested by the police and about to leave the house is one of the most beautiful
in the film.
Without offering an explanation Osen says, T have bought some food (nimono).It is
under the paper in the covered dish and there is ochazuke for tomorrow's breakfast.'
In a rage, Sokichi tears a paper (origami) crane, shouting 'You are my demon.'
Walking out in a daze, he is hit by a rickshaw, in which a teacher from his school
happens to be sitting.
The flashback ends and the scene returns to the Manseibashi station. Sokichi is now
a successful man. He has lived with his schoolteacher, he worked his way through uni
versity, even went abroad to study, and is now a professor in the Department of
Medicine at the Imperial University.
Finallythe train arrives. Again, a crowd of people mill around on the platform. Osen,
the woman who is sitting in the waiting room, suddenly collapses in a faint. Sokichi
comes forward as a doctor to help, pushing through the crowd that has gathered around
her. He is surprised to see that she is his former benefactress. Immediately, he has her
carried to the university hospital. Before she falls in a faint, Osen's face presents a
dreadful sight; it shakes the warm-hearted Sokichi to the core, especially since he
knows that he owes his success to her sacrifice.
The last scene is superb. To quote the script: 'Osen's room in the hospital. The doctor
(Sokichi), is standing, an unkempt figure, in a room for a single patient. Before him is
the mad Osen, who appears like a goddess in a trance. She is making an origami crane.
Suddenly, with a frightening expression, she throws the knife she has been using, but
continues to fold the crane.
Smiling slightly, crying, looking at Osen who has lost her mind, the doctor laments,
forgetting himself, his body and the world; he thinks with sadness of the tragic tran
sience of this world.
Art Imitates Life • 73
'It's me, Sokichi.' Uncontrollable tears stream through his beard as he clings to Osen.
Osen looks blankly at Sokichi. Sokichi reflects sadly on his inability to be of any
help despite all the power of a human being, all the power of a doctor. He breaks down
as he thinks of the inevitable cycle of birth and death, of the purgatory that this world
full of sorrow is. All he can do is weep.
'What ...'
'... who?'
'... they have done this to you ...'
As the seasons pass, a woman's entire life can only end in sorrow. Sokichi laments,
sometimes aloud, sometimes softly.
The film differed somewhat from this script. The 'knife of fate' in the script is the
knife that Sokichi had earlier used in his suicide attempt. In the film he tries to shave
but there is no razor. Apart from these little details, the major change is that Osen stares
in a deranged way at Sokichi's attempts to show sincerity, making no attempt to come
close to him. She shouts, 'Everyone teases my Mune-chan' but shows no sign of recog
nition. There is no 'clinging' or 'lamenting' in the film; Sokichi just stands there paral
ysed, in a daze, staring at the strange behaviour of this mad woman.
The film is complex, but an important section - the crime story of the robbers
and the way in which the characters have been portrayed - is unfortunately trite.
Figure 10 Yamada Isuzu (left) in Sisters ofthe Gion (1936).

From our point of view today, this emotional story amounts to very little and never
transcends the antiquated shinpa tragedy formula. Apart from the startling impact
of the earlier flashback, even the critics must have slept through the film.
This was in 1935.Yetthe previous year masterpieces full of a fresh, modem and
realistic sensibility had been made: Shimazu Yasujiru's My Little Neighbour, Yae-
chan, Itami Mansaku's The Forty-Seven Ronin, Ozu Yasujiro's Tokyo Hotel and
Gosho Heinosuke's The Baggage ofLife. The question is why, until 1936, when he
finally caught up with them through Osaka Elegy and TheSisters ofthe Gion, was
Mizoguchi so immersed in these outdated, emotional stories from the world of the
Meiji?
Many of Mizoguchi's films bear his stamp, works that show his firm grasp of his
basic objective. Many of his films were masterpieces; but there are also works that
are incoherent and inconsistent. I personally feel this is a wonderful film, if just for
the scenes of Sokichi and Osen's first meeting, their parting, their reunion and for
the last scene with the mad Osen.
Discovering the Pose of Redemption
The greatest tragedy in Mizoguchi's life was his wife's insanity, which caused him
deep suffering. This can be vividly seen in the crystallization of an art based on the
Buddhist idea of atonement and prayer in his later films. The Life of Oharu and
Sansho the Bailiff
His wife's illness dated from 1941, but six years earlier Mizoguchi had already
made The Downfall of Osen\ two years earlier, he had made Cascading White
Threads with a similar motif, and TheNihon Bridge six years prior to that. But more
than an abiding motif with Mizoguchihimself, it would be more accurate to say that
this was the leitmotif in the work of the writer Izumi Kyoka, on whose scripts these
three shinpa tragedies were based, and a part of Mizoguchi's heart responded to
Izumi Kyoka's scripts. Mizoguchi may have moved beyond the old-fashioned
shinpa to grand realism, but the shinpa elements retained their vividness and con
tinued to tempt him. They appeared subliminally in the films of his last years.
While Sokichi laments and cries in the script for Osen who has suffered for him
and lost her mind, all he actually does in the film is to stand by her bedside, petri
fied. In Sansho the Bailijf made in 1954, the protagonist, Zushio (Hanayagi
Kisho), after a long life of slavery, goes to Sado to meet his old mother (Tanaka
Kinuyo) from whom he has been separated since childhood. He discovers she is
blind and unable to stand. At first she is suspicious, but once she realizes that it is
her son, she clasps him tightly. This last scene in Sansho the Bailiff is a clear
improvement on the last scene of The Downfall of Osen where Michoguchi was
unable to muster up the sensitivity needed for the scene. He was to do that nine
teen years later, in Sansho the Bailiff
Art Imitates Life • 75
The difference is that unlike Osen, who sacrifices herself for Sokichi, the
mother in Sansho the Bailiff does not do so voluntarily. She is tricked by a slave
trader and sold as a prostitute in Sado. Zushio's younger sister Anju's suicide to
protect him after he is thrown out of the manor {shoen) by Sansho, is the self-sac
rifice of an utterly innocent woman. Zushio's reward for Anju's sacrifice is to look
for and help his mother, whose once high status had been reduced to that of a pros
titute.
That the basis for a man's worldly success was the sacrifice of a woman was par
ticularly true of the Meiji ideology of 'success in life' {risshin shusse). It was con
sidered natural for an older or younger sister to work herself to the bone to be able
to educate the eldest son or brother. Izumi Kyoka's shinpa tragedies were based on
such existing practices. Mizoguchi began by giving form to this tragedy and ended
by immersing himself in its very essence. He crafted the image of a woman who
offers herself as a sacrifice either by disappearing (The Nihon Bridge), committing
suicide (Cascading White Threads) or going mad (The Downfall ofOsen). The cal
lousness with which men use these acts to their own ends is likened to the heady
taste of wine. As examples you have the love scene in Cascading White Threads
and the scene of separation in The Downfall ofOsen. Drunk on this wine, the man
is suddenly placed in a quandary about whether to acknowledge or apologize to the
woman, and is frozen into inaction.
The scene where Zushio first comes close to his mother recalls the moment
where Osen comes close to Sokichi. Osen sends the ruffians packing, recalling her
own childhood, trying to drive away the fear she has of the men who had turned
her into a prostitute, used her, and had now returned to mock her. In Sansho the
Bailiff Zushio, who sees in his father's shrine the precious statue of the Buddha as
proof of his high status, begins to accept this only when he actually touches it, and
then he clasps it tightly. It's a superb build-up of the mood by Tanaka Kinuyo and
Hanayagi Kisho as they move tentatively towards each other on the beach and
embrace - a rare and finely polished performance.
Mizoguchi found a way to depict love scenes through Buddhism. In art, the dis
covery of a particular pose or form is the same as discovering its meaning.
Precisely because art is a ceaseless discovery of form, discovering the spirit of the
form is an act of creation. If the last scene in Sansho the Bailiff is, imbued with
such meaning for us, for Mizoguchi it must have been a moment of beatitude. And
for me, it was a moment of spiritual awakening, a reflection of Mizoguchi's under
standing.
What effect did Mizoguchi's wife's insanity have on his films? As I have stated
before, the motif that links most of his later films is the invocation of woman; an
invocation that includes the suggestion of an apology because she is sacred and
because of what she endures for the man. We are led to feel that this must surely
have had some connection with his wife's illness. In fact, this motif first appeared
in Mizoguchi's films well before his wife fell ill and he had examined it repeatedly.
Indeed, Izumi Kyoka, whose novels Mizoguchi used, ad done likewise even earlier.
I recall Oscar Wilde' famous words, 'It's not art that imitates life, it is nature that
imitates art.' In Mizoguchi's case, I feel it was not his life that provided the model
for his art but rather his art that was the model for his life, an art that transcended
his personal vision of life. He based his tragedies on the idea that the fundamental
contradiction in society was the inequality of the man-woman relationship. This
was expressed most acutely in the evils of the Meiji ideology which sought
'success in life' for men. If this premise were to be accepted, we could perhaps
agree that Mizoguchi's life was a kind of martyrdom. Japanese modernization
inevitably gave rise to a certain form of tragedy, and Mizoguchi used Izumi
Kyoka's works as a sort of filter to concentrate on this tragedy and make it part of
his own life. This he achieved in his later years with a series of graceful prayers of
devotion to a sacred sacrifice.
-7-
Three Traditional Art Films (Geidomono)
War and the Traditional Arts
As Japan's war against China entered its climactic phase in 1937, the film world
faced some severe pressures. Government policy demanded that the industry
produce films in active support of the war. Not only were socially critical 'realistic'
films suppressed, even romances were regarded as irrelevant. Mizoguchi, whose
works revealed the essence of a male-dominated society from the perspective of
the woman, could no longer make the kind of films he wanted to. In compliance
with the government's demands, he did churn out one poor and uncontroversial
propaganda film. The Song of the Camp (1938). But placed in a difficult situation
for the duration of the war, he shifted to making geidomono, a film genre that used
Japanese traditional arts.
Geidomono are films where the protagonist, male or female, is a practitioner of
one of the traditional Japanese arts such as kabuki, puppet theatre (bimraku), or
traditional dance. They stress the rigour of the practice, but add that practice alone
is not enough to understand the essence of the art; it is equally vital to face the dif
ficulties of life, build character and sacrifice individual happiness for art. The
world of traditional Japanese arts was mostly feudal, monopolizd for generations
by a few leading families. Because of the 'follies of youth', the protagonists ofgei
domono films would, at times, make attempts to oppose this feudal structure; this
would only result in their exclusion and in the denial of opportunities given to
those who obeyed. The hardships they faced would strengthen their character in a
way that enabled them to help maintain the feudal order. Only then would they be
allowed to return as favoured carriers of the tradition.
The fixed form of the geidomono did not conflict with government strictures of
self-sacrifice, loyalty to the state and need to practise techniques to win a war. The
government did not so much encourage these films as merely tolerate them. Even
film-makers who were not active supporters of the war, did not see them as directly
pro-war, although the films did represent a compromise with and a subordination
to a feudal ethic. Directors could continue to function as artists without damaging
their sensibilities. To film-makers, who had till then used romance as a subject, the
geidomono genre offered one of the few possibilities where romantic themes were
permitted, albeit in the context of a feudal ethic, where the woman would sacrifice
77
herself for the man, and the man, on the basis of the woman's sacrifice, would go
on to develop his art. Free love was considered an expression of American or
English ideology and in most cases not permitted by the censors. Geidomono film
makers concentrated on depicting love, not war. Mizoguchi's three geidomono
films, as they are referred to, are The Story ofthe Late Chrysanthemums (1939), A
Woman of Osaka (1940) and The Life ofan Actor (1941).
The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums
The Story of the Late Chiysanthemums is a tragedy, a tragedy that lies not in the
unfulfilled love between a handsome man and a beautiful woman, but in the lack
of any opposition by the woman to blatant social discrimination. In fact, she actu
ally seems to be supporting it. The story's tragic irony lies in its emotional struc
ture that fully supports a discriminatory and class-conscious society. That in such
a society the most discriminated against are often the staunchest supporters of
such practices is an ironic but universal truth. But there will come a time when
such relationships will be reversed, and it will be possible to distinguish, on the
basis of will or intention, between those who oppose and those who just follow.
Set in a feudal society dominated by a few reputed families at the end of the
nineteenth century, this is the story of kabuki performers and their world of traditional
Japanese arts. Over generations, performers from these influential families have
monopolized important roles. Onoe Kikugoro, a popular and talented member of a
fifth-generation kabuki family, is one of the stars who dominates this world. His
adopted son, Kikunosuke, is expected to carry forward the name, in the sixth genera
tion. Although Kikunosuke has not yet matured as a performer, he is quickly confirmed
as the successor. Thereafter, he seems to lose touch with reality. He spends his time dal
lying with a geisha and neglecting his art but, aware of the importance of his position,
no one remonstrates with him. Only Otoku, a maid employed to look after an infant in
the Onoe household, criticizes him openly, telling him that he has yet not matured as a
performer and should work harder. Kikunosuke is struck by her candour and falls in
love with her. Rumours fly around about their love. Kikunosuke's wife sacks Otoku
from her job, and his father, Kikugoro, forbids him from seeing her. Otoku rues her
lower social position; by loving Kikunosuke she has caused him a great deal of trouble.
Kikunosuke refuses to listen to his adopted parents and is thrown out of the Onoe
house. No one gives him work in kabuki in Tokyo. He seeks help from Onoe Tamizo,
a powerful figure in the kabuki world in Osaka. Tamizo gives him a role. The Osaka
audience, seeing his immature performance, laughs at him, and hangs on to retain his
role only because of his patron. Otoku arrives from Tokyo and the two begin leading
an impoverished life as husband and wife. One day Onoe Tamizo dies and Kikunosuke
can no longer get a role on the Osaka stage. Left with no alternative he joins a group
that tours villages. Kikunosuke is now a defeated man, but with Otoku's encourage
ment and because of his personal trials and tribulations, his art improves.
Three Traditional Art Films (Gsidomono) • 79
During the tour, the troupe goes bankrupt and is disbanded. Kikunosuke and Otoku
hear that another troupe has come to neighbouring Nagoya from Tokyo. Otoku requests
them for a role for Kikunosuke. Meanwhile, audiences have begun applauding
Kikunosuke's acting skills. The actors ask Onoe Kikugoro to allow Kikunosuke to
come back so that he can perform in Tokyo. There is a condition though - Kikunosuke
must part from Otoku. She is the only one to be informed of this. As the delighted
Kikunosuke boards the train to Tokyo, Otoku quietly leaves for Osaka and returns to
the poor dwelling they had shared in their poverty-stricken days.
Kikunosuke is enraged when he realizes that he has been tricked into separation
from Otoku. But he soon settles down and becomes a popular actor in Tokyo.
Some years later when the Tokyo Ichiza group goes to Osaka for a performance,
Kikunosuke, as the popular star, is feted on the night before the opening. Cheering
crowds greet him as he is taken along a canal in a boat decorated with lanterns. While
these celebrations are taking place, the landlord of the house that they had lived in
comes to tell him that Otoku is dying. BOkunosuke rushes to her bedside to inform her
that Kikugoro has agreed to their formal wedding. With these encouraging words he
returns to the boat. Otoku dies with the voices ofthe cheering crowed ringing in her ears.
The film has a number of scenes that do not figure either in the original work or
in the script. They appear to have been put together without much thought. There
Figure 11 Mori Kakuko (left) and Hanayagi Syotaro in The Story of the Late
Chrysanthemums (1938).
is one very powerful scene, however, that makes us pause. After Otoku decides to
leave for Osaka, she returns to the house where the two had once lived. She enters
the dark premises quietly, surprising the daughter of the house who asks, 'Where
is Kikunosuke?' and Otoku replies that there is no point in living with a man like
him.
The response can be interpreted as one way of dealing with defeat - a way to
tell oneself that the decision to leave was one's own. However, there is somewhere
nestling within her a deeper anger that goes beyond mere sentimental gloss.
Otoku had criticized Kikunosuke's art in all honesty and it had proved to be a
source of inspiration for him. For this, she had been reviled as evil, and as a trou
blemaker out to grab the famous fifth generation kabuki house. For the honest if
poor Otoku, this was an insult to her integrity. At a time when the idea of funda
mental human rights had not been formulated, the only way to expunge the insult
lay in demonstrating that her only desire was to encourage Kikunosuke to improve
his performance. And so she leaves without shedding a single tear, carrying herself
in a way that seems to ask 'Is this all right? Does this prove my sincerity?' She
makes no attempt to reason. Yet, a part of her clearly wonders what sort of man
Kikunosuke is and tries to dismiss him from her life.
On the surface, the film is a tale of self-sacrifice and unrequited love. On a
deeper level, it uses the plot to extol the victory of a woman defending her human
dignity. No position is taken on the protagonist Kikunosuke or his family. The
story's structure inevitably results in Otoku's suppression; she is treated disdain
fully because of her status. The story reaffirms an essentially male-dominated,
class-divided society, and its logic is to strengthen this. Herein lies its tragic irony.
Mizoguchi's film is not about love, it is about will, though to what degree this was
consciously articulated is not clear. According to the cast and crew, and as far as I
personally know, neither the stage version of The Story of the Late
Chrysanthemums, nor the later film version, went beyond the story of a failed love
affair. It is only in Mizoguchi's version that we see the female protagonist fired
with intensity, her generous spirit ill matched with the ambitious man trying to
succeed in the world.
Mizoguchi's films show a woman's devotion as the basis of a man's success as
he complacently waits for happiness to come his way. Compared to the female pro
tagonist who, by the end, has destroyed herself, the male protagonist's happiness
comes across as skewed and out of place. Highlighting the male ego could some
times be mistaken for Mizoguchi's personal support of a patriarchal society. In
films such as The Nihon Bridge, the protagonist does show an appreciation of, and
respect for, the woman for her sacrifice, and even surrenders his elite status; in
Cascading White Threads, he honours the woman who commits a crime for him by
committing suicide himself; and in The Downfall of Osen, the protagonist is
deeply anguished, because the woman has lost her sanity because of him. On the
other hand, films such as Oyuki, the Madonna, Lady Musashino, The Life of
Three Traditional Art Films (GQidomono) • 81
Oharu, Tales of Ugetsu, The Woman in the Rumour, Princess Yang Kwei-fei and
others have many a male character whose happiness is predicated on the woman's
sacrifice. One of the best expressions of this is Kikunosuke in The Story ofthe Late
Chrysanthemums.
Was Mizoguchi better disposed towards men? He certainly seemed more for
giving of them. But for all their apparent happiness they are actually being pun
ished and come across as almost moronic in their contentment; the women, on the
other hand, seem to shine with innate goodness. Mizoguchi is often critical of male
egoism in his films, and Osaka Elegy, Sisters ofthe Gion, Women ofthe Night, My
Love Burns and The Life of Oharu demonstrate this clearly.
As Japan modernized from the Meiji period onwards, it was caught up in a
'success in life' boom unique in world history. Even a small farmer, it was felt,
could succeed and become a major force in the development of the country if he
worked hard and studied well. Many examples can be cited of young men from
poor families who were determined to make it. Izumi Kyoka uses this facet of
Japan's modernization in his melodramatic novels. Mizoguchi did so too, but
viewed it as modern Japan's fundamental crime, and therefore reshaped it and gave
it a new perspective. He developed the idea in three stages: first, he compared a
woman's devotion and a man's crime; second, he showed a woman becoming aware
of the man's egoism and resisting it; and third, he showed a supposedly happy man
absorbed in a woman's devotion.
What Mizoguchi ultimately wanted was to reach a stage when the woman can
forget the past and excuse the man. Such examples can be found in his work: the
religious image at the end of The Life ofOharu; the wife who becomes a spirit and
waits for her husband and child in Tales of Ugetsu; the blind mother who clasps
her son in Sansho the Bailiff; and the last scene in A Storyfrom Chikarnatsu, where
the female protagonist smiles as she goes with her lover to the execution ground.
This, as I see it, was Mizoguchi's orientation in his last years. He was beginning to
see a state of enlightenment where the woman would accept the man.
A Woman of Osaka
The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums glamorizes a woman's ability to face

trouble, but in reality shows the position of women in a feudal society. In the
absence of the very notion of equality between the sexes, women could not 'rea
sonably' oppose male domination. We cannot, therefore, use this argument to claim
that they glamorized the nobility of their suffering. Women of a bygone era had a
will of their own. The theme of endurance and suffering in The Story of the Late
Chrysanthemums continues and surfaces more emphatically in A Woman ofOsaka.
Here, too, Mizoguchi depicts women in the traditional world of the arts. The men
want to protect them, but what links these female protagonists is their self-assertion.
A Woman of Osaka is the story of the Bunrakuza, a puppet theatre {bunraku)

group in Osaka, and is based on the famous puppet play, Tsubosaka Reikenki
(Miracle Stories).
Ochika, the female protagonist, played by Tanaka Kinuyo, is the well-educated, lov
ingly brought up daughter of a man who runs a house for meeting with a geisha
(machiai) near the Matsushima red-light district in Osaka. She looks after Toyosawa
Danpei (Bando Kotaro), a famous samisen (three-stringed Japanese instrument) player
in bunrakii. One day, as she listens to him perform, he collapses. He is a widower, and
unable to take care of himself. She nurses him, and soon becomes his wife. Though
determined to help him excel in his art, she ends up housebound, caring for the home.
When Koshiji, the main narrator who performs with Danpei, learns that he has
married the cultivated Ochika, he is very happy. His wife, Otaka (Umemura Yoko),
however, is strongly against the marriage. She feels that since Danpei's samisen has to
follow her husband's lead, and since Koshiji is more popular and better paid, he should
assume the leadership of the theatre group. This creates an awkward situation because
Danpei's wife, Ochika, is both rich and educated. Otaka has a young helper, Okuni
(Nakamura Yoshiko), a poor and gentle woman, who has always looked up to her, and
who has come with the aim of helping Danpei in his performance. Ochika is aware that
Otaka has brought Okuni to help Danpei, but she pretends not to know anything about
it. Instead, she looks after Danpei herself and ultimately marries him.
Koshiji and Danpei, a famous duo, have a cordial personal relationship. But relations
between their wives steadily worsen. Koshiji's voice is mellifluous, his narration
skilful. When reminded of this, the ever-sensitive Danpei feels disheartened. He tries
to take the lead with his samisen. Otaka sees this as an attempt to ruin Koshiji's
sonorous voice, and complains hysterically to Ochika. Not to be outdone, Ochika
retorts that Danpei is right in what he is doing. Otaka is silent but Koshiji complains to
the head of their group {tayu).
However, complaints about fellow members are not well regarded. Koshiji's co-per
formers ask him to explain why he had spoken privately to the head of their group.
Such developments can break up the group, they argue. But fissures have already been
created; Danpei and Ochika join a breakaway group and leave with it to tour the
provinces.
As fans come to know that it was arguments between the wives that led to the break
up of the popular duo, Ochika finds herself much maligned. People learn that she has
ousted Okuni to become Danpei's wife, and they see her as a stubborn woman. She
does try to stick to her convictions, but the plain fact is that Koshiji is popular.
Okuni is a gentle uncomplaining sort. Bunkichi (Takada Kokichi), a young, aspiring
yakuza working in the puppet theatre, is sympathetic to her. He tries to extort money
from Ochika to help Okuni, saying she is facing difficult days. Bunkichi is beaten up
by some neighbourhood toughs and gradually loses his eyesight. Okuni feels respon
sible and decides to sacrifice her life for him.
Ochika tours with Danpei, helping him to rebuild himself. But the travelling theatre
does not do well. Ochika then meets Koshiji and suggests that he collaborate with
Three Traditional Art Films (GQidomono) • 83
Danpei once again.Shealso tries to get Okunito lookafter Haruko, the main actorwith
whom Danpei had teamedup. Meanwhile, Koshiji sees the originalstory of Tsubosaka
Reikenki. It is agreed that Ochika will write the script and Danpei will create the music
for the play. However Danpei, who has so far supported Ochika in everythingshe has
done, and had rarely bothered about anything but his art, suddenly explodes with rage
and tells her to return to her parents' home.
Danpei commendsOkuni's kindness (ninjo) in helping Bunkichiwho is slowlygoing
blind,adding that Haruko, too, is workinghard performing with him. He says that if he
were to return to Koshiji, then Haruko would be left all alone. Similarly, if Okuni were
persuaded to look after Haruko, Bunkichi would be left on his own. 'You are not the
woman,' he says to Ochika, 'who can write the script for Tsubosaka Reikenki, the story
of a faithful woman who looks after a blind man.'
Ochika leaves Danpei and returns to Osaka. Convinced that she has given up every
thing for her husband's art, she cannot understand his reaction. Nor can she reconcile
herself to the way she is treated. But when she goes to Okuni's poor house, she sees
Okuni, her eyes streaming with tears, encouraging the blind Bunkichi to work as a pup
peteer; she finally understands the meaning of ninjo and rewrites the script of
Tsubosaka Reikenki.
Danpei reads the script.The first performance of this great masterpiece is held with
Haruko (once again played by Osumi, the main actor) and Bunkichi handling the
puppets.
Through the stories of Ochika, Otaka and Okuni, and the different paths that they
take, A Woman ofOsaka depicts the lives of women who are closely linked to their
husbands' work.
Otaka is the kind of woman we are familiar with. Because of her partial under
standingof her husband's art, she forces him towards success and uses his position
to raise herself above those around her.
Okuni is willing to sacrifice herself for her husband, but since she lacks a strong
sense of self, she is fated to follow others. Yet she is a wise woman, making the
best of what fate offers. If her husband works well, she carries on without com
plaining. Whenever necessary, she works herself to the bone to help him - an ideal
woman for a weak, self-serving man, in fact, just the kind of woman who is often
friends with handsome men in real life.
Ochika, on the other hand has the ability, the charm and the self-assurance to do
a job well when needed. But she is the wife of a samisen player, one of the main
players in the puppet theatre. People expect her to be modest, to show a greater
understanding of her position, but she rejects this societal expectation and acts as
she feels she must. From being a wife, she becomes her husband's manager, gov
erning his relations with people on the basis of what is good for him.
Unfortunately, if a man does this in his own interest, it is seen as rational, but in a
woman it is seen as contradicting the principles of love {ninjo). Under the circum
stances, do we judge men and women on a par, or do we expect an emotional
'high-mindedness' from women? Perhaps this is something women have to deter

mine for themselves without any interference from men.
Mizoguchi's high-strung, neurotic wife believed she was actively helping her
husband in his work. She would criticize his films and deal with his acolytes.
Notwithstanding their fights, Mizoguchi relied on her. She lost her mental balance
a year after ^ WomanofOsaka was made. It is said that she wrote the words 'I have
written Mizoguchi's script' in large letters, one letter on each page. Ochika's char
acter appears to be inseparable from Mizoguchi's own memories, or the memories
of someone like him, someone who relies deeply on a woman despite the embar
rassment she causes him. Perhaps Mizoguchi saw himself as a 'wonderful' man -
not like Koshiji, who followed his wife, but like Danpei, who by and large allowed
his wife to exercise her individuality, but controlled it when it mattered.
Sadly, the print of A Woman of Osaka has been lost, but from Tanaka Kinuyo's
many fans who have written about her tremendous performance as Ochika, we
know that she brought to her role the competitive spirit and the love of a woman
with a frightening and passionate intensity.
-8-
A Difficult Woman
Defeat and Democracy: The Victory of Women
Mizoguchi was neither an active supporter of the war, nor an opponent of govern
ment policies. It is said that he immersed himself in geidomono (whose themes
were self- suppression and self-sacrifice for the glory of Japanese tradition) in
order to distance himself from the war. In some ways, then, geidomono did support
.ill:
Figure 12 Mizoguchi Kenji in his capacity as the President of the Association of

Japanese Film Directors, and as Film Commissioner of the Cabinet, at a ceremony
held by the Japanese Goveriunent in 1940.
nationalism {kokusuishiigi). This may have been why the Army, which actually
controlled film production, overlooked Mizoguchi's geidomono, although
Mizoguchi, I believe, tried to ignore the fact that his geidomono films did help in
nationalist propaganda.
Finally, towards the end of the war, Mizoguchi made a geidomono film. The
Sword (based on the script by Kawaguchi Matsutaro), that was openly in support
of the war effort. Is this what one expected of the master? Interestingly, among all
his extant films, this is the worst in terms of quality of workmanship. Clearly,
Mizoguchi had given up on its production, and one is left with the feeling that The
Sword would inevitably be a bad film.
Mizoguchi could not have made an artistically interesting theme if he was
forced to compromise in any way. During the war the Japanese sword, said to
Figure 13 Yamada Isuzu in The Sword (1945).

A Difficult Woman • 87
contain the spirit of a samurai, was made into a symbol of militarism, while in
popular novels the swordsmith was portrayed as the craftsman of the spirit of
nationalism. The film took this popular symbolism and transformed it into one in
whieh the swordsmith forges into the sword the higher spirit of loyalty to the
Emperor, and also turns it into a valuable contribution to nationalism. However,
Mizoguchi's insincerity was evident even while the film was being made.
And yet The Sword holds a special place in the history of film. It is valuable for
the number of shinpa stars who acted in it. All the same, it is a minor work, shown
in the last days of the war when no one went to see films anyway. 'Nationalistic'
or not, it had little impact, as that kind of nationalism had died out. After Japan's
defeat, Mizoguchi emerged as one of the few directors who had extended little
support to the war effort. This should have stood him in good stead in the post-war
period, but as it happened, it did not. He was now the President of the Association
of Japanese Film Directors and Film Commissioner of the Cabinet, and was happy
to be in these positions of honour. I believe most Japanese at that time had a similar
approach, and none of the directors thought about the kind of films they would
make once the war was over.
After its defeat in the Second World War, Japan was occupied by the American
Army. Film production was brought under its control because cinema was seen as
one of the best means of reforming Japanese thinking. The US occupation forces
Figure 14 Kuwano Michiko (left), Tanaka Kinuyo (centre) and Miura Mitsuko (in
front of Tanaka) in The Victory of Women (1946).
asked for films that would educate the people in democracy - films calling for the
liberation of women, for instance, or films critical of militarism and the feudal
system.
Mizoguchi's first post-war film. The Victoryof Women, had the democratization
of the judiciary as its theme. It was released in April 1946, a year after Japan's
defeat.
A lawyer, Hosokawa Hiroko (played by Tanaka Kinuyo), used to plead in court for the
liberation of women. In the difficult, impoverished post-war years she can barely eke
out a living. Asakura Moto (played by Miura Mitsuko) comes to her house to sell meat.
It turns out that Moto, who looks down and out, was Hiroko's school friend. Moto is in
great trouble. She had been the sole bread-winner, moving around with her baby while
her unemployed husband lay ill at home. When her husband had died, she had killed
her child in a fit of madness. Moto now persuades Hiroko to become her lawyer.
Hiroko's elder brother-in-law, Kono (Matsumoto Kappei), is a public prosecutor and a
shrewd man. During the war, he had sent many democrats to jail for thought crimes
{shiso kenji). Among them was Hiroko's lover,Yamaoka (Tokudaiji Shin), a university
professor who had finally been released but is now ill. He dies while Hiroko is acting
as Moto's lawyer.
The lawyers' association demands that Kono, a typical reactionary public prosecutor,
be removed from office. Hiroko's confrontation with him during Moto's trial becomes
the focus of interest. Kono urges Hiroko through his wife, Michiko (Kuwano Michiko),
Hiroko's elder sister, to agree to a compromise, pointing out that she is obliged to him
as he had helped her become a lawyer. Hiroko rejects the proposal outright. Kono
argues against Moto, saying that a woman who rejects her traditional duties is guilty of
a grave misdemeanour. He recommends that she be given a five-year disciplinary pun
ishment. Hiroko disputes this, arguing that Japanese women have all along led a life of
subservience to men and been deprived of self-respect in a feudal society. Little
wonder, then, that Moto had lost her mental balance when her husband died. She pleads
that Moto be declared innocent.
The drama unfolds in this old-fashioned way. The structure of the plot itself - the
public prosecutor and lawyer as brother and sister-in-law, and the lawyer's grudge
against her brother-in-law - is very much in the nature of a shinpa tragedy, not
unlike the old Cascading White Threads. The stereotyped tawdriness of every char
acter is enough to take your breath away. Most disturbing of all is Moto's helpless
state. In sharp contrast Hiroko comes across as a natural leader who articulates the
reasons why women must be liberated. Moto merely accepts Hiroko's assertions
that she is not responsible for the crime, she slumps dejectedly and thanks Hiroko
by prostrating herself before her in the courtroom.
It is strange to see the way the film's intellectual elite - Hiroko and the univer
sity professor - is shown teaching the ignorant and the powerless the concept of
democracy, without any kind of debate. The Victory of Women was considered an
A Difficult Woman « 89
anachronistic failure even during its time, and critics like Uryu Tadao wrote about
it derisively. It certainly does not show the contemporary level of understanding of
democracy in Japan. The same format can be seen in Kurosawa Akira's No Regrets
for Our Youth and Kinoshita Keisuke's Morning for the Osone Family. All these
films end with the 'intellectual' supporters of democracy (who had been perse
cuted during the war), emerging as shining leaders of the people. They project
huge, unreasonable expectations from learning, intelligence and ideology. Today,
when respect for university professors and progressive intellectuals has declined,
it is difficult to re-evaluate them. They appear to ask for a responsible surrender to
others. And yet they contain many things - such as the painful sensitivity of youth
in No Regretsfor Our Youth - that are true. I, for one, remember feeling that I too
wanted to become the sort of intellectual they described.
A Difficult Woman and an Unrepentant Man - My Love Burns
In 1949 Mizoguchi made another typical post-war film to enlighten people about
democracy. My Love Burns was based on the biography of Fukuda Eiko, a woman
activist in the people's rights movement during the Meiji period. I have a feeling
this film left a deep impression on my countrymen when it was first released,
although it is criticized today. I would be interested to know what kind of reaction
it would evoke if it were to be re-evaluated even twenty years on. However, unlike
The Victory of Women, and because it was made four years after the war,
Mizoguchi had time to reflect. The result was brilliant. The fact that it was set in
the Meiji period, a world that Mizoguchi could handle with the self-assurance of a
puppeteer manipulating a puppet, made it that much easier. However, his ideas of
freedom and people's rights were still based on the notion that a few intelligent
members of society could teach the ignorant masses.
Hirayama Eiko, played by Tanaka Kinuyo, leaves Okayama in 1879 for Tokyo. There
she throws herself into the people's rights movement, placing her trust initially in
Hayase, a fellow activist from her home town. But when she learns that he is a gov
ernment spy she leaves him. Later she befriends Oi Kentaro, a leader of the movement.
During one of the protest movements at the Chichibu Spinning Mills, both are sent to
jail. Here, Eiko comes across a woman worker, Chiyo (Mito Mitsuko), who was a
tenant farmer for her own family.
When they leavejail, Eiko and Oi set up home together and employ Chiyo as a maid.
Some years later, Oi stands for elections and becomes a member of the Imperial Diet.
However, Eiko realizes that Oi has a relationship with Chiyo. Oi refuses to acknowl
edge any error on his part. All he says is that Chiyo is his mistress and that is all there
is to it. Eiko is furious and leaves Oi to return to Okayama. The film ends with a scene
in the train with Chiyo lovingly following Eiko back.
The film uses a political movement as part of the action, but rarely grapples with
politics, and herein lies its weakness. The opposition movement is not dealt with,
and the people's rights movement is simplistically shown as good. Apart from
Hayase's activities as a spy, the movement's ideology, structure, or even the weak
ness of human nature are hardly tackled, and we are left with the impression that
the leaders are in a bind because their orders are ignored by the ignorant.
As a young boy, I simply worshipped the heroine, but the adults around me who
watched the film were not moved. Today I can see why. The film must have struck
them as little more than sloganeering. Research on the people's rights movement
was, at that time, limited. It was only in the 1960s that theatre, which used polit
ical movements as part of its subject matter, moved to a more conscious level, and
films such as Oshima Nagisa's Night and Fog in Japan, or plays such as Fukuda
Yoshiyuki's Oppekepe (a popular Meiji period song) and Hanada Kiyoteru's
Memories of the Explosion, made earlier works seem naive in comparison.
No matter how innocent My Love Burns appears today, it is typically Mizoguchi,
an indictment of masculinity and showing a distrust of men. The men who sur
round the passionate heroine are all shameful specimens, not worth helping; the
heroine's task is to shatter the illusions about male authority. This is an enduring
motif through all of Mizoguchi's work, and is obvious in Osaka Elegy as well.
Immature as a political film, Osaka Elegy is, on this one point, full of spirit.
Figure 15 Tanaka Kinuyo (left) and Miyake Kuniko in My LoveBurns (1949).

Mizoguchi could not deal seriously with democracy as a political ideology, and
was determined never to make such political films again. But the theme of women
who, despite repeated mental and physical abuse, disillusionment and frustration,
do not collapse but achieve a kind of sainthood, becomes clearer in Mizoguchi's
later films.
The same year that My Love Burns was made, Imai Tadashi, then still a new-
wave director, released the critically acclaimed The Blue Mountain Range. The two
films are extremely sensitive and similar as they both deal with the problem of
democracy and man-woman relationships.
The Blue Mountain Range is a story about a huge controversy in a girls' school
over an ordinary love letter. A progressive teacher gently chides a group of young
girls for the uproar they have created and for behaving like 'little sisters-in-law'.
She is ostracized by the local city bosses for her permissive attitude. The school
doctor and some spirited former students of the high school get together to help
the teacher against the bosses.
Here again, the people who are trying to democratize the girls' school are not
the students, teachers or the families, but an intellectual lady teacher (Kara
Setsuko) from Tokyo, local intellectuals (the school doctor) and budding young
intellectuals (the former students of the high school). The pattern remains the
same: the local bosses are defeated by an alliance of progressive, cultured people
who enlighten the ignorant schoolgirls. But within this pattern, a number of pro
gressive ideas are advanced. For one, the very correct lady teacher is made the
leader in the fight for democracy by the school doctor, who thinks he is too worldly
to do it himself; he is backed by the students who are willing to expose the plans
of the local bosses. To be able to make a real difference, the snobbish students will
have to get their hands dirty, and the lady teacher will represent the call for justice
and honour. This division of labour is skilfully executed in the form of a comedy,
and the image of true democracy makes an appearance for the first time in popular
post-war sensibility.
Democracy as an idea that gives the weak strength is acceptable within these tra
ditional sensibilities. Since ancient times, it has been expressed in a popular saying
which says that when respect is given to parents and to children there is no embar
rassment in a petticoat government.
The theme that women were the vectors of democracy became the leitmotif of
films made during the Occupation, particularly between the years 1944 and 1950.
Kinoshita Keisuke's Morningfor the Osone Family {\9A6) reaches its climax when
a widow, whose family is ruined during the war, opposes her younger brother-in-
law, a senior officer, with all her strength once the war is over. In Kurosawa Akira's
No Regrets for Our Youth, also made in 1946, the wife of an anti-war activist, who
is sentencedto death as a spy, managesto survivethe war in a village although she
has to face terrible persecution. After the war he becomes a leading figure in
spreading democracy in the rural areas. In both these films the man represents
authority and power. The heroine's confrontation and exposure of the evils inherent
in power are used to praise the political awareness of women.
I now detect something in these films that I had overlooked when they were first
released. Their heroines come from upper-class families. The widow in Morning
for the Osone Family has a bourgeois (probably business) background; she is
modern in her outlook and fond of a Western lifestyle. Her younger brother-in-law,
an army officer, accuses her of goading her husband and children to become lib
erals, of wanting to split the family unit. In No Regrets for Our Youth, the heroine
is the daughter of a liberal, top-ranking, university professor. The ideological
underpinning that gives her the strength to resist is shown to have been cultivated
in the highly-prized bourgeois atmosphere of the family. What this means is that
after the war, when people working in film thought of a 'democratic atmosphere',
the first thing that came to their mind was either the bourgeois business class or a
university professor's family. The audience, too, accepted this categorization since
it was widely believed that this intellectual struggle was being fought elsewhere
and had no connection with common people.
At a deeper level, democracy was commonly understood to mean that men had
to ask women for forgiveness, and this made them angry. In Kurosawa Akira's
Wonderful Sunday, an impecunious young man lands himself in trouble on his very
first date and is frustrated in his attempts to make love to his fiance. He is turned
down and begs forgiveness. Ozu Yasujiro's The Hen in the Wind is about a demo
bilized husband who, when the war is over, agonizes over the fact that he knows
his wife has become a prostitute because of the problems she faced while he was
away. But he finally accepts the situation.
In terms of form, it is ultimately the husband who forgives his 'erring' wife. But
the image projected is that of a man who begins by accusing her unfairly and is
then filled with remorse. In Yoshimura Kosaburo's The Day Our Lives Brightened,
a young ex-army officerjoins a gang after the war and gets involved in a spate of
crimes. He meets a young woman, the daughter of a senior statesman he had assas
sinated. She is now a cabaret singer. It is by begging her forgiveness that he finally
turns a new leaf.
'All the People Repent' (Ichioku so zange), the servile-sounding slogan used by
bureaucrats to subdue citizens before Japan's defeat, aroused sharp resentment.
Some people even called it strange. But from what I remember, at least in cinema,
the idea that people are born again from a sense of true repentance for some earlier
wrongdoing was widely shared. Many films had men making genuine and heart
felt atonements to women. The question is: were there no films before or after this
period on this theme? In the very successful traditional melodrama What's Your
Name? we have an unusual scene of Sada Keiji, hanging his head in front of Kishi
Keiko, one of the few films to show man-woman relationships this way.
For all that, no film had a truly deserving protagonist. The only exception that
comes to my mind is a film about a mother: TheMother Caught in a Storm (1952)
by Saeki Kiyoshi, based on the script by Yasumi Toshio. A young army officer,
involved in the Nanjing massacre, returns to Japan. He acknowledges his guilt for
his crime and returns to China to seek punishment, leaving his mother to face the
anguish. This is perhaps the only film to recognize that true atonement demands
something more than a mere acknowledgement of guilt. Most other films in which
the man asks for forgiveness were based on a popular idea of sexuality and of vul
nerable women who generously accepted the man's tears. This, in a sense, is what
we can call the 'family version of democracy from above'.
Seen from this perspective. The Victory of Women and My Love Burns were
immature and idealistic failures, but they are also unique, particularly the latter. We
have two films here in which the man never repents and the woman never forgives.
In The Victory of Women, just as the man is about to apologize, the prosecutor (that
symbol of male authority), changes his mind and becomes coercive. In My Love
Burns the men never accept their wrongdoing even when their crime is discovered,
and the woman is left with no choice but to fight. This was a recurrent theme with
Mizoguchi, even before the war. Later he would paint the miserable condition of
women in his realistic films and idolize them in his aesthetic ones. His path was
based on two principles: a realistic perspective and the demands of desire.
Five Women Around Utamaro (1946) shows the Edo period ukiyoe painter,
Utamaro (Bando Minosuke) as a people's artist who paints erotic pictures of beau
tiful women and fights suppression by the authorities. This was an eminently suit
able subject for Mizoguchi and he depicted the world of Edo with great richness.
Yet it proved to be a poor film.
The post-war film The Love of Sumako the Actress (1947) with its theme of
women's liberation was also intended to educate people on democracy. During the
late Meiji and early Taisho period, Matsui Sumako (Tanaka Kinuyo) was the first
major star of the shingeki theatre movement. Under the tutelage of Shimamura
Hogetsu, she metamorphosed from someone plain into someone who could play the
role of Nora in Ibsen's A Doll's House. Write-ups about her said that, like Nora,
Matsui Sumako, too, had escaped from an old family in order to live independently.
Women of the Night
Mizoguchi's finest film. Women ofthe Night (1948), was released a few years after
the war.
The story is set in Osaka, three years after Japan's defeat in the Second World War,
when the residue of the bombings is stiii visible.
Figure 17 Tanaka Kinuyo (left) and Yamamura So in TheLove ofSumako the

Actress (1947).
Fusako, waiting for her husband who still hasn't returned from the war, is informed
of his death; soon afterwards, her sick child also dies. Ill-treated by her husband's
younger brother and his wife, she decides to leave her home and becomes a secretary
to Kuriyama, the president of a company and her husband's friend during the war.
Kuriyama is an opium smuggler, but he looks after Fusako well, and she ends up as
his mistress. She then meets Natsuko, her younger sister, a dancer, who has come back
from Korea, and they start living together. One day Fusako returns to the apartment and
finds Natsuko sleeping with Kuriyama. She is shattered and runs out of the apartment.
Natsuko walks the city looking for Fusako. She is mistaken for a prostitute, picked up
by the police and taken to a hospital where she is forcibly examined. She has a vene
real disease and is pregnant. She runs into Fusako, who by now hates men and has
become like an older sister to the city prostitutes.
Meanwhile, Fusako's husband's elder sister, Kumiko (Tsunoda Tomie), attracted by
the glitter of a fast life, has run away with money stolen from the family. Robbed and
raped by men hanging around the red-light district, she decides to become a prostitute.
This is not easy as she finds that the prostitutes who control the area will not allow her
to solicit without their permission. Around this time Fusako, havingjust run out of the
hospital, comes to Kumiko's rescue. She hugs Kumiko under the shadow of the cross
on the church, and laments loudly.
Figure 18 Tanaka Kinuyo (left) andTakasugi Sanae in Women of theNight (1948).

One of the major social problems in post-war Japan was that of panpan girls
standing around boldly and soliciting customers at every street comer in big
metropolises. Many of these girls evoked sympathy. Reduced to poverty after the
war, they had found themselves forced into prostitution. But there were also large
numbers of promiscuous, immoral women. Mizoguchi saw this as splendid mate
rial and he approached it with ferocious realism.
Understandably, the panpan girl was completely different from the geisha that
Mizoguchi knew so well. She was a new type of prostitute, and it was difficult to
understand her lifestyle and her way of thinking. Getting to know the little details
of her life was particularly hard; their stories and their character could only be
dealt with conceptually. More than painting a true-to-life picture, therefore, the
films were obsessed with a crude message of sympathy for the plight of the panpan
girl.
Nevertheless, in a number of scenes Mizoguchi's direction is tmly superb: when
Fusako returns to the apartment to find her younger sister sleeping with Kuriyama,
and the sight of his harried face; when Kumiko is harassed by a wastrel student
(Aoyama Hiroshi) and relieved of her money; when the strumpets attack, and take
awaythe clothes she is wearing. These scenes are masterpieces that contain two of
Mizoguchi's specialities: the long shot and the 'one scene-one cut'.
-9-
Recreating the Classics
Is Mizoguchi Old-fashioned?
Since the end of the silent era, Mizoguchi has commanded respect as one of the
few, select, great masters in Japanese cinema. But not all critics have been
favourably inclined, and some, indeed, have been very critical. Those who praise
him as a master, also - on occasion - point out his shortcomings. They claim that
he gets caught up in details for their own sake, which slows down the tempo of his
films, and that his theme of human relations is based on an archaic psychology
devoid of a contemporary feel. In other words, Mizoguchi's films are not modern.
Such criticism suddenly abated when Mizoguchi's technique of the 'one scene-one
shot' became popular in the West around the 1950s and was highly acclaimed in
France. Till then, it was believed that the shorter the shots, the faster the tempo;
and a fast tempo was considered 'modern'.
These views flourished particularly after the Second World War, a time when an
understanding of democracy was spreading in Japan. Not being modem now meant
being pre-modem, and it was around this time that Mizoguchi came in for severe
criticism. The most representative piece of writing was by Uryu Tadao, a brilliant
mind who launched into film criticism after the war with a piece called 'Investigation
into What is Called a Human' (Ningyen no tankyu to iu koto). It was written in 1946
and published in January 1947 as part of an essay, 'Reflections on Japanese Film'
(Nihon no eiga e no hansel) in Film and the Modern Spirit (Eiga to kindai seishin),
and included as well in another collection. The Genealogy of the Cinematic Spirit
(Eigateki seishin no keifii), brought out by Uryu Tadao in February that same year.
The titles of these two collections indicate that a 'cinematic spirit' had to be a
'modem spirit'. Mizoguchi's films were criticized because they lacked the modern
spirit.
Uryu Tadao never once thought that films such as Sisters of the Gion, Osaka
Elegy, and The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums were masterpieces; nor did he
think that 'this director had brought a fully modernist vision to film. "Rather," he
wrote, "I am deeply troubled every time I think that some people have been lauded
for their work as leading figures of Japanese cinema.'
Uryu Tadao's rejection of Mizoguchi was total. He argued that it was not pos
sible for the director to use the world of the geisha quarters, kabuki and the puppet
97
theatre as Material for cinema, even if it was a world he loved. This was, he felt, a
feudal or semi-slave society. If Mizoguchi entered the world of the geidomono (tra
ditional crafts) because during the war years he could not make films from a
humanist perspective, the very act of delving into this world meant, says Uryu, that
'it is difficult for us to believe that the thing that we want to end is something fun
damentally different; we cannot even make an inquiry into how to break out of a
feudal society.' If you speak of peasants or workers, it is possible to show the aspi
rations of the people who want to break free of the conditions prevailing in Japan
from the Meiji period, for these conditions have the hallmarks of a feudal or semi-
feudal capitalist society.
The world of the geisha and the theatre actor preceded the feudal period. It
belonged to a semi-slave society. As long as Mizoguchi chose to portray it, Uryu
Tadao believed it was impossible 'for the contemporary Japanese who desire to
enter the modern world' to appear in it. He concluded his essay in these words:
The ethical basis of Mizoguchi's works is a type of duty (Jingi, also translated as
humanity and justice). He posits duty (girt) and humanity {ninjo) as the very founda
tion of all human relationships. He has never tried to understand them from an enlight
ened, critical perspective. Had he done so, had he highlighted the problem through
analysis, his work would surely have commanded great respect. But that is not the case.
This is also why he has not been able to pursue a completely cinematic expression
either.
What he has done is clearly to follow one human relationship but never the human
being. His persistent eye is always celebrating [this relationship], but never letting go
of the thread that ties a man and a woman, the constraints between people, the form of
an artist's concentration, a prostitute's way of thinking. One cannot exorcise the demon
within a woman without showing how a suffering man develops as a human being.
He has never analysed. He has never criticised. He has never tried to be scientific.
Therefore, he has never tried to think.
Uryu makes several extreme statements, many of them incorrect, and some with
Just a grain of truth. Firstly, it would not be right to say that Mizoguchi's ethics are
founded on a type of justice (jingi), that the basis of human relationships is duty
{girt) and humanity {ninjo). But it would be going too far to say that Mizoguchi did
not try to 'to understand them from an enlightened, critical perspective'.
Established opinion in the history of cinema has it that no film-maker has portrayed
the falsity of geisha society as critically as Mizoguchi did. It is clearly wrong to say
that 'he has never analysed' or that 'he has never tried to be scientific.' In films such
as Sisters ofthe Gion and Osaka Elegy, he observes and portrays with a realism rare
in cinema, the economic problems which are the basis for the heroines' unhappi-
ness, and how this transforms human relationships and leads to tragedy. Without a
scientific analysis at the very core of his work, how could he have achieved this
realism? And finally, it is excessive to say that 'he has never tried to think.'
Recreating the Classics • 99
There is something to be said for Uryu's views on how the 'suffering man
develops as a human being' or 'exorcise the demon within a woman'; but to
suggest there is no value in depicting the 'the thread that ties a man and a woman,
the constraints between people, the form of an artist's concentration, a prostitute's
way of thinking' is patently wrong. It is idealistic to argue (as Uryu does) that it is
better to investigate the 'man himself rather than (as Mizoguchi does) merely
'human relations'. What separates 'human relations' from the 'man himself? For
instance, by keeping at the heart of the film, 'the thread that ties a man and a
woman, the constraints between people' in The Story ofthe Late Chrysanthemums,
Mizoguchi successfully 'exorcises the demon within a woman'. If, by 'how the
suffering man develops as a human being', Uryu Tadao means that a petit-bour
geois man is successful through intellectual self-discipline in becoming a progres
sive political activist, then the 'one woman's demon' depicted in The Story of the
Late Chrysanthemums does not have that sort of progressiveness. Rather, she is
ready to give her heart and body for a husband or a lover. This is certainly a feu-
dalistic 'demon'. But then, in a society based on patriarchy and lineage, the
heroine has no other means available to her to express her pride as a human being.
It is not as if Mizoguchi had decided that a woman should sacrifice herself for
a man. For Mizoguchi the most important thing - more than any ideology or any
thing else - was to discover the truth of 'one woman's demon'. What comes out
clearly in all his films is that even through 'the form of an artist's concentration
(devotion), a prostitute's way of thinking', a despised person can discover himself
by concentrating completely on the reason for his existence. In his films the geisha,
the dissolute young girl and the artist, always steel themselves in the face of ago
nizing humiliation. The form that this determination takes organically, develops as
'the form of an artist's concentration, a prostitute's way of thinking'. Hence, even
in a pattern that Uryu Tadao believes has no value, one can catch a glimpse of the
'devil' in a person. Mizoguchi is one of the few directors who can do this.
For these reasons I cannot agree with Uryu Tadao's rejection of Mizoguchi.
Nevertheless, the general view that Mizoguchi, the master film-maker, is now old-
fashioned remains. Many argue that his 'one scene-one shot' technique, and the
extreme long shot have acted as a conservative and reactionary influence on the
progress of cinematic language because they come out of a theatrical and not a cin
ematic style.
Why does the 'one scene-one shot' appear outdated, why is it considered reac
tionary? Because, says Uryu Tadao, it was not analytical. And what do we mean
by analytical? Is it something that can be split into various parts and be studied?
Theoretically, at least, the true essence of something can be discovered by differ
entiating between its outward expression and the other parts that constitute it.
However, when applying this to cinema it was mistakenly thought that analysis
meant breaking up scenes into a number of detailed shots and then putting them
together. Because of this misguided notion, the 'one scene-one shot' is not
100 ®Kenji Mizoguchi and the Art ofJapanese Cinema
considered analytical as it did not divide the scene. When Uryu Tadao writes that
Mizoguchi 'never analysed', he has actually fallen into this trap. A scene in a film,
no matter how finely divided, cannot be treated like a concept because the frag
ments are concrete. The scene has no connection with whether a director is ana
lytical or not.
Criticism of the Theory of Montage
What created this illusion among Japanese cinema theorists was the strong influ
ence of Eisenstien's theory of montage. The fundamentals of his theory are that a
single shot in a film does not have much meaning. Meaning is created when the
shots are linked. A truly unique cinematic form of expression comes alive only
when a series of shots expressing antithetical meanings are brought together to
generate conflict. It is at that stage the film achieves the same status as a language.
A film is not merely a depiction or a record of something, and it therefore becomes
possible to speak of an abstract idea or to put forward an argument.
Eisenstein's theory was successful within a limited framework, i.e. successful
when the earlier and later shots were used to make ironic comparisons. However,
a film does more than that. It can convey ideas better by using the story, the dia
logue, the acting as well as the camerawork. Therefore, in practice, Eisenstein's
theory did not have much effect on film-makers. The objections to montage are
that it oversimplifies the rich content of each single shot, reducing it to a mere
metaphor, and impoverishes the composition.
In his essay, Uryu Tadao criticizes Mizoguchi for ignoring the theory of montage:
In the course of breaking down a human being into various parts and creating a syn
thesis at the same time, it is necessary to base the process on a dynamic idea of 'human
formation'. A cinematic reality formed on this premise will necessarily demand the
bold layering of cuts, even if it sometimes appears excessive, because this layering, by
ignoring the reality of place and time, will create a new reality. The question is whether
sufficient elements have been prepared or not for one scene.
Mizoguchi packs everything he wants to say into one shot. Uryu Tadao believes
that a film is made by linking a series of unrelated fragments and Mizoguchi's way
of film-making is therefore incorrect. Mizoguchi also rarely used the close-up.
This too, Uryu Tadao sees as reactionary and he makes his position clear:
Film has a fearsome weapon to get close to a human being - the close-up. The close-
up shot is not merely a way to get close to the face, but to any part of a person - the
hand or the finger, or even the tip of the nose, to concentrate attention on one point of
a person's body. Clearly, there can be similar expectations from the long shot and the
full shot, but the two are possible precisely because there is a close-up. These two types
of shots scatter the attention of the viewer and make it difficult to overcome the obsta
cles of conceptualising the momentum, the scene.
Uryu Tadao believes that each aspect of reality should be expanded with close-up
shots, failing which the viewers' attentive powers will be dispersed. However, I
have studied how Mizoguchi, in quite the opposite way and without using the
close-up, is able to hold the viewer's attention. He does this by including many
things in one shot.
The criticism of Mizoguchi from a perspective that saw montage as the ultimate
theory now appears ridiculous, even though the argument that attempted to dismiss
him as an outdated master was a strong one. Actually, Mizoguchi came across as
a great man from the past. He chose his subject matter from the past; but even in
films like The Victory of Women where the content is new, the work hardly differed
from the old shinpa theatre. Compared to the younger generation of directors like
Kurosawa Akira, Kinoshita Keisuke, Yoshimura Kosaburo and Imai Tadashi,
Mizoguchi did appear extremely old-fashioned. But while he did nothing to
counter the critical appraisal, it did hurt him and he took it to heart. When any
young director became popular, Mizoguchi would berate his staff, telling them
they were not working hard enough.
Given his was a competitive spirit, Mizoguchi wanted to keep up with the new
breed of talented young directors. But in a contrary sort of way, the more he
desired the new, the more tenaciously he clung to the old. The best works of his
life - Life of Oharu, Ugetsu, Sansho the Bailiff and A Story from Chikamatsu -
were all based on Japanese classics in his mature period, between 1952 and 1954.
These films dealt with human relationships and feelings, with the morality and
beliefs of a pre-modem social system. This was a challenging task for Mizoguchi,
particularly at a time when it was considered worthwhile to demolish the whole
feudal system, if that could take you even a step closer to Western modernity.
Mizoguchi, however, always failed when he tried to simply be new. He needed to
grapple with the old in order to discover the new, and this engagement with the old
world made him really love it, so much so that he sometimes dismantled the orig
inal stories, sometimes even changed them completely.
A Passionate Woman
Life of Oharu (1952) was based on Ihara Saikaku's 1686 novelette, A Passionate
Woman. The title in Japanese - 'Koshoku ichidai onna' - has a special meaning:
the word koshoku means passionate and erotic, while ichidai onna means a woman
who has led a full life. It conveys the sense that this is the story of a woman who
has spent her life in erotic pleasure. The book is composed of six sections and each
section has four stories. Each story treats a different profession, and we see the
erotic life of the woman protagonist as she moves through twenty-four jobs.
A Passionate Woman is a recognized masterpiece of pre-modem Japanese liter

ature, but if read as a modern novel, it comes across as unnatural. For one, the
female protagonist who is the narrator of the novel, does not have a name. The
story starts with her working in the kitchen of the imperial palace. Then, by turns,
she becomes a dancer, the mistress of a feudal lord {daimyo), a courtesan {tayu) in
the Shimabara geisha district, a prostitute, a temple page (to serve on the head
priest, even as a sexual partner), a priest's mistress (a daikoku or god of wealth) on
a three-year contract, a private secretary to a calligraphy teacher, a servant to a
merchant, a helper in the kitchen {okujochu) of a feudal lord (daimyo), a geisha-
type prostitute, an assistant to a bride, a dressmaker for a city official, a hair
dresser, a tailor, a tea-helper in a samurai's residence and so on, moving from one
profession to another and ending as a Buddhist nun.
More than a realistic portrayal of one woman, the novelette goes through all the
possible professions a woman could have, a sort of professional guide. Not satis
fied with letting her experience these professions, the writer also has her leam the
jobs of the women around her. A Passionate Woman is both a novel and a work that
reveals the many aspects of women's work - in particular, the various kinds of
prostitutes who worked at that time.
That most jobs for women mentioned in the book are related to prostitution
mirrors the reality of the times. The female protagonist lives quite happily in this
world, working as a prostitute. Even in her 'good'jobs such as a maid, a hairdresser
or a tailor, she displays her innate sensuous nature and ends up having sexual rela
tions, and this is why she returns to prostitution. Not for a moment does she regard
it as demeaning. On the contrary, she feels that in the so-called 'good' jobs, a
woman has to obey the orders of her employer, however unjust they may be, while
in prostitution - if a woman is attractive - she can manipulate the man into doing
her bidding and derive a sense of satisfaction. However, the working life of a pros
titute is short. As she loses her attractiveness, her lot, too, becomes miserable. The
pathos of this situation is one of the themes of the book.
Ihara Saikaku does not write of prostitution as a social problem. Ultimately, it
is the female protagonist's nature that is passionate, and even when she gets a
'good' job she chooses to return to prostitution. This was not Saikaku's point of
view alone; it was a widely prevalent one in the seventeenth century. It is only
modem thinking that sees prostitution as rooted in difficult social conditions.
Saikaku sympathized with the women who live this erotic life. Since they were
born with a love for sex they could never give up prostitution and he felt, there
fore, that they could never be free.
Although Life ofOharu is based on A Passionate Woman, its content is quite dif
ferent. The protagonist has a name - Oham - and she goes through only about a
third of the jobs mentioned in the story. The bigger difference focuses on the
reason why she takes to prostitution. In the original story it is her passionate nature
that is the driving force. In the film, however, Oham does not engage in prostitu-
tion because she wants to. Behind it are a few despicable men who think of women
as reproductive machines, men of a feudalistic persuasion who feel it natural to
exploit women. In the original story, the woman uses the men and enjoys the pleas
ures of sex; she only regrets that a prostitute has a low position in society. In the
film, Oharu is a strong woman with a pure heart who, even while working as a
prostitute, holds her head high.
The most significant reason for changing the story was to revise the prejudices
of the seventeenth-century writer. But there was another reason as well. In 1952,
the year the film was made, people were conscious of the process of democratiza
tion, and women's liberation was a crucial issue within the larger framework.
At the start of the film the heroine is a nobleman's helper in the imperial kitchen.
She falls in love with a young samurai, the retainer of another nobleman. Under
the law this is a crime. She is thrown out and the young samurai is sentenced to
death.
In the original work she knows of the death sentence given to the young
samurai. For a while her profound sadness makes her contemplate suicide, but she
soon gets over it. In Saikaku's opinion, 'There is nothing so fickle as a woman's
heart.'
In the film, the young samurai awaiting execution is asked if he has anything he
would like to say. He replies: "Why is it wrong, sir, for a man and a woman to love
each other? I do not understand why this is adultery. I desire a world where this
status system is abolished and where everyone can love freely. Oharu, live with
these true memories.'
It is difficult to imagine a seventeenth-century samurai sounding so democratic.
I saw the film when it was first released and I felt these lines were unnatural and
out of place.
That Mizoguchi rewrote the lines 'Live with these true memories' in the script
of the film over and over again is well known. He even had the scriptwriter rewrite
the final version. While filming the scene, he called him back and had the lines
written yet again (see Yoshikata Yoda Collection ofScripts, Eijin-sha, 1978). There
are always differences between the published version of a script and the one actu
ally used in the film. In this case, too, the words 'Live with these true memories'
were probably added at the very last minute. One can see it is as the defining
moment when the shooting finally took place.
The officer at the execution records these last words and sends the message to
Oharu. Oharu's mother stops her from committing suicide, and the young
samurai's words, 'Live with these true memories', becomes the guiding principle
of her life. As a prostitute, she continues to have relationships with many men. But
she looks for a partner from whom she can expect to 'live with these true memo
ries'.
When, as a sixty-year-old streetwalker, the heroine in the original work sees a
statue of the 500 Buddhas (arhats), she thinks that each one resembles one of the
men she loved. However, there is no mention of her first love, the young samurai.
In the film, Oharu sees the face of her beloved young samurai in the very first
statue.
In the next story the heroine is a concubine to a feudal lord (daimyo) in eastern
Japan. Her job is to provide him with an heir. The samurai who has come to select
the concubine tells the broker in detail, and with great humour, of the type of con
cubine the daimyo wants. In this, and in the scenes that show the jealousy of the
lord's wife (okugata), the film follows the novel. The last half, however, is entirely
different. In the original, the lord is impotent but Oharu mentions this 'to anyone,
and regrets it constantly'. When he becomes paralysed, his ministers blame it on
her sexual vigour and dismiss her from her job.
In the film Oharu gives birth to the lord's son. This is a major departure, made
apparently on Mizoguchi's suggestion. It created a wonderful climax, for the son
later succeeds the lord to the title, while Oharu ends as a streetwalker. This
reworking of the original text highlighted the tragedy of a mother's love for her
son, even as it showed the tragi-comedy of Japan's brutal concubine system that
regarded a woman only as a procreative instrument.
In the film the lord is not shown as impotent but the reasons for Oharu's dis
missal remain the same; the lord is obsessed by her, indulges in too much sex, and
ruins his health. It is only in this one case that the heroine's eroticism as described
in the original story is retained, for here, as in the literary work, Oharu is dis
missed because of her passionate nature.
The original story emphasizes the heroine's miserable character - she has
become a prostitute despite her young age. In the film, however, Oharu may be a
prostitute, but she is not despicable. Instead, she resists the patrons who buy her.
This, too, is a major change from the original.
In the novelette Oharu (even as she works in the houses of merchants or samurai
after her indenture with the brothel is over) harasses the master of the house; in the
film, she is different. In the original, while she is the respected 'wife (naigisama)
of the fan-maker', her remonstrations with the customers lead to her divorce. In
the film, her husband is killed in a robbery.This not-too-happy change is meant to
show that Oharu's happiness is destroyed accidentally, that bad luck is the cause of
her sorrow.
Hereafter, she despairs of the world and enters a Buddhist nunnery. The film
shows her flirting with the cloth merchant's clerk and incurring the wrath of the
head of the nunnery. She is thrown out.
Oharu goes on to work as a maidservant at an inn, at a public bath and at a
teashop; she then goes aboard a small ship to work as a prostitute. Each of the
many types of prostitution she engages in are little vignettes. The original has
many more, each related through an episode. The script reduces this drastically and
uses broad strokes to show Oharu falling gradually into a disreputable state.
Mizoguchi also shortens the four scenes from the time she leaves the nunnery
and separates from the cloth merchant's clerk. He skips about twenty years to show
her sitting in front of a temple outside the city of Nara, playing a samisen and
begging for food. A feudal lord's procession passes by and the young scion is seen
riding in a magnificent palanquin. We later learn that he is her son. Whether she is
aware of this or not, she stares fixedly at the procession. This scene is from the film
script. The feudal lord's procession was not in the published script but figured in a
later addition, and it is a truly scorching scene.
Oharu falls ill in the cold. She is helped by a group of wet nurses, whom she
will later join. These nurses - the lowest type ofprostitutes, all of them at least over
fifty years old - fool clients in the darkness of the night. Oharu does likewise. One
customer takes her to a pilgrims' inn and exhibits her, in candlelight, to his young
friends, to let them know what prostitutes look like as they get older; that behind
their thick make-up they are actually quite grotesque.
This fall to the ranks of the wet nurses is faithful to the original work. It is only
in this one incident that they followed the original faithfully and transferred its
frightening realism to film. This was not the case with most of the other episodes
;: 1
Figure 19 Tanaka Kinuyo (left) and Sugai Ichiro in The Life of Oharu (1952),
Toho Film Co. Ltd.
that Mizoguchi and Yoda rewrote in a bid to turn Oharu from a sensuous to a
modest woman.
These episodes were written anew for the film. After the child born to Oharu
becomes a lord (daimyo), she is recalled to the daimyo household. She returns,
thinking she has found happiness at last, will wear beautiful clothes and have
attendants to serve her. However, at the daimyo residence she is imprisoned: if it
were revealed that the lord's real mother is a prostitute, it would spell disaster -
something she had never imagined would happen. Earlier, she is treated with care
and permitted to meet the lord, but not as mother. She can only look at him while
kneeling in the garden as he walks down a corridor. Upon seeing him, Oharu
breaks through the samurai guarding her and runs after the lord. When they try and
stop her, she cries, 'That is my child.'
The samurai bow down and kneel when they hear these words but the daimyo
walks by without giving any sign of recognition. Once again Oharu runs after him,
once again the samurai try to stop her and she says, 'Please return my child.'
Her air of maternal dignity is enough to make the samurai kneel instinctively.
This scene - with the daimyo, Oharu, the samurai, the chase with its humour, grace
and tragedy - is really the climax of the film. The grotesque wet nurses appear to
be transformed into noblewomen, playing gracefully in the exquisite garden. The
queens of an erotic world have become pure young maidens. In an offensive and
ugly world, the heroine who has spent her life bewailing her fate, changes at the
end into a dignified noblewoman. This innate dignity, which makes the samurai
kneel, is not false or fabricated. Compared to the daimyo who has been raised as
a nobleman, her dignity is inborn; and it is the daimyo who cannot call his real
mother 'Mother', that we pity. Oharu is the prisoner in this daimyo house, but it is
the daimyo and the samurai we see running helter-skelter.
In the last scene in this sequence, the palanquin meant to carry away the noble
prisoner is placed outside the gate of the daimyo residence. Oharu, who is to be
taken away, is nowhere to be found. The panic-stricken samurai run about in con
fusion. How impossible for an old woman guarded by a large group of samurai to
suddenly disappear! But disappear she does. Oharu has mysteriously escaped.
Equally mysterious is how the old wet nurses reappear as dignified noblewomen in
the next scene. With so many strange occurrences, Oharu's disappearance is not so
remarkable after all. Entranced by the exquisite direction of this climax, the audi
ence understands and accepts it all.
Image of the Prostitute as Sacred
The climax makes it clear that the real subject of the film is not the freedom to
love, but something else, something which does not exist in the original work: the
creation of the image of the prostitute as sacred, the attempt to discover a higher
spirit in a woman who otherwise lives an appalling life. This image can also be
seen in the character of Sonia in Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, and in
Katushya in Tolstoy's Resurrection. For Mizoguchi and Yoda, this creation is the
culmination of a process of examining women through films such as Osaka Elegy,
Sisters of the Gion, Straits ofLove and Hate and Women ofthe Night, where they
present a highly refined and polished world with realism.
The need to discover a higher spirit within a despised existence is above all a
religious impulse. It is not confined to any specific religion such as Christianity or
Buddhism, but lies hidden at the root of many religions. But while Saikaku's nov
elette is extremely irreligious, Mizoguchi's film is a deeply religious work, and this
is clear not only in the climax but also in the scene that follows - the last scene
where Oharu goes from house to house as if on a pilgrimage, chanting a Buddhist
sutra. The prayer is set to Western music, while a chorus sings The Complete
Realisation of a Vow' (Seiganjoju), in a very high pitch.
In a recently discovered script of the film, this last scene has Oharu - now the
head priestess of a temple outside the capital (Kyoto) - reciting the sutra in front
of the statue of the Boddhisatva. This scene was changed during the filming. In
Saikaku's work, the heroine, after she becomes a nun, offers herself to two men
who have come to the temple. The writer's intention in narrating the life of a
woman as an austere nun, who offers herself sexually to men, fits into a popular
genre of pornographic writing that readers find erotic. Saikaku's novelette is not
just a pornographic novelette, it is a wonderfully realistic one. There are other
examples of brilliant pornographic novels that have satirised religion sharply.
The idea of a nun recalling her past was rejected from the moment the script was
written. Oharu becomes a nun only at the end. The decision to show her as a
pilgrim and the addition of devotional music was made during the filming. In both
the original work and the film, Oharu becomes a nun in her old age. But there is a
world of difference between a nun talking erotically and a nun who leaves the
world of desire for the world of religion.
Mizoguchi is more successful than Saikaku in creating a realistic world.
Saikaku mistakenly believes that a prostitute has an intrinsically passionate nature
and cannot give up her profession. This was a commonly held belief and did not
reflect any particular prejudice on Saikaku's part. But it did lead to an inaccurate
portrayal of the prostitute's real world. Mizoguchi, on the other hand, by showing
that prostitution was evil and the product of a male-dominated society, corrects
Saikaku's perception. There is no coquetry in Mizoguchi's Oharu; there is nothing
cheap. She does not appear as a woman using sex as a means to earn a living.
This can be explained by referring to the predominant interests of Japanese
audiences in the 1950s. They would not have welcomed an adulterous, promis
cuous woman as a heroine. A romance would not have worked if the heroine was
not the man's first woman. In A Picture ofMadame Yuki, made two years before
The Life of Oharu, Mizoguchi narrated the story of an upper-class woman who.
while yearning for a pure-hearted man, is bewitched by her brute of a husband. The
film was a box-office success, since the strangeness of the heroine stimulated the
curiosity of the audience. But it was not the sort of film that one would want to see
repeatedly. Oharu was played by Tanaka Kinuyo, who had also played a street
walker in Mizoguchi's Women of the Night (1948). She became one of the most
popular actresses in the history of Japanese cinema, embodying chaste, healthy,
pure, winsome characters - the very models of the 'pink flower of Yamato'. Her
role of a streetwalker was a remarkable exception: she would normally play a well-
bred, moral woman - the kind of character that would resonate with her audience.
Which is why no one objected when Oharu's character in the film turned out to be
so completely different from character in the original work.
Changing her character to conform to the audience's moral values was what
made The Life ofOharu a masterpiece. While basing himself on Saikaku's female
protagonist, Mizoguchi depicted a totally different woman - an ideal, sacred
woman, a woman who would take on herself all the sins of men, their meanness,
weakness and ugliness; a woman who, through her misery would make men
ashamed of themselves; a saint of a woman. This is why if you read the original
after seeing the film, the novel seems to be a parody written 266 years before the
film was made.
Mizoguchi replaced the light and witty style of the original book with some
thing different, something sombre. The cinematography of Hirano Yoshimi, who
worked alone on this with Mizoguchi, was marvellous. It showed a wonderful
grasp of Mizoguchi's 'one scene-one shot' technique. Hirano Yoshimi's graceful
scenes recall old picture scrolls.
The camera movements and the panning shots are much more than just beau
tiful photography - they go beyond the film-maker's characteristic style. The
movement of the camera itself exudes power - the same power that skilled dancers
exercise with their movements. It leaves you enticed and intoxicated.
There is a scene where Mifiine Toshiro plays the noble apprentice, a samurai,
who is beheaded for the crime of falling in love with Oharu. The scene starts with
a general shot of the execution ground with its bamboo palisade. We then see the
bound samurai; in the background is the executioner, holding back a little. When
the young samurai cries out, 'I pray for the time when love will not be a crime!'
the camera suddenly moves away from his face to a close-up of the executioner's
sword. The executioner wets the blade and puts it back in the scabbard. The camera
follows the sword, panning up and then stops. The fluidity of the movement is like
drawing a line with a brush. You grip the brush tightly, draw it to the point you
want to, stop firmly with a sense of satisfaction, and sigh with pleasure. This is the
kind of satisfaction that this fleeting camera movement gives. The sword is brought
down soundlessly; the camera stops moving and shows just an empty space: a
scene meant to induce a gasp of sorrow even from those who would normally be
unaffected. In the empty frame we see the sword, having finished the beheading.
being brought back up in the executioner's left hand. For a moment it is suspended,
like some decoration, almost as if the quickened breathing has slowed down now
that the killing is over; and then it is quietly lowered. The camera once again
follows the sword, panning down, and the long 'one scene-one shot' ends. In
Mizoguchi's films the movement of the camera is subtle; like the hands, feet or
neck of a dancer, it moves just a little and stops.
The following scene shows Oharu leaving Kyoto with her parents. It is night.
Under the light of the lanterns she and her group are seen on the river embankment
taking leave of the people who have come to see her off. The camera, placed on
the dry riverbed, shows the group walking in a line and crossing over to the other
bank, appearing almost doll-like. At first it is quite stationary; one cannot tell that
it is mounted on a carriage. Suddenly it moves under the bridge and looks across,
from below a barge to the top of the embankment. By the end of the scene,
however, the minimal movement of the camera is almost unnoticeable; and this is
so appropriate to the scene.
In a scene of a reluctant farewell, the camera is normally fixed at one point to
show the sadness of those who depart and those who have come to bid the group
goodbye. It may follow the former from the perspective of the latter. The director
may imbue his shots with sympathy and a silent appeal against an unjust exile.
Mizoguchi does not use the shot-reverse-shot even once. His camera, installed
at one point, looks fixedly and with detachment at the others. It is an objective look
that seems to say: these are unlucky people, resign yourself and go back. In the
end, when the line of people has crossed to the other bank and is difficult to see,
Mizoguchi moves the camera forward on a carriage, and once again takes a peek
at the group from the top of the barge. Although his stance appears to be cold and
dispassionate, this movement of the camera suddenly shows that he is gazing at the
group with deep sorrow. His use of the barge, from where the line of people appear
as small dots, is a good move, foretelling their gloomy fate as they head off into
the darkness, and evoking much more than would have been possible through a
shot-reverse-shot or any other camera movement.
After her husband, the fan-maker, is murdered in a robbery, Oharu seeks admis
sion in a Buddhist temple. We have a shot of a nun standing quietly with Oharu in
the temple garden. A vertical ray of light shining on their two faces seems to bind
them together. The entire scene is bathed in these vertical rays that come across
like a rain of tears, as if the camera were weeping for Oharu.
Tanaka Kinuyo as Oharu gave one of the best performances of her life in this
film. In an early scene in the arhat hall (rakando), she gazes at the statue of the
arhat, recalling each of the men she has been intimate with. It is an excellent ren
dition of a pitiable old prostitute of the lowest order who, though modest and
humble, is not coarse or vulgar. An erotic smile flits across her face revealing a
hard-to-violate dignity. It's a contradictory impression, and is expressed simulta
neously by her pose and expression.
II
llr
Figure 20 Tanaka Kinuyo (left) and Mizoguchi Kenji in Venice.
Another case in point is the scene where Oharu begs for food outside the temple
gate. She is hunched over as she tries to protect herself from the cold wind. Then
her face slowly awakens to look at the palanquin of the daimyo, full of a deep and
vibrant feeling and a certain despair.
The Life of Oharu is one of the greatest films made by Mizoguchi Kenji, Yoda
Yoshikata and Tanaka Kinuyo. Winner of the best director award at the Venice Film
Festival in 1952, it is also one of the finest films in the history of Japanese cinema.
This gave Mizoguchi a sense of great confidence. The following year he made
Ugetsu and the year after, Sansho the Bailiff. Both won the Silver Lion at the
Venice Film Festival and his name became known internationally.
Cinematization of Form and Subject of Traditional Drama - Ugetsu
Ugetsu (1952) was based on an eponymous collection of short mystery stories written
by Ueda Akinari in 1776. As with The Life of Oharu, in this film, too, Mizoguchi fun
damentally changed the classic. Fie conceived the structure of the story himself and it
was under his very strict supervision that Yoda wrote the script. Even while it was being
written, the novelist and director on the board of Daiei, Kawaguchi Matsutaro, pub
lished it as a novel. It was common practice at that time to get a novelist to write a script
as a novel and have it published in a magazine to promote the film.
The original work had nine sections consisting of ghost stories and tales of the
grotesque. Mizoguchi selected only The Inn at the Ford (Asaji ga yado) and The Lust
ofa Snake Character (Jasei no in) from the collection. To this he first thought of adding
the theme of Guy de Maupassant's novel, I WasAwarded a Medal However, he only
took the germ of an idea from it, not the whole story.
The original story of The Inn at the Ford was borrowed from a Chinese novel, Jien
Deng Xin hua. Katsushiro, a peasant from Shimofusa, sells his fields, buys some silk
and sets off to sell it in the capital, Kyoto. He finds the capital in the throes of a rebel
lion. He is robbed, falls ill and doesn't return to his village for seven years. When he
does, he discovers his wife waiting for him in his dilapidated house. She is overjoyed
and they go to sleep together. The next morning, when Katsushiro wakes up, Miyagi,
his wife, is missing. He then sees her grave with her dying words written on the grave
stone and realizes that his wife had appeared to him as a spirit the night before. He
wails and laments.
TheLust ofthe Snake Character (Jasei no in) is also a translation of a Chinese novel,
Xihou Jiahua. In the book, Toyoo, the young son of a wealthy man (choj'yo) of Kishi,
seeks shelter from the rain in a poor man's hut. There he meets Manago, a beautiful
woman, who says that she, too, is waiting for the rain to stop. When Toyoo returns
home he dreams that he is visiting her magnificent house, is received with great hospi
tality and spends the night with her. The next morning, when he actually visits her
house, it appears exactly as he had seen it in his dream, and he is welcomed with the
same hospitably. The woman presentsToyoo with a sword, which he takes home. His
elder brother is suspicious as it is an extremelyvaluable sword. Upon investigation, he
learns that a minister from the capital had presented the sword as an offering to the
Kumano shrine from where it had been stolen. Toyoo goes to the shrine to return the
sword but is taken for the thief who had stolen it, and is handed over to the authorities.
He pleadshis innocence and takes the officers to Manago's house. It turns out to be an
abandoned house, home to wild animals.
When Toyoo is released he goes to live at his married sister's home in Yamato. Here
Manago visits him again. She says Toyoo is her husband but Toyoo replies that she not
a human being, only a ghost. Manago weeps and defends herself. She convinces both
Toyokazu and his sister, and at the latter's urging, the two perform the wedding rites.
One day Toyoo takes Manago to a Shinto shrine where they meet an old man who
stares at them and reveals that Manago is a ghost. Manago flees. Toyoo is saved from
her and returns to his father's house. The father persuades him to marry Tomiko, a girl
from a good family. On the second night after the wedding,Tomiko suddenly talks in
Manago's voice and shows her fhistration. The morning after this frightening night,
Toyoo pleads for help from a priest who has come from the capital. The priest comes
to their house with a potion. Manago reveals her true form as a huge snake and attacks
the priest. He tells her that she can take him wherever she likes but pleads for Tomiko's
life. The big snake agrees. Tomiko's father appeals to Priest Hokai, the head priest of
the Dojoji temple, and a man of great virtue. He gives Toyoo a sacred shoulder scarf
(kesa). Toyoo hides it in his bosom, goes to his bedroom and uses it to cover the snake's
face, still in the guise of Tomiko. The snake fights back but its body is revealed and he
is caught. The priest digs a hole in front of the temple hall in which he buries the snake
and Toyoo is saved.
These two stories were combined into one in the film script. The characters of
Katsushiro in The Inn at the Ford and ofToyoo in The Lust ofthe Snake Character
were merged to create the character of Genjuro, a potter from Omi, his wife
Miyagi, and the beautiful, young woman, Wakasa, whom he meets on the way to
sell his pottery. She combines in herself the spirits of the two women. Wakasa cor
responds to the Manago of The Lust of the Snake Character. But in the script,
instead of a snake in disguise, she has been changed to the spirit of Kuchiki, a
princess from a noble house which was ruined during the war.
Genjuro (Mori Masayuki), the potter from Omi where war has broken out, wants to use
the opportunity to make a profit. He quickly makes a large amount of pottery and with
his wife, Miyagi (Tanaka Kinuyo), young son Genichi, younger sister Ghama (Mito
Mitsuko) and her husband, Tobei (Ozawa Eitaro), sets off for a town on the other side
of Lake Biwa to sell his goods. On the way, they realize that the war has become much
too dangerous, so Genjuro sends his wife and son back. However, a fugitive samurai
spears Miyagi to death for the food she is carrying.
Unaware of this tragedy, Genjuro, Tobei and Ohama sell their pottery and make a
profit.Tobei, anxious to make a name for himself and become a samurai, buys a sword
with his share of the money and joins the war. His company comes to a town where he
visits a brothel with his men and discovers that one of the girls working there is his
wife, Ohama. Tobei begs his wife's forgiveness, gives up being a samurai and they
return home.
Meanwhile, Genjurois praised for his skill as a potter by Wakasa, the noble princess
in the Kuchiki residence, and is entertained by her. They become intimate and he
spends his days as if in a dream. One day a travelling priest stops Genjuro in town. The
priestsaysthat he sees the shadow of deathon him and gives him a charmto driveaway
spirits.That evening,Wakasacannot come close to Genjuro because of the charm; yet
she clings to him desperately. Slashing wildly with his sword, Genjuro flees and falls
in a faint outside. The next morning when he opens his eyes, he sees that he is in a des
olate place, with nothing around him but the burnt remains of a house.
Genjuro returns to his village. It is night and his wife Miyagi, who is putting their
son to bed, welcomes him. He heaves a sigh of relief and sleeps peacefully. The next
morning Miyagi is nowhere to be seen and Genjuro realizes that Miyagi was a ghost
and had stayed back to protect their son till he returned.
The story of Tobei and Ohama was developed from elements in Maupassant's /
Was Awarded a Medal. This is a story about a man who longs to get a medal. His
wife is involved in an adulterous relationship with a member of the Assembly. One
day the husband discovers the Assembly member's medal at home and questions
his wife about it. She lies, telling him that it has been secretly presented to him.
He believes her and is overjoyed. This theme, satirizing a stupid man's desire for
fame, is developed in the story of Tobei and Ohama. But the story is completely
different from Maupassant's. In it, Mizoguchi introduced his lifelong theme - the
Figure 21 Kyo Machiko (left) and Mori Masayuki (right) in Ugetsu (1953),
Kadokawa Pictures, Inc.
sacrifice of a woman for a foolish man. However, Daiei, the production company,
insisted on a happy ending and so it was changed: Tobei, the fool, who longed for
fame, falls for a prostitute but by chance meets his wife and reforms. He abandons
his desire for the social status that he had wagered his life for, and returns to his
earlier life of a peasant. This unbelievably saccharine resolution was clearly the
result of a compromise with the demands of the company. As Yoda wrote in his
book, Mizogiichi Kenji: The Man and the Art, this was not at all what Mizoguchi
had wanted.
As a matter of fact, this happy ending turned the stoty of Tobei and Ohama into
a most dreary tale. Yet Ugetsu was a superb film. The scenes depicting the rela
tionship between Genjuro and the two ghosts are simply exquisite. Wakasa, played
by Kyo Machiko, has a bewitching eroticism, and her appearance in the Kuchiki
mansion is imbued with a mystical beauty. Tanaka Kinuyo as Miyagi plays the role
more as a mother than a wife, and with a boundless love. Of the many women char
acters that Mizoguchi portrayed in his work, these two ghosts are among his most
powerful depictions of women.
One might well ask why Mizoguchi, who is regarded as a realist in Japanese
cinema, and who made films such as Osaka Elegy and Sisters ofthe Gion, so zeal
ously depicted ghosts in his last mature years. He had, of course, made ThePassion
ofa Woman Teacher in 1926, when he was young. But ghosts are, in fact, one of
the most important elements in traditional Japanese theatre. In noh, particularly,
most of the masterpieces have a specific pattern, where a ghost meets a traveller
and narrates the problems he had encountered when he was alive and how he had
died. Mizoguchi had studied traditional Japanese theatre more thoroughly than
most Japanese directors. He used ghost tales because he wanted to bring subjects
and forms from traditional Japanese theatre into cinema.
The most attractive parts of Ugetsu are those that were heavily influenced by
noh. The transformation of the snake into human form in The Lust of the Snake
Character follows a typical noh theatrical form. Wakasa, who should have been
happy as a princess, appears as a ghost because she had died without knowing
love, and her spirit returns to find it. She even wears the costumes of a noh play
which Mizoguchi borrowed from a noh family head {iemoto). Her make-up and
expressions give the impression of a noh mask; her way of walking is derived from
noh's theatrical techniques. The scene where she appears in the Kuchiki mansion,
with a room at the end of a long corridor and the view seen from the garden, repli
cates a noh stage. In noh, a corridor becomes a mystical space as it links this world
with the other world. In the film as well, a truly mystical atmosphere is created as
the maids go down the dark corridor carrying lanterns to the rooms, with the noh
flute (a lateral flute that sounds like a strong wail) providing the music.
Mizoguchi was adamant that Hayasaka Fumio, his musical director, who wanted
to use Western music, must use the noh flute instead. In the music for his previous
film. The Life of Oharu, he made Saito Ichiro experiment with Japanese instru
ments and Buddhist music in a Western orchestra. He was successful in creating a
unique music, but in Ugetsu he made Hayasaka Fumio integrate Japanese and
Western music more fully. More than just a masterpiece of film music, it broke
new ground through this integration. The composer, Takemitsu Torn, who appren
ticed under Hayasaka Fumio, later used this method to write a number of brilliant
musical compositions.
When Wakasa begins to perform as in a noh play {shimae) in the mansion, a suit
of armour displayed in one corner of the mansion begins a noh chant. This is the
voice emerging from the other world of the dead. The music transforms the
Kuchiki mansion into something resembling a noh stage. It creates a world filled
with terror where the dead may appear at any moment; but it is also a world of
indefinable grace and elegance, and filled with pathos; a world where the dead who
cannot become Buddhas (Hotoke ni naru - escape from the cycle of birth and
death) wander about. It is more pitiful than terrifying.
This special characteristic of Japanese ghost stories differentiates them from
Western or Chinese ghost tales. Noh expresses this with great clarity. It is often
said that noh has mystery {yugen), a word with complex overtones and difficult to
explain. A number of scenes in Ugetsii express this feeling effectively. This film is
also one of Mizoguchi's most famous in the West. Perhaps it is this sense of
mystery that explains its fame.
In the original work, The Lust of the Snake Character, the snake is terrifying in
the way it changes its form several times to pursue the man and even kills the priest
who tries to exorcise it. In comparison, Wakasa is a very gentle and sad ghost.
Mizoguchi shortened the later, more frightening part of the original work, where
Manago, the snake, changes herself and appears as Tomiko. The Lust ofthe Snake
Character was a sufficiently long story for a film and in 1921 a film of this name
was indeed made. However, Mizoguchi threw out the tale's frightening part and
incorporated, instead, the more benign sections from The Inn at the Ford. He also
changed the character of Miyagi, who in the original work appears as a ghost only
because she wants to be reunited with her husband. He made her a gentle, loving
mother. More than a ghost she should be called a holy mother. It is in this sense
that Mizoguchi's film is religious.
Yanagida Kunio argues that ancestor worship, which lies at the core of Japanese
beliefs, seems to explain many aspects of these beliefs. We in Japan have faith in
both Shinto and Buddhism. To believe in two religions simultaneously may appear
impure and irresponsible, but what links them is ancestor worship. In Shinto, it is
the kami (superior being), the spirit of the distant ancestors of a tribe or an ethnic
group (minzoku). In Buddhism (and the essence of what we call the Buddha -
hotoke - is quite different from the teachings of Buddhism), it refers to the spirit
of the dead members of the family.
The basis of our religious thoughts and feelings is that the spirits of our near and
distant ancestors are our protective deities. Naturally this is not the only thing that
forms the religion of the Japanese, but it does lie at its core. That is why, as is in
the Harp of Burma, the task of collecting the remains of their compatriots who
died in war is a deeply religious act. Even now, more than sixty years after the
Second World War, the Japanese regard it as their national duty to bring back the
remains of their dead soldiers for burial in Japan. The dead, it is thought, will not
be able to sleep in peace on foreign soil; their spirit must be returned to their vil
lages and placed in graves under the protection of their family or descendants. But
when the Japanese went to collect the remains of their war dead, the countries that
had been invaded by Japan began to fear that the Japanese were somehow trying
to return. The Japanese could not understand this fear. They felt they were merely
performing a sacred duty.
If the soul or spirit of a dead person appears to bear a grudge, it can be quite
frightening; as a rule, however, the spirits protect the living and can be turned to
for help. A ghost normally refers to malevolent spirits, but in Japanese ghost
stories a spirit often protects the family or children. One of the most exquisite
expressions of this is the role of Miyagi as played by Tanaka Kinuyo.
When Genjuro escapes from Wakasa's spirit and returns to his village, it is late
at night and his house is desolate and in ruins. He enters the house but sees no one.
The camera follows him casually as he goes in, and once again the back of the wall
comes into the camera frame. The fire dies down and suddenly we see Miyagi. This
adds an eerie element to the scene. But Genjuro is not surprised. He treats her with
his usual kindness and goes to sleep. Having completed the household work,
Miyagi sits beside her peacefully sleeping husband and child, her expression one
of contentment, her heart overflowing with happiness. The camera moves
extremely slowly.
In this exquisite night scene, the wife is a ghost, yet there is nothing ghostly
about her; instead, in what proved to be a brilliant performance by Tanaka Kinuyo
- she appears her normal, kind self, waiting for her husband to return.
The next morning, Genjuro is surprised to learn of Miyagi's death from the
village headman who has dropped in to see him. The last scene has Genjuro,
Ohama and Tobei hard at work on one side of the house, while we hear Miyagi's
voice off camera. The audience seems to have become Miyagi the ghost, looking
protectively at the actors. The camera, mounted on a crane, moves up as the child
runs to the other side of the workshop. The film ends with the solemn scene of
Miyagi's grave coming into view and the child standing before it with his hands
joined togetheras if in prayer. As the graveappearsunder the credits,we get a truly
superb camera movement. There is a feeling of gravity, seriousness and a sur
prising awareness that the Miyagi of the previous evening was really a spirit, a
solemnity stemming from the fundamental beliefs of the Japanese religionthat the
dead from the other world are caring for and protecting the people they love. It is
shown here not as just a concept, but as something tangible; it is given a form
visible to the naked eye. No other film, at least in my understanding, has depicted
the idea of Japanese religion so clearly and completely. Ueda Akinari's translation
of the Chinese original was thus rewritten and transformed into a very Japanese
story.
An Experiment with a Historical Film: Sansho the Bailiff
Sansho the Bailiff {\95A) was based on Mori Ogai's eponymous novel written in
1941. Ogai in turn based it on a well-known traditional tale, which may have orig
inally been sung as a song by wandering outcasts in medieval times, as they went
around begging for food. This kind of narrative poetry is called a Buddhist folk
tale {sekkyôbus). Many famous examples of such poetry can be found -
'Thatching a Roof (Kanikaya), 'The Ship Shintoku' (Shintoku mani), 'Oguri'
(Oguri hangan) among many others, and they all happen to be tragic tales. Since
these poems are part of an oral performing tradition, there are no authoritative
texts, and they continue to be transmitted orally even today by a few blind women.
mainly travelling artists {goze), their original form known only to a few profes
sionals. Nevertheless, most people are still familiar with them as children's stories.
Mori Ogai's novel is one of the most famous retellings of the original Buddhist
folk tales.
Unfortunately, the popular transmission of oral traditions often gloss over the
cruel portions of these stories and transform them into sweet tales. Sansho the
Bailiff a classic example of this transformation. The original Buddhist folk tale
tells the following story:
Masauji, the judge of Iwaki in the country of Ou (Mutsu), is exiled to distant Chikushi.
His wife, daughter Anju and son Zushiomaru, who are left behind, set out on the long
trip to Chikushi with one female attendant. On the way they are tricked and sold as
slaves in the Bay of Naoe, then separated and put on different ships. The mother and
the attendant are sold to a ship going to Ezo (modern Hokkaido). In Ezo they are put
to work to shoo away birds from the fields. The muscles of their arms and legs are
severed to prevent them from escasping.
Zushiomaru and Anju are sold to Sansho, the bailiff of the country ofTango, to work
at his manor {sheen). The elder sister, Anju, is made to pump seawater, while the
brother is sent to the mountains to cut wood. They are still children and this is hard
work for them. Anju's character strengthens under these adverse circumstances and she
encourages her younger brother, even taking on herself the punishments meted out to
him. One day, Saburo, Sansho's son, overhears the brother and sister talk about
escaping. As a punishment, the two youngsters are branded with a hot iron. Then
Zushiomaru prays to an image of a Buddhist saint (jizo bosatsu) given to him by his
father, the marks on their faces disappear and appear instead on the image of the
Buddhist saint.
The sixteen-year-old Anju helps Zushiomaru escape, but is caught and tortured to
death by Saburo. Zushiomaru escapes to a temple where he is helped by a travelling
priest, Hijiri. Hijiri hides him in a leather basket and, without arousing suspicion,
carries him on his back all the way to Kyoto. When they arrive there, the cramped
Zushiomaru finds he cannot stand or walk. With the help of several people, he begs his
way to the temple of Nanboku Tennoji. Little by little, movement is restored to his legs
and he begins working at the temple.
In Kyoto, a minister who is childless wants to adopt a child. One night the goddess
Kannon appears in his dreams and commands him to go on a pilgrimage to the
Nanboku Tennoji Temple. The minister travels there and from among the hundreds of
orphans, adopts Zushiomaru. Zushiomaru discloses that he is the son of Masauji, the
judge of Iwaki. Later, he is made governor {kokushu) of Tango by the emperor.
As Zushiomaru proceeds to his appointment in Tango, he learns that his elder sister
Anju has been killed. He has Sansho arrested and buried in the ground up to his neck.
His son Saburo's neck is cut with a bamboo saw. Saburo's retainers who had tortured
Anju are also disposed of. Having avenged himself, Zushiomaru divides the estate
between Sansho s two remaining sons, Ichiro and Jiro who had treated him well during
his imprisonment.
Finally, Zushio crosses over to the island of Ezo to look for his mother. He finds her
working in a millet field shooing away birds. She is completely blind, but recovers her
sight miraculously when Zushiomaru puts the image of the Buddhist saint to her eyes.
Next, Zushiomaru goes to the Bay of Naoe to take revenge on Yamaoka, the bailiff, who
had sold them all as slaves. He then proceeds to the capital with his mother. At long
last, his father, Masauji, who had been exiled to Chikushi, is allowed to return, where
the three meet in a tearful reunion.
The father and son build a temple in the country of Tango to pray for the repose
of Anju's spirit, and enshrine their charm (the image of the Buddhist saint) there.
They then return to Ou where they had ruled earlier and regain their wealth and
possessions.
This is the story of Sansho the Bailiffas it was sung in medieval times. The anthro
pologist Yanagida Kunio reckons that the word 'Sansho' means a 'place of dis
persal'. In classical Japanese it meant a place where outcasts, who served as slaves
to the governor of a manor (sheen), lived. The historian Hayashiya Tatsusaburo
says that Sansho the Bailijfwas the headman of this zone, where he exercised strict
authority over his people. Mizoguchi found this explanation helpful while making
the film, since the original story had been forgotten. He reintroduced it, empha
sizing that Mori Ogai had changed the original and shortened it considerably. The
original, based on the harsh lives of those who suffered discrimination, may have
been a cruel story, but it was a cry for their liberation. Hayashiya's essay, 'The
Original Image of "Sansho the Bailiff'", is an important piece of research on the
life and culture of the people during the late ancient and medieval periods, and has
had a significant influence on young scholars.
25,
Figure 22 Sansho the Baliff (\95A), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc.

Until Japan's defeat in the Second World War, questioning the notion that the
Imperial house had descended from the gods in an unbroken lineage of 2,600
years, was taboo. This theory, transmitted through popular tradition and regarded
as indisputable, had severely shackled historical research. If ancient history was to
be studied scientifically, historians would have to deal with the mythology of the
Imperial house and face the contradictions within the real history of the court.
Scholars who questioned the myths and histories collected by the Imperial court,
were often attacked by the right wing; consequently, the empirical study of ancient
and medieval history remained undeveloped in Japan. Kinugasa Teinosuke's film.
The Sun (1925), was attacked because it argued that the myths differed from the
true facts of ancient history. Only when this taboo was broken after Japan's defeat,
could historians actively ask such questions. In making Sansho the Bailiff, which
described the slave society of medieval Japan, Mizoguchi found Hayashiya's his
torical study to be of enormous help.
Mori Ogai's novel is similar to the Buddhist narrative poem, but it does erase
the cruelty of the original story. The biggest difference is Zushiomaru's behaviour
when he becomes the governor ofTango. He does not seek revenge on Sansho, but
issues an order prohibiting the sale of human beings, forcing Sansho to free the
slaves working in his manor. He now has to give them a wage, but because of this
he prospers.
Why did Mori Ogai modify the original story? Keeping in mind Hayashiya's
interpretation, he can be criticized for removing the anger and the desires of the
people of medieval times, something that was integral to the oral tradition. Did he
wish to temper the story's cruelty? Or was it in response to the prevailing climate
when a section of the intelligentsia had already come under the influence of
socialism and the idea of class war? On its part, the ruling class, in its desire to
diffuse the impact of socialism, tried to appropriate the idea of people's liberation
and acted progressively to address the problem of ensuring prosperity for all. How
quickly this could have been achieved in those days is a matter of debate, but worth
thinking about nonetheless.
A major change in the story is that Anju is not tortured and killed, but commits
suicide in a swamp after she helps Zushio to escape. The part where Zushio cannot
stand on his feet after emerging from the leather basket, and has to beg his way to
Nanboku Tennoji temple with the help of strangers, is also shortened. The charm
that Zushio carries is used to cure the daughter of the Regent (kanpaku), and this
gives him an opportunity to rise in the world. His father dies during this time.
It is the introduction of the father's death that makes the new version sadder than
the original. On all other points the revision sanitizes and glosses over the cruelty
of the old story. Interestingly, Buddhist narrative poems were originally trans
mitted by groups of beggars who gathered around shrines, many of them with
injuries or deformities. Today, however, traditional tales transmitted to children are
'cleaned up' and the horror of original Buddhist narrative poems eliminated; what
is stressed, on the other hand, is the miracles that happen through the use of the
image of the Buddhist saint that Zushio carries with him.
Mizoguchi first requested Yahiro Fuji to write the script for Sansho the Bailiff.
This script was faithful to Mori Ogai's novel, but the director was unhappy with it.
He decided that it should be rewritten by Yoda because he believed that while it
was fine to have Anju and Zushio as ten-year-old children in the first half of the
film, they had to be young adults in the latter half. Although the original was a
well-known tragic tale of abused children, to have children become governors, take
revenge on Sansho and free the slaves would turn it into a nursery story with no
realism. I believe that Mizoguchi wanted to craft a more realistic and credible
story.
Both the Buddhist narrative poem and Mori Ogai's novel are silent on why the
father, Masauji, is exiled from the country of Ou to Chikushi. What Mizoguchi
does is to stress that Masauji'ssympatheticpolicies towards the people arousedthe
anger of the authorities and led to his exile. These changes make it clear that
Mizoguchi's purpose in revising the original was to handle this traditional tale in
a more realistic way. He also drastically reduced the many miracles brought about
by the image of the Buddhist saint and the image is used more as a symbolicproof
of Zushio's identity.
The story is also changed to allow Anju and Zushio to become adults in the
latter half of the film. They are shown to have worked for some ten years after
:• '• V
"W,. - -'•.Wl'
Figure 23 Tanaka Kinuyo in Sansho the Balff(\95A), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc.

Recreating the Classics ° 121
being sold to the Sansho manor. The mother, who sold Sado as a prostitute, suffers
abuse and has her leg muscles severed when she tries to escape, is an old woman
when she meets Zushio. This change considerably expands the role of Tanaka
Kinuyo as the mother. At the beginning of the film, where she is seen travelling
with her children across the plains of the pampas grass {susuki), she is a noble and
refined beauty. The scene in Sado, where she is used as a prostitute and is shown
gazing longingly from the beach, across to the distant mainland, crying 'Anju! ...
Zushio!' is one of profound grief. And in the last scene where, as a blind old
woman, squatting on the beach in tattered clothes, she finally meets Zushio, she
gives a performance that evokes heart-wrenching pity for her wretched condition.
The greater change is that Anju is made the younger sister and Zushio the elder
brother, quite the reverse of the original story. This was done to suit the actors. It
had been decided from the outset that Hanayagi Kisho would play the adult Zushio
and Kagawa Kyoko, the grown-up Anju. Given their ages, Zushio would have to
be the elder brother. Hanayagi had acted in The Story ofthe Late Chrysanthemums,
and was the son of the famous shinpa actor, Hanayagi Shotaro, who was himself
a friend of both Mizoguchi Kenji and Kawaguchi Matsutaro.
Mizoguchi wanted Hanayagi Kisho in the film. But this choice of actors created
a problem with the original story of a strong, healthy, elder sister who sacrifices
herself to save her weak, defenceless, younger brother. It showed the latent sense
of noble motherhood that has moved people ever since medieval times. To alter this
and show a strong younger brother allowing a weak elder sister to sacrifice herself
for him would just not be acceptable. So they thought of showing Zushio helping
one of his old female slave friends by carrying her on his back in a bid to help her
escape. In the story Anju encourages Zushio to escape without her, admitting that
while she, too, would like to flee, her legs will not carry her. This seemed an
unconvincing reason for Zushio to leave her behind; his image as a hero would
have considerably weakened. Although everyone knew that Sansho the BailiffvjdiS
a story of an elder sister and a younger brother, Mizoguchi was not particularly
bothered by the confusion he would create by changing the story around.
The episode of Anju and Zushio being branded and tortured by the cruel Saburo
was dropped. In its place Zushio, now a grown man, is forced on Sansho's orders to
brand an old slave who has tried to run away. The innocent young man's character
has begun to change with the long years of slavery and his friends start disliking
him. Anju finds this painful and advises Zushio to escape. This change was inspired
by a desire to make a more realistic human tragedy in a way that the episode in
which the branded face is miraculously cured by the Buddha image could be
dropped. So, too, were the cruelty and violence of the original narrative that stirred
feelings of revenge in the abused. So we have Anju dying - not of torture as in Mori
Ogai's novel - but of drowning, as she wades into a swamp of her own volition.
The Buddhist oral tradition in which Zushio becomes physically disabled and
turns to begging is also changed. He is shown going to the capital alone to plead
directly with the Regent (kanpaku) and being appointed Governor ofTango. These
scenes are flat and hard to believe - they were nowhere near as interesting as the
stories of the miracles and the begging in the original epic poem.
In Mori Ogai's novel, Zushio's father is already dead in Chikushi when he
(Zushio) becomes a success at the Imperial court. This means that Zushio has to
go to Chikushi to visit his father's grave. He learns that the people always regarded
his father as a deeply compassionate and upright man.
Zushio hears of Anju's death after he takes up his appointment in Tango, and
declares the freedom of all slaves. Sansho, who refuses to recognize this declara
tion, is exiled. This places the film somewhere between the traditional narrative
and Mori Ogai's novel. Mori Ogai writes as though the freedom of the slaves hap
pened effortlessly. But in fact the lands of the manor belonged to the nobility at the
Imperial court; the authority of the local administrators, such as the governor, did
not extend to it. Zushio uses his soldiers to achieve the liberation of the slaves,
even as he sends his resignation to the Imperial court and leaves for the island of
Sado to find his mother. When he is finally reunited with her he tells her that he is
perpetuating his dead father's tradition of compassion to the people.
As the summary indicates, the film is marked strongly by the way Mizoguchi
transforms a mystical tradition into a historical reality. Most historical films of
those years were of the absurd 'superman' variety, and only a handful could be
described as genuinely historical. The move to make historical films began just
before the war years, and some great works that were faithful to the past - such as
Mizoguchi's Chushingura - were, indeed, produced. But in general they were no
more than works in support of the Emperor system without any real historical
vision. That is why Chushingura contains some unbelievable elements such as
Oishi Kuranosuke's anxiety about the reaction of the Imperial court as he wreaks
his revenge.
A movement in the early 1950s sought once again to make real historical films.
In 1951 came Yoshimura Kozaburo's The Tale of Genji; in 1952 Mizoguchi's The
Life of Oharu; in 1953 Yoshimura Kozaburo's Before the Dawn, a film about the
Meiji restoration {ishin) from the perspective of the people in the provinces; and
in 1955 Shibuya Minoru's Bronze Christians, on the persecution of Christians in
the seventeenth century, and Mizoguchi's Taira Clan Saga. In 1954 Kurosawa
Akira made Seven Samurai, again a film that painted a realistic picture of the plight
of farmers during war (sengoku). Sansho the Bailiff was one of the works that
emerged from this new trend of historical cinema.
Does Sansho the Bailiff succeed as a historical film? It is difficult to say. True,
it deals with a sparsely documented period, but the real problem is that the slaves
on Sansho's estate come across as products of the imagination rather than real
people. The images lack cinematic power, and the ideas of compassion that
Masauji, a provincial official, propounds seem like mere propaganda for democ
racy. It is incredible that a provincial official of that time utter such words. Equally
Recreating the Classics *123
unnatural for a historical film was to show that the high-born Zushio, who was
brought up as a slave, is suddenly appointed Governor of Tango when he appears
in court. This may be part of the traditional story, but it does lack credibility.
For all that, the film is a rare masterpiece in its portrayal of the strength of a
woman's love within a larger love for the sacred. The camerawork of the famous
cinematographer Miyagawa Kazuo gives us a magnificent depiction of Tanaka
Kinuyo (as the mother) and Kagawa Keiko (as Anju), as goddesses.
Several conclusions can be drawn about Mizoguchi from his portrayal of the
three characters - the detestable Sansho (played by Shindo Eitaro), the ill-treated
mother and the self-sacrificing Anju: that Mizoguchi did not respect his father; that
he felt deeply about the unfortunate life his mother led; and that, in his youth, his
firmest supporter was his elder sister. His film can thus be seen as partly autobio
graphical, with mythical and abstract overtones. Zushio is not the pure and incor
ruptible spirit of tradition. He perpetrates great cruelty on his fellow slaves and
does not forgive Sansho, as in Mori Ogai's novel. But he is not as vengeful as in
the traditional Buddhist folk tale either. In fact it may just be possible to see
Mizoguchi in Zushio's character.
Of course the film is not Mizoguchi's autobiography, but in Japan's patriarchal
society, many children regard it as all right for a woman to sacrificeher life for her
husband. Popular stories with such themes abound. It is out of compassion for this
unhappy mother figure and out of a yearningfor her lovethat the trend to deify her
emerges. This deification has become a fundamental element in the moral sensi
bilities of the Japanese.
Sansho the Bailiff is one of the best expressions of the Japanese tradition of
stories of sons and daughters reuniting after a long separation. In the climactic
scene where Zushio finally meets his mother on the coast of Sado, their very move
ments express their joy and amazement - desperately clasping each other, as if
with a pent-up, uncontrollable energy, moving slowly closer and then apart with
surprise, running their hands over each other, groping, their conversation muffled,
almost a groan. The performance is like that of puppets and even has the tempo of
a chant. Perhaps Mizoguchi's instruction to the actor who played Zushio in this
scene was to bring out the real solemnity of noh or bunraku. It was important for
the role to be enacted as an adult and not as a child, and Hanayagi Kisho's high-
energy performance was exactly what he desired.
Mizoguchi extracted history from an old tale. Not only was it an appropriate
story for a traditional narrative performance, it was one through which he discov
ered 'his' story, as it were, and discovered, too, a superb cinematic language.
Through Tanaka Kinuyo and Hanayagi Kisho, he created some of the most exqui
site scenes in the history of film: the fear in the scene where mother and children,
having been sold as slaves, are sent off on different ships; the ethereal beauty of
the scene where Anju takes a dip in the water; and then again in the scene I just
described, where Zushio and his mother are reunited.
A Western Romance: A Storyfrom Chikamatsu
Mizoguchi cast some of the most beautiful heroines in his films but rarely did he
make romantic films where a beautiful woman and a handsome man meet and fall
in love. The men who fall in love with his heroines are either unworthy, weak or
immature. But films such as Cascading White Threads, The Story of the Late
Chrysanthemums and Lady Yu are true Japanese-style romances. The only
Western-style romance Mizoguchi ever made was A Story from Chikamatsu
(1954).
The original puppet play {sewa joruri) of Chikamatsu Monzaemon is a love
story, but one which does glorify love. The love it portrays is actually adulterous,
and while it has a certain beauty, it is also marked by an underlying fear. The orig
inal play. The Old Calendar Maker (Daikyoji mukashi Goyomi) was performed for
the first time in 1717. Based on an actual incident that took place in 1683, this per
formance on the thirty-third anniversary of the incident, was in the nature of a
Buddhist ceremonial entertainment, aimed at pacifying the spirits of the executed
protagonists. Many plays have been performed upon the unnatural death of actors
and noted figures at such Buddhist ceremonies, a practice that continues even
today on a tatami mat stage. The belief is that the spirit of a person who has killed,
been executed, or has died unnaturally, will not leave for the other world but will
wander about here and now, and foment trouble until it is pacified. And that called
for a holding of a ceremony. It is, therefore, necessary to have a performance to
pacify its spirit. These ideas grew out of older and uniquely Japanese beliefs.
The model for the original work, the real story of Osan and Mohei was as
follows:
Isyun is a calendar-maker who lives in the fourth ward on Karasuma Road in Kyoto.
His wife, Osan, is having an adulterous affair with Mohei, the clerk. With the help of
the maid Tama, they run away and hide in Yamada village, Hikami county, in Tanba.
They are caught and brought back to the capital, Kyoto, on 22 September 1683, and
executed at Awataguchi. Osan and Mohei are crucified and Tama is jailed. (Collection
of Japanese Classical Literature, vol. 47, Saikaku Collection, introduction, Iwanami
Publishing House) (Nihon koten bungaku taikei 47 Saikaku shu jo kaisetsu, Iwanami
Shoten)
Subsequently another version, A Shinto Funeral Prayer for the Calendar-Maker

Osan (Daikyoji osan uta saimon) became popular. This was its story:
The maid, Tama, is asked by Mohei to carry a love letter to Osan in which he says that
if he cannot fulfil his love for her, he will die. Osan's heart is moved and she agrees to
meet him one night. Having fulfilled his desire and afraid he may be accused of adul
tery, Mohei wants to have nothing to do with her any more. But Osan does not comply,
and their relations continue till she becomes pregnant. Osan and Mohei escape to hide
in Tanba but their notorious story spreads like wildfire. Osan's husband, who is in Edo,
discovers their whereabouts and the three are found and executed at the Kurodaguchi.
Adultery may be considered to be immoral, but in a feudal society, it assumed an

absolutely frightening dimension. People could be executed for even a minor act
like carrying love letters.
Even before The Old Calendar-Maker, Saikaku used this material for a three-
volume novel. Five Women who Loved Love (Koshoku gonin onna), the story of the
passionate love between Osan, the wife of an upper-class man, who was a cal
endar-maker. It should be pointed out that in those days a paperhanger, with his
monopoly on publishing calendars, had considerable wealth.
The calendar-maker goes to Edo, and during his absence the honest Moemon (Mohei)
comes to work there from Osan's parental home. Rin, the woman working for this noble
family, falls in love with him. Since she is illiterate, she has a love letter written on her
behalf by Osan and gives it to Moemon. Moemon, partly in jest, writes a smug reply.
Rin asks Osan to read the note to her. Osan, irritated by Moemon's sense of himself as
a ladies man, decides to send a fitting reply, and hatches a plan. She writes a beautiful
love letter and asks Moemon to come to Rin's room secretly at night. She plans to be
there in place of Rin, raise an alarm when Rin arrives, call the servants and make a
laughing stock of him.
Osan wears Rin's night-clothes and falls asleep in her room. Moemon enters secretly,
and unknowingly gets into bed with Osan. Once the two realize they are in a compro
mising position and likely to be accused of adultery, they decide to leave the house and
drown themselves in Lake Biwa. Then they change their minds, stage a drowning and
escape over the mountains of Tanba. They are helped by a mountain dweller who has
treated Moemon like a son. This implicates him as well, so he too hides with them in
Tango. The Buddha appears to them in a dream and says, 'You have committed adul
tery and will suffer but if you separate and live apart, perhaps the world will let you
live.' 'It doesn't matter what happens to us,' they answer, 'but you, the Buddha, cannot
understand love.' They decide not to renounce their love for each other.
After some time, Moemon goes back to Kyoto but, frightened by the rumours circu
lating about him and Osan, he returns to Tango. Meanwhile a chestnut seller from
Tanba travels to Kyoto and talks of a couple exactly like Osan and Moemon in Tango.
The calendar-maker pursues them. The two and and their go-between (and not Rin), are
executed.
Saikaku shows that Osan and Moemon's love is born of a purely accidental
encounter: since Osan wants to be free to experience the happiness of love, she sets
out to mock Moemon and substitutes herself for the maid. But once she has slept
with him, she feels she has loved him all her life. Osan and Moemon are people
who have forsaken the morality of the world and abandoned the Buddha's teach
ings for the joy of sex. Even when they have been condemned to death, they write.
'Finally, we feel we have done nothing wrong and have nothing to apologize for.'
Saikaku, it must be added, did not approve of adultery. He felt it was morally
wrong, but accepted that it did happen.
Chikamatsu Monzaemon's puppet play is far more moral than Saikaku's novel
in which the husband Isyun is presented sympathetically as a simple merchant.
Chikamatsu shows him as a man whose affairs set the stage for Osan's tragedy. Far
more than in Saikaku's novel, Osan and Mohei are portrayed as moral individuals
and not as people moved by their passions.
The puppet play shows that the love between a man and a woman may lead to
tragedy and not turn into something beautiful. Osan, the wife of an upper-class
merchant, is at no point a lover of the clerk, Mohei. Their adulterous relationship
stems only from a series of accidents. Osan's family needs a loan. Since it is diffi
cult for Osan to ask Isyun, her husband, she requests Mohei to find the right oppor
tunity to talk to her husband. As Osan is the wife of the master, Mohei does not
think he is committing a crime and he writes out a money order using Isyun's seal.
He is seen by a crafty clerk, Sukeemon, who informs on him. Isyun demands to
know what the money is for and before Osan or Mohei can defend themselves,
Tama, the maid, who had earlier fallen in love with Mohei, tries to help him by
saying that she was in a difficult situation and has asked Mohei to loan her the
money to help her family.
When Osan questions Tama, she leams that her husband had been quietly vis
iting Tama's room every night. Osan is angry and that night changes places with
Tama. When her husband steals into the room, she keeps silent and sleeps with
him. However, afterwards she is ashamed of what she has done. The same night
Mohei, who has been confined in another room, feels that Tama has taken on his
crime because she has fallen in love with him. He escapes and goes quietly to
Tama's room, and thinking that it is Tama, he gets into her bed. At this point Isyun
enters and sees that Osan and Mohei are sleeping together.
Osan and Mohei are not really in love. They flee only to escape death for adul
tery, and even then they do not become lovers. Mohei is convinced he is guilty of
a great crime, while Osan is angry with her husband for his affair. Yet she does not
think that gives her the right to take a lover. Since theirs is a journey of penitence
for an unfortunate act, they are saved in the end by the benevolence of a virtuous
priest.
Osan and Mohei are decent people in an ill-fated situation, but because they
cannot change their fate of their own volition, their appeal as tragic individuals is
limited. The really tragic figure in this play is the maid, Tama, who, because of her
love for Mohei, lies and informs the master's wife about the master seducing her.
She takes the initiative and acts of her own free will. The result is that Mohei,
whom she loves, and Osan, whom she respects, are driven to a tragic end. Though
Tama weeps with regret, she is vocal in her declration that Isyun's adultery and
Sukeemon's guile are the real cause of the tragedy. She accepts her responsibility
and is killed by her uncle, the storyteller Akamatsu Bairyu. It is Tama who is the
main protagonist of the play.
The head of Daiei Studios, Nagata Masaikazu, agreed to have Mizoguchi direct
this film provided the role of Mohei was given to Hasegawa Kazuo. This was the
first time that Mizoguchi had worked with Hasegawa. Hasegawa came from the
western Japan (Kansai) kabuki stage, which had maintained the authenticity of the
puppet play tradition. From being a Japanese-style (wagoto) matinee idol he had
become a film star. Both Mizoguchi and Hasegawa were later to become directors
in Daiei.
An aggressive Mizoguchi said he would not tolerate any foolishness. He
rejected the script written by Kawaguchi Matsutaro, not only because it was overly
faithful to Chikamatsu's original story, but because it put Tama in the main role.
He demanded that elements from the third volume of Ihara Saikaku's Five Women
who Loved Love be included. Saikaku, as I have said earlier, had used the same
incident, but had concentrated on Osan and Mohei's life after their escape - the
time when they actually fell in love. Finally, Mizoguchi suggested that, given the
formal status of the family of the calendar-maker, his adulterous act should at least
lead to the confiscation of his estate.
It was decided that Yoda write another script expanding Mohei's role in the way
Mizoguchi wanted. He was also told that he should write more concretely of how
love was judged within a feudal, social and family system. This had not been dealt
with in the original.
The script is more or less faithful to the original up to the point when Osan and
Mohei commit adultery and flee. It departs from both Chikamatsu's and Saikaku's
version, from the time they decide to throw themselves into Lake Biwa. Mohei
admits that he has been in love with Osan from the start. On hearing this, Osan
'decided that she did not want to die'. For the first time the two, aware of their love
for each other, resolve to live.
When Yoda wrote the lines 'She decided that she did not want to die',
Mizoguchi, shaking with excitement, cried out, 'With just this, the film is com
plete.'
With these elements from the Chikamatsu and Saikaku's stories, the film took
on an altogether different colour - a sort of Western love story of Osan and Mohei,
who do not see their adultery as immoral and are not ashamed to declare their love
openly in front of the gods. Even when they are tied back to back, mounted on a
horse, and taken through the town to their execution, they are satisfied. They smile
and hold hands.
Changing the story from a Japanese tale of the dark and difficult road of a for
bidden love, to a Western story of the triumph of love, meant changing Mohei's
character as well. In the first half of the film, he is a weak but handsome man,
unable to fight his fate. In the latter half, Hasegawa Kazuo plays the role in the
classic manner of the matinee idol (nimaime), taking the initiative and deciding
that he will live for his love. He becomes the hero of a Western romance, ready to
battle fate if necessary.
Mizoguchi hated the character of the weak matinee idol. In this film, however-
made at the peak of his maturity - he turned him into a courageous hero.
By refuting the idea that the couple are a pair of criminals, the film becomes a
series of incomparably beautiful scenes, filled with brightness, quite unlike the bit
terly sorrowful bunraku or kabuki stories. Kagawa Kyoko, who was not a particu
larly great actress, played Osan. She was among the prominent stars known for her
youth and grace, and proved to be the right actress for the role of a young noble
woman whom Mohei treats with respect. Adding to the delightful performance by
Hasegawa Kazuo and Kagawa Kyoko is the great camerawork by Miyagawa
Kazuo. Music director Hayasaka Fumio's brilliant use of Japanese instruments in
certain scenes (where Mohei carries Osan on his back across the dry Kamogawa
river bed; where they plan to commit suicide but decide against it; where Mohei
comes secretly to Osan, who has been taken back to her parental home; where
Osan argues with her mother (Naniwa Chieko) who urges her to leave him; and
where thev are taken back") is auite simnlv nerfect. These scenes are counted
Figure 24 Naniwa Chieko (left), Hasegawa Kazuo (centre) and Kagawa Kyoko
(right) in A Story from Chikamatsu (1954), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc.
The film does more than present the nature of feudalism through a paper-
hanger's family. The status of this paperhanger is based on the monopoly of his
profession. He mixes with the nobility in the capital and has considerable standing
in society. Any scandal, any hint of adultery can easily destroy him and his family.
He is aware that his professional colleagues, who know about this affair, are plot
ting to snatch his commercial rights even as they call him a gem of a man. This is
Yoda bringing out the reality of feudal society, not Chikamatsu or Saikaku. Also,
Sukeemon is not the evil character he is in Chikamatsu. When he discloses
Mohei's failed plan, the master is reluctant to single out one person, and makes it
the responsibility of all the managers. This act of showing Sukeemon in a realistic
light rather than casting him an innately evil person is essentially a rejection of
feudalism.
In Chikamatsu, the climax in the middle of the story is the tragic scene when
the three positive characters, Tama'suncle, Akamatsu Bairyu, the professional sto
ryteller, and Osan's upright parents, come together and lament at what fate has
done to them. Yoda however, threw this scene out of the script and replaced it with
the character of Osan's younger brother, played by Tanaka Haruo. In the gallery of
really detestable characters that Mizoguchi created, this one is surely among the
worst, an extreme example of his disparaging view of the man.
As the tragedy moves inexorablyto its conclusion, Sukeemon, who has failed in
business, comes to borrow money from his elder sister, and quite coolly calls in a
music teacher to relieve his depression through music. He then goes off to fawn
over his brother-in-law Isyun, leaving his sister in a miserable state. When she and
Mohei escape, he has no hesitation in calling them fools, but when the money that
he has asked them for arrives, he grovels and thanks them obsequiously for saving
him from jail. In keeping with his character, when Osan is confined to his house
and Mohei secretly comes to see her, he believes that by informing Isyun he will
safeguard his position, and runs out of the house looking quite cheerful.
Interestingly, despite his odious nature, he never displays his meanness. Even
while crying, he appears to be merely cunning. His actions are always portrayed as
natural, and he is happy and unworried as he carries out his plans, humming as he
impudently pours tea just as he is about to inform on Mohei. Tanaka Haruo gives
a lively performance with these touches, in keeping with his many other fine per
formances he has given.
Many of Mizoguchi's characters treated women badly, but Mohei is the only one
who seems happy to be mean. It added a particularly cruel twist to his lifelong
depiction of the privations forced on sisters by worthless brothers. He assailed the
paternalistic family system where, for the sake of safeguarding the sole inheritor,
all the sisters and younger brothers are made to suffer; and was grimly amused by
the total lack of awareness of this injustice to Japan's patriarchal society.
-10-
The Last Works
Gion Festival Music
Gion Festival Music, made in 1953, can be viewed as Mizoguchi's post-war

version of his film Sisters of the Gion made seventeen years before. The story
is similar - that of an elderly geisha who tries to live like the geisha of an earlier
day, as against a younger geisha who does not hesitate to fight feudal oppres
sion. But the word 'oppression' is perhaps a misnomer since the post-war period
was actually quite accommodating. Hence, the resistance of the younger geisha
to a system which had none of the cruelty of the old, is transformed into some
thing humorous. Mizoguchi was not a young geisha burning with the zeal
inspired by post-war reforms - he was a successful and reputed director, and his
interests had moved from making a film that approached the problem directly
to narrating a story skilfully, and Gion Festival Music is indeed a skilfully told
story.
A young woman, Eiko, played by WakaoAyako, wants to become a geisha and goes to
Miyoharu (KogureMichiyo). Miyoharu is a geisha who (Shindo Eitaro) had once been
helped by Eiko's father. The father is now facing problems.This film is unusual in that
Mizoguchi contrasts Eiko practising to become a geisha or going to a Shinto shrine
dressed as a maiko (an apprentice geisha) with the way she was in school. Her educa
tion reflects the new democratic atmosphere, when forced prostitution was banned. The
scenes are light-hearted, humorous and fresh. Eiko has no regrets about becoming a
geisha, in fact she is overjoyed. The world, however, is not so accepting.
As always in Mizoguchi's films, there is a lecherous, greedy, shameless, middle-aged
man who molests these two women. Miyoharu gently rebukes him but Eiko creates a
scene by biting his tongue when he tries to kiss her. These lascivious, middle-aged men
use the boss (Naniwa Chieko) of a machiai (meeting place), a big power in the Gion
district, as a cat's paw with which to persecute Eiko. All it takes is to let it be known
that she is a ferocious kind of woman, and contracts for Eiko and Miyoharu are can
celled one after another. There is nothing to be done. Miyoharu submits, while Eiko for
the first time understands the cruelty of the geisha world.
In the last scene of the earlier Sisters of the Gion, Mizoguchi had the spirited
young geisha cry out, 'A geisha is for sale ... is it all right if there is no work?' In
131
Figure 25 Gion Festival Music (1953), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc.
this film he stopped short of making such cold statements. Instead, he has the sad,
melancholy air of defeat; he has, in places, gone back to his earlier days and used
elements of shinpa drama.
One of the highlights of this film - apart from the way in which Mizoguchi
shows the suppression of women in Gion - is the shocking but funny scene when
Wakao Ayako, a new actress who plays the fearless young maiko, bites the tongue
of the salacious, middle-aged man. Surprisingly, Naniwa Chieko as the boss of the
machiai, gives a brilliant performance. Another highlight is the way in which the
suppression of women in Gion is portrayed.
The Woman in the Rumour
The Woman in the Rumour (1954) is a traditional comedy set in the Shimabara
brothel district of Kyoto.
The film centres on a widow (Tanaka Kinuyo), the head of a large old brothel. She
looks upon her work as a vocation and puts her heart into it. The film shows the behav
iour of men and women in Shimabara, Japan's most famous red-light district. Her
daughter (Kuga Yoshiko) has been to university in Tokyo and, following an abortive
attempt at suicide because of an unfortunate love affair, has returned to Shimabara. She
is ashamed of her mother's profession. But while looking after the prostitutes who work
The Last Works • 133
Figure 26 Kuga Yoshiko (left) in The Woman in the Rumour (1954), © Kadokawa
Pictures, Inc.
there, she begins to sympathize with their plight. Her mother falls ill and the daughter,
quite naturally, takes over from her and manages the brothel.
There is also a comic element in the story - the mother's jealousy over a young
doctor (Otani Tomoemon) whom she loves. During her illness the doctor begins to fall
in love with the daughter. Mother and daughter tight over the young doctor but when
they discover how awful he is, both throw him out of the house.
Mizoguchi's demonstrates his truly skilful directorial technique, and Tanaka

Kinuyo puts in a superb performance, especially in the scene where she is mad
with jealousy on learning about the doctor's betrayal. Yet Mizoguchi could do
nothing about the stale, worn-out story - surprising, indeed, that the man who had
earlier made combative films in support of the fundamental rights of poor women,
was now making a light-hearted film that barely touched upon the problems of
prostitution. Gion Festival Music and The Woman in the Rumour are like a holiday
he took from the great works of his last years. They are full of contradictions that
were born out of his own position: a critic of prostitution as well as a man of the
demi-monde.
Princess Yang Kwei-fei
After Gion Festival Music and The Woman in the Rumour - films made with prac
tised skill on familiar subjects but devoid of ambition - Mizoguchi went to the
other extreme and made two films on an unfamiliar theme: Princess YangKwei-fei
and Taira Clan Saga.
Princess Yang Kwei-fei is a story of the Imperial court in ancient China.

Emperor Xuan Zong (Mori Masayuki) has lost the beautiful princess he loved.
In a bid to gain influence with the Emperor, An Lushan (Yamamura So), a
warrior, introduces him to the daughter (Kyo Machiko) of the house of Yang.
The Emperor calls her Kwei-fei and makes her a princess.
This is the story ofYang Kwei-fei, the most beautiful woman in Chinese history.
Kwei-fei's eldest cousin, Yang Kuo-chung is made Prime Minister and her three
sisters are also given important positions. They all live in luxury. But Yang Kuo-
chung is a bad Prime Minister and the people are outraged. An Lushan is
unhappy about being the ruler's representative and he informs Kwei-fei of this.
The Emperor is suspicious of the relationship between Kwei-fei and An Lushan.
He returns Kwei-fei to the house ofYang, but finding he cannot live without her,
summons her back. Meanwhile the people's resentment against the arbitrary
Figuf
Pictui
rule of Yang Kuo-chung and his family builds up, and this anger is turned
against Kwei-fei. An Lushan takes advantage of this discontent to lead a rebel
lion against the Emperor. The capital falls into the hands of rebel troops and the
Emperor and Kwei-fei are caught. The people demand that the Emperor kill
Kwei-fei but he is unwilling to do so. Instead, Kwei-fei commits suicide. The
Emperor, who has lost his throne, dies yearning for a glimpse of his princess.
This film is an excellent example of Mizoguchi's understanding of the traditional

arts. However, since he had insufficient historical material, the recreation of
ancient Chinese customs is not just imaginary, it comes across like an unreal
painting. Though Mizoguchi took the help of a Chinese in writing the script and
making corrections to suit the times, the film still lacked a Chinese ambience.
Mizoguchi put all his strength into the love story of the Emperor and Kwei-fei.
Scenes like the one when the Emperor and Kwei-fei walk in disguise among the
people during a festival are most romantically shot; but the story never goes
beyond a syrupy, sentimental melodrama. Japanese critics judged it as completely
lacking in the intensity that had been the hallmark of Mizoguchi's other films.
Princess YangKwei-fei was not rated highly in Japan, but film-makers and critics
in Europe and America saw it as a work of great importance. Since we in Japan are
familiar with Eastern clothes, objects and rich colours, we don't see them as par
ticularly striking, but this exoticism might have held an appeal for others.
Around the time this film was made, Nagata Masakazu, the president of Daiei,
began to nurse hopes of building up an export market for Japanese films. Interest
had already been created by the Grand Prix won by Rashomon and Gate ofHell.
Nagata advocated the idea of participating in Asian film festivals, and made con
crete plans for exporting to Asian markets. The collaboration with the Hong Kong
producer Run Run Shaw was an important first step. Nagata felt that exoticism was
Japan's best tool for increasing its film export.
Mizoguchi agreed with Nagata. He chose for his film his much-loved theme of
lovers' devotion and clothed it in the exotic. However, the rejection of history for
the sake of a pure love story turned it into a hackneyed exercise.
Taira Clan Saga
I believe Mizoguchi brought a burning passion to his film Taira Clan Saga. The
original work, a very long novel by Yoshikawa Eiji, was then a best-seller. Daiei
thought of turning it into a series and Mizoguchi directed the first film. In the mag
azine, Asahi Weekly (Shukan asahi), where the original work was serialized,
Mizoguchi wrote:
I have been happy looking at art and am the sort who enjoys looking up historical
events. This is not the difficult part. Making the film according to what has been
planned is. Particularly if all the members of the team do not bring the same passion
and interest to it, for it is a cooperative team effort. The first concern is to din this into
the heads of the crew.
Reflections on Taim Clan Saga (10 August 1955)
Mizoguchi put all his energy into rediscovering twelfth-century Japan, which is
when the film is set. That period was a turning point, a time when political
authority was transferred from the ancient Imperial court to samurai leadership.
Earlier, the nobility itself would lead troops into battle, a practice that was soon
discontinued. Noblemen turned to social matters, leaving the fighting to their sub
ordinates, the samurai. The samurai gradually increased their control and by the
twelfth century they had seized political power from their rulers.
The first samurai to establish their political authority was the leader of the house of the
Heike, Taira Kiyomori (IchikawaRaizo). The film shows Kiyomori's early years - how
ii i
the nobility despised him as a samurai and how he built up his self-confidence. With
military power in samurai hands, it should have been easy for them to seize political
power from the nobility, who were well versed only in the literary arts and social
graces. However, the samurai had first to rid themselves of the notion that they were
lower and meaner human beings than the nobility. Taira Kiyomori was the first samurai
to succeed in this.
One day Kiyomori learns that his mother, an entertainer {shirabyoshi) of Gion
(Kogure Michiyo), had been made pregnant by the retired Emperor, Go Shirakawa,
who had given her away as a wife to Tadamori (Gya Ichijiro). Kiyomori respects his
father, the loyal Tadamori who has quietly carried out his duties as a leader of the
samurai, in spite of the poor award he has received. When Kiyomori is told by his
mother, 'You are Go Shirakawa's son,' he replies evenly, 'I am Taira Tadamori's son.'
Kiyomori's heart is filled with greater pride at being a samurai (a despised lot though
they are), than at being told that he is the Emperor's secret child.
It was customary for the monks of Hieizan to make an ostentation of the religious
privileges they had been given by the Imperial court. Sometimes they would come out
in a group and use violence to get what they wanted. To keep their opponents at bay,
they would carry a mikoshi (palanquin of a Shinto god) with their sacred image. In a
fight between these monks and the samurai of the Heike house, Kiyomori stands boldly
in front of the mikoshi the monks are carrying, strings an arrow into his bow and before
the surprised monks and samurai, shoots it through the divine mirror {goshintai - the
divine image). With one stroke he destroys the mystical power of the mikoshi and levels
the special powers of the monks. After that it is was a general rout.
The nobility has no idea that their power is declining rapidly. In one scene they are
shown sporting elegantly in an open field bathed in a serene light. Kiyomori's mother
is with them and the nobles flirt with her. Looking down on this scene, Kiyomori is
confident that the samurai's time will soon come.
In the climactic scene where Kiyomori fires an arrow into the mikoshi, Ichikawa
Raizo gives a truly brilliant performance. It is his role and its cold demeanour that
gives this work the feel of a Mizoguchi film. On the whole, though, Taira Clan Saga
is fairly boring. Mizoguchi kept postponing the shooting of the climax even though
several hundred extras, all ready and dressed, were milling around or being forced
to wait on Hieizan. He would just not give the order to begin shooting. Instead, he
asked Yoda to decide whether the scene should be shot or not, saying jokingly,
'Since you wrote the script for this please give the order for shooting.' It seems he
was apprehensive that the film would be criticized for posing a challenge to the
authority of the Emperor system (the mirror - goshintai - in the mikoshi is the
symbol of the religious authority of the Imperial house). Yoda argued that the entire
story was structured to work up to this climax, and it was impossible now to sud
denly change it and substitute it with another. In the end, Mizoguchi shot the scene.
Mizoguchi's apprehensions proved baseless. No one raised any objections when
the film was released. Yoshikawa Eiji, the writer of the original work, was a well-
known, conservative writer but because he was writing in the environment of post
war democracy, he brought in, even if to a small degree, a progressive historical
vision. There was no question of any problem as no one ever imagined that the
book could be construed as a challenge to the authority of the Emperor system,
and neither was this scene considered a challenge.
Nevertheless, this episode shows how deeply the authority of the Emperor
system had percolated into the hearts of the Japanese; it is an indication of
Mizoguchi's diffident nature which surfaced occasionally. At times he could be a
pitiless tyrant, at other times extraordinarily timid. When he made Metropolitan
Symphony (1929), a radical proletarian film, he was worried it would anger the
censors. It is said he was actually scared about going to the censor's office alone.
And yet, he made a number of anti-establishment films and contributed to the
development of Japanese cinema. He even went on a reconnaissance trip to China
during the Second World War to make a propaganda film for the Army, though in
the end it was not made. Some works, such as The Story of the Late
Chysanthemums and Chushingura, were close to being classified as conservative,
but he never made an outright reactionary film. At first, he was too timid to make
a filmthat wouldchallenge the authorityof the Emperor system, but he did end up
overcoming his diffidence by constantly battling with himself.
Taira Clan Saga was the first Japanese film to show the Emperor as a character
(of course he is a retired Emperor) and this caused a scandal. Oya Ichijiro, who
plays Kiyomori's father, Tadamori, the old, industrious samurai who goes quietly
to his death, performs with great zest in the scene before Kiyomori shoots the
mikoshi. Natsume Shunji, who plays the retired Emperor, Toba, a supporter of
Kiyomori, also gives a very spirited performance in the few scenes in which he
appears. There are other memorable sequences in the film as well. Made on the
scale of an epic poem, Taira Clan Saga is a much finer film than Princess Yang
Kwei-fei, but it is still not one of Mizoguchi's best. It is more in the class of
Princess Yang Kwei-fei for, taken as whole, its artistic style never crystallizes as it
did in Chushingura or The Life of Oharu.
In a period film, action and battle scenes are what normally attract the viewer.
But in all his period films Mizoguchi hardly ever shot any action or battle scenes,
with the exception of Miyamoto Musashi (1944). He made a sloppy job of it,
perhaps because he shot it during the tumultuous, end-of-the-war days. He is
reported to have said while filming Chushingura that making scenes of killing in
a realistic way was a useless exercise.
Taira Clan Saga is based on the samurai class's assumption of power. Even here,
Mizoguchi did not shoot any battle scenes. He seems to have let down his viewers
who had expected to see a grand spectacle. Perhaps he was far more interested in
the conflict of ideas rather than in action and battle.
The film was made at a time when the Japanese film industry was in good finan
cial health. Mizoguchi could have had any kind of sets he wanted. There was an
abundant supply of extras, so smooth-flowing shots were extensively used in the

crowd scenes. But he was never able to bring out the beauty inherent in the actions
of a brave and heroic figure. This did not bother him, though; he was a director
who excelled in portraying the resistance of the weak.
Street ofShame
With the making of Street ofShame (1956), Mizoguchi once again returned to the
world of prostitutes. Scripted by Narusawa Masashige, Mizoguchi's childhood
friend, the film's story was set in the days before Yoshiwara, the red-light district
in Tokyo, was closed down and prostitution was legally abolished. Narusawa, who
used to share a place with Mizoguchi, had followed him into films and learned a
great deal from him. He was the son of a merchant from Ueda in Shinshu, the old
fief of Mizoguchi's elder sister's husband, the Viscount Matsudaira's family. His
father had business with the Matsudairas and he visited their home frequently.
When Narusawa decided that he wanted to enter the film world, he was placed in
Mizoguchi's care. He became an assistant director for Chushingura. In 1947 he
became a scriptwriter, and in 1953 was noticed for his script of Toyoda Shiro's
Wild Goose. Narsusawa assisted Yoda with the scripts of The Woman in the
Rumour, Princess Yang Kwei-fei and Taira Clan Saga. Mizoguchi wanted
Narusawa to help Yoda with the script of Street ofShame as well, but Yoda refused.
He explained why:
Before I was asked to write the script, I was told by some people to please be patient
about Street ofShame. The reason is that the script for Princess YangKwei-fei had not
been liked in Tokyo. Prior to that, I had also done Women ofthe Night, but even though
I tried my best, it did not make for a good film. {Mizoguchi Kenji no hito to geijutsu)
After this, Yoda plunged into the script of Osaka Stoiy, based on Ihara Saikaku's
novel which Mizoguchi subsequently brought to the screen.
Narusawa finally wrote the script for Street ofShame alone. He borrowed a part
of it from the novel The Susaki Paradise (Susaki paradisu) by Shibaki Yoshiko.
As Mizoguchi's disciple, he was particularly suited to write the scripts for
women-based films. He was in his element writing emotional works. In Street of
Shame he followed Mizoguchi's instructions and aimed at making it realistic. It
contained a severe social indictment as well. According to Yoda, Mizoguchi had,
of late, become a relaxed, fairly uncritical old granddad, but Narusawa says that
working on Street ofShame was a hellish experience. He was always on the sets
during the shoot, with Mizoguchi constantly ordering him to make changes in the
script.
Figure 29 Street ofShame (1956), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc.
The film is about women in a brothel, 'Village of Dreams' (Yume no sato), in the
Yoshiwarared-light district of Tokyo, when the anti-prostitution draft bill was raised in
the Diet and voted down. The couple who run the place (Shindo Eitaro and Sawamura
Sadako) are always fighting about what they will do when the law is passed and they
have to shut shop.They are adamantin their belief that their professiondoes not in any
way oppress women. Rather, they argue, it supports poor women who would not be able
to survive in any other way.
Hanae (Kogure Michiko), a middle-aged woman who suffers from pulmonary tuber
culosis, comes to this brothel while her unemployed husband looks after their child.
The husband praises Hanae's friend, Yorie (Machida Hiroko), who wants to give up
prostitution. Unthinkingly, he says, 'Prostitutes are the dregs of mankind.' Listening
quietly, Hanae is filled with complex emotions. Her husband, she knows, has given up
hope and tried to commit suicide; she herself has been supporting this weak, worthless
hanger-on. But she is determined to survive. She wonders what will happen to a society
that crucifies honest people like her.
The story's fierce spirit captures the spineless character of a weak-willed man, and
the will to live of a tyrannized woman who ultimately transcends him. It is comparable
to the wonderful climax we saw in The Straits ofLove and Hate and And Yet They Go.
Mikki (Kyo Machiko) is the sensuous daughter of a bourgeois. She becomes a pros
titute following a fight with her father who has been grieving over the death of her
mother. When her father comes to see her, she says, 'Try holding me, I am a very
sensual woman.' Her father is shocked out of his mind.
After he fails in business, Oharu's father in Saikaku's TheLifeofOharu quite shame

lessly asks his daughter to become a prostitute. Osaka Elegy also has a despicable
father. The theme of the abject father is an important one in Mizoguchi's work.
Yasumi (Wakao Ayako), sacrifices herself for the sake of her father, a corrupt Diet
member, and becomes a prostitute in order to get the money for her father's bail. She
believes she is justified in tricking men and making money in a materialistic and patri
archal society. She entices a stockbroker, cheats him, then throws him out. The angry
stockbroker plans to kill her but is arrested. With her savings, Yasumi buys a clothes
shop. Her character resembles the heroines of Osaka Elegy and Sisters ofthe Gion.
Yumeko (Mimasu Aiko), a mature, beautiful woman has left middle school and is
working. She has a grown-up son and her one dream is to live with him. One day the
son, who has come from the village, is shocked to see her talking obscenely with a
client. Ashamed, he leaves her and the crushed Yumeko loses her mind.
This sad and depressing story of the ugly world of prostitutes is very different from
the colourful world of The Life of Oharu; it is a world that survives till today. The
film came as a shock for most people for they knew that around this time Chieko,
Mizoguchi's wife, had lost her mental balance and was confined to an institution.
A number of motifs that Mizoguchi had used earlier reappear briefly in Street of
Shame. Among the memorable ones is a scene at the end where, in the dreary
wasteland of an industrial town, Yumeko is called by her son and repeatedly
insulted, and the bond between mother and child is broken. Another is the scene
when the young girl (Kawakami Yasuko), who has newly arrived from the village
to become a prostitute, tries to solicit a customer for the first time. She stands in
front of a shop, mortified. The last scene shows her at the sink, letting the water
run over her head. All these are expressions of Mizoguchi's unique style of pre
senting a cruel world without resorting to overt brutality, yet leaving an indelible
impact.
Mizoguchi's women, no matter how terrible their situation, live with great
courage; the men, on the contrary are low and contemptible. In Street of Shame
Mizoguchi deals in an unforgettable way with the themes that obsessed him all his
life.
The film was completed and released in March 1956. Two months later, in May,
the law abolishing prostitution was passed in the Diet. It came into effect the fol
lowing year.
Death of Mizoguchi
Immediately after Street of Shame Mizoguchi began preparing for Osaka Story.
Yoda first wrote the complete script and, as usual, Mizoguchi began by whittling it
down. This time the criticism was severe and even Yoda, who was used the
director's censure, was reduced to tears. However, during the many discussions
that took place while revising the script, it suddenly struck Yoda that Mizoguchi's
intensity never lasted more than three hours. Soon, Mizoguchi had to be hospital
ized. He was not told, but he had been diagnosed with incurable leukaemia. Many
of his friends and disciples, who knew of this, came to visit him. Yoda, who had
gone to see him in the hospital, writes:
He would become feverish every evening, and when he was told that this is how his
illness was, he came close to tears and he said, 'I can't bear it, it's hell.'
I was startled, thinking he was talking about fighting his fear of death and said,
'There is nothing to worry about.'
'You are saying that, but it isn't like that,' he replied.
'If there is anything we can do, don't hesitate, just ask,' I said, my heart tightening,
restraining the tears welling up in my eyes. Mizoguchi, who was seated cross-legged
on a mat on the floor, sat up, folded his knees under him and, putting his hands on his
knees, he said, 'Thank you for everything.' I was so surprised that without thinking I
drew back my legs that were resting on a chair. I never knew what he meant by the
statement - was it that he was preparing to die? Were these parting words of regret to
me? Or was he thanking me for doing a good job over the years? Or only for what I had
done since he was admitted to hospital? {Mizoguchi Kenji no hito to geijutsu)
Mizoguchi Kenji died in the Kyoto Municipal Hospital on 24 August 1956. His
wife, Chieko, who had exerted a great influence on his films, and who matched
him in their explosive fights which sometimes resembled mortal hand-to-hand
combat, died much later, in 1975.
Mizoguchi's elder sister, Matsudaira Suzu, died in 1981, at the age of eighty-
five, her husband Matsudaira Tadamasa having passed away in 1963. She spent the
last years of her life with her daughter, Kawakatsu Kyoko. She lived a happy life,
surrounded by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Two months before her
death, I had presented an NHK programme, 'The Cinematic Expression of the
Masters: Mizoguchi Kenji'. She saw it and she said, 'I don't like this because I am
always discussed whenever they discuss Ken-chan.'
During the difficult days after the war, when the Matsudaira house was col
lapsing, Suzu once asked Mizoguchi for financial help. He refused, writing in a
letter, 'Respected Elder Sister - Man originally came with nothing, these are the
words of the Buddhist priest.' All Suzu said was, 'Is that so?' She had spent her
whole life helping her parents, her younger brothers and the children, working in
a Nihonbashi geisha house, attending to the physically disabled, going so far as to
care for them in her own house, always thinking about others, never about herself.
-11-
The Dialectic of Camera and Performance
Ône Scene-One Shot'
The technique known as the 'one scene-one shot' is a distinctive characteristic of

Mizoguchi's direction. He eschewed, as far as he could, the close-up, and mainly
used the long or the full shot.
'One scene-one shot' meant that the scene is filmed in one take, without inter
ruption. A normal one-and-a-halfto two-hour film has between 100 and 120 scenes,
each scene being composed of a number of shots. A film normally has between 500
and 800 shots. If two people are in a conversation, for instance, each is shot alter
nately, and where the camera pulls back, a long shot is used to give a sense of the
whole scene. At an important moment, a close-up is used to show the expression of
the speaker or the listener. This is a normal technique in film-making.
When Mizoguchi joined the Nikkatsu Mukojima Studio as an assistant director,
Japanese films were at their formative stage and had just begun to experiment with
these techniques. The 'one scene-one shot' approach did not seem strange - it was
like shooting a play by letting a fixed camera run continuously. However, in a few
years - mainly because of the influence of American films - shots began to be
finely divided. Film technology also developed rapidly so that by the latter half of
the 1920s, it was not unusual to find a one-and-a-half-hour film composed of about
1,000 shots. In silent films, because complex expressions were limited by what
could be put in the inter-titles, it was necessary to exaggerate every expression and
movement. If there were several shots, it was easier to bring out a rhythmic flow
while editing.
The theory of montage, developed by Sergei Eisenstein, became a significant
cinema aesthetic towards the end of the 1920s, and montage attained the status of
a dogma among a section of influential critics. This meant that the artistic unique
ness of a film was now seen in the way a number of different shots were linked.
In the 1920s, Mizoguchi, too, worked within this general trend. His oldest
existing work consists of fragments of the 1929 Tokyo March, which has a scene
of a middle-class house on a hill with a tennis court. Below the walls of the house
is a poor man's hut. The son of the bourgeois hits the ball over the wall and the
poor man's daughter throws it back. Mizoguchi uses the shot-reverse-shot to con
trast the lives of the bourgeois and the poor.
143
Figure 30 Tokyo March (1929).
However, somewhere along the way, he began to dislike both the shot-reverse-
shot and the close-up, and began favouring the 'one scene-one shot' where he
moved the camera back from the object being photographed.
In an article, 'The Art of Mizoguchi Kenji' (Mizoguchi Kenji no geijutsu) in A
Personal History of Film (Watashi no eigashi 1955, Ikeda publishers), Kishi
Matsuo quotes from an interview done during the filming of The Life of Oharu,
where he questions Mizoguchi about his methods:
Kishi: This time also it is very much in the Mizoguchi style of 'one scene-one shot'.
When did you start filming in this way? It is really overdone in Sisters of the Gion
Mizoguchi: Is that so? But I have been using it for a long time, since Okichi the
Foreigner in which Umemura Yoko appeared. At that time Ikenaga's father (the
studio chief) got angry with me. (Laughs)
Kishi: Really? But when Sisters of the Gion was made, wasn't it popular to use a long
shot with a moving camera? It was the influence of King Vidor.
Mizoguchi: That is so, but a friend of mine, Naito Kojiro, influenced me. Kojiro is the
son of Professor Naito Konan (historian) who is probably still a professor in some
university. Kojiro, who studied psychology, was an extraordinary man. He was
trying to see how to use touch and smell as forms of expression in films. It was he
who led me to think about some of these things. The 'psychological weight' on the
viewer varies, depending on how many 'one scene-one shot' type of shots are
The Dialectic of Camera and Performance • 145
repeated in quick succession, or how they are divided into a number of shot-reverse-
shots. If you use a succession of quick cuts, then somehow there will always be a
cut that you didn't want. It is a huge mistake to think that just because it is short it
is good. Perhaps I haven't explained it properly but ... it is my way of replying ...
In any case, it was around that time that I began to study the 'one scene-one shot'
method. There are quite a few problems with this method as well. It can be quite a
disaster to rattle along, filming without any shot-reverse-shots.
Just as Ozu Yasujiro has given no satisfactory explanation for his famous use of
low-angle shots Mizoguchi, too, has left no real explanation about why he uses the
'one scene-one shot' method. Nor has Yoda Yoshikata, who wrote scripts for
Mizoguchi for so many years. With regard to Chushingura, Yoda writes that on one
occasion while they were having a meal together, he asked Mizoguchi about it and
Mizoguchi replied, 'I don't know. Never thought about it like that,' but he looked
like he had been cornered.
Yoda thought the one scene-one shot made it possible, even in a long scene, to
keep a person moving towards the camera, to keep him in the frame. The camera
could move towards the person, and if there was a slight change of direction, it
could pan. By moving with the person it would add speed to his movement, all
within that one shot. Similarly, with a group of people, the camera could move into
the group, or away from it or, depending on their positions, could attempt more
complex ways of shooting. A variety of shots could be sustained within one shot -
the full body, medium shot (half the body) and a tilt-up. By weaving these shots
together, one could show changes in speed and rhythm even for slow and monot
onous movements. During this shot, the camera is kept at a slight angle and both
it and the person coming towards the camera, move. This is what Miyagawa
Kazuo, the cinematographer for all of Mizoguchi's films after 1953, said he con
sciously tried to do. As director of photography, he made Hirano Yoshimi, the cam
eraman for The Life ofOharu, use them as well. From Yoda's writing it is clear that
Mizoguchi had carefully considered the effects of the camera's movements, but he
offered no other explanation apart from the interview with Kishi.
At this point we may consider the meaning of the statement 'the length of the
shot has an emotional weight'. If a scene changes very frequently, say every few
seconds, it can appear frivolous. On the other hand, if it is shot continuously over a
length of time, it risks becoming heavy. This has to do with the nature of the drama
unfolding in the film as well. In films such as Alfred Hitchcock's Rope, there is no
sense of heaviness even though the entire film, from start to finish, is shot without
a cut. Others, like Eisenstein's Battleship Potemkin, is divided into many detailed
shots, yet leaves us with a feeling of solemnity. Undoubtedly, if the same object is
being shot continuously, then greater concentration is demanded of the viewer.
In Osaka Elegy (1936), the one scene-one shot method is already fully devel
oped and extensively used. More interesting is the fact that the film was almost
exclusively made up of long shots.The close-up is used only when the female pro
tagonist, Ayako, who is frustrated with her family, leaves home. This is shot with
the camera moving back as she crosses the bridge towards the town. At first she is
fully visible, but as she approaches the camera only her upper body is seen. This
is the only close-up among the film's long shots.
Normally, a close-up is used to show highly charged emotions. Mizoguchi could
have used it in the scene where Ayako plots to cheat the stockbroker and threatens
him, or at some other emotionally laden moments. But he does not. Instead, he
pulls the camera far back to show the complete scene. The camera looks down dis
passionately at Ayako and the figure of the angry stockbroker sitting next to her
with his back to the camera. Again, in scenes when the used and discarded heroine
has fallen into despair, other film-makers would have moved the camera back to
show her face getting gradually smaller, as if to symbolize the big world swal
lowing her up, as if to bring out the general hopelessness of the situation. But the
only time Mizoguchi uses the close-up is when he wants to confirm the protago
nist's determination to exercise her will.
Mizoguchi depicts in a cool and composed way the predicament in which an
unthinking young woman finds herself - a woman who works single-mindedly for
her family, but owing to her carelessness does something unimaginably stupid. At
the very moment when she leaves her home, declaring that she will become a pros
titute, Mizoguchi uses a tilt-up to show his heroine's face. For all her outrageous
use of language, what really propels her is this great determination to become
independent. Far from showing her in a dissolute state, Mizoguchi brings out the
beauty of her cheerful countenance.
The Straits of Love and Hate (1937) has a number of 'one-scene one-shot'
scenes. Take, for instance, the scene where the heroine, who has joined a travelling
theatre group, is practising in a small village theatre. The poor condition of the
stage bespeaks their poverty. The camera is to the side of the stage where the
dancers are rehearsing in a somewhat half-hearted way. It shows the hall, with a
few viewers seated in old-fashioned chairs. The one scene-one shot is used beau
tifully to bring out - through the movement of the camera - the highs and lows of
the travelling theatre group as they practise.
A moving shot is one that builds up expectations of what is to come into view.
But it can also temper our expectations of the performers as they move about
without arousing any excitement, and thus create a strong air of pathos.
As a stylistic method, the one shot-one scene was perfected in The Story of the
Late Chrysanthemums, and used with the most stunning results. For instance, the
long dialogue in the course of which Otoku declares that Kikunosuke has matured
as an artist, is shown with the two of them strolling together along the edge of the
moat at night. As they wander in front of the eaves of the houses, discussing, the
long moving shot is taken from a camera placed, not on the road, but in the moat.
It looks up at them from an angle. There is no semblance of a romantic ambience
in the man and a woman walking in the city at night, arms linked, because the
woman belongs to a low class and is criticizing her employer's son, and naturally
the man is objecting to this. They stroll along aimlessly and the moving camera
follows them at the same speed, getting the viewer to focus his attention on the
two. And just as Otoku's words penetrate Kikunosuke's heart, so too, do they pen
etrate the viewer's.
Picturization Style
In Chushingura (1941-2), Mizoguchi makes a comprehensive use of the one

scene- one shot and the long shot. The film's two parts taken together make up a
very long three-hour, thirty-five-minute film. Yet the entire film has only about 160
shots. This means that on an average, one shot is about one minute, twenty seconds
long. Usually, an average shot lasts about ten seconds, but Mizoguchi's shots are
unusually long. There are many scenes of small rooms, as in Street of Shame,
where even though it was difficult to move the camera, the 80-plus minute film has
just 139 shots.
The one single shot in Alfred Hitchcock's Rope, is supposed to be the longest
recorded shot. But because it was technically impossible to roll a film for more
than ten minutes, the camera was moved to a dark comer of the room and covered
to change the film. It was then moved back to its original place and the shot was
continued as if the camera had not been moved at all. The next longest shot is in
Jerzy Skolimovski's film. Walkover, which had thirty-five shots. Oshima Nagisa's
Night and Fog in Japan used forty-three shots. There are also onescene-one shot
films made by film-makers like Andy Warhol, who used a fixed camera to shoot a
subject that did not move for many hours. He changed the film several times
without once moving the camera. Therefore, there is nothing special about the
length of Mizoguchi's shots. He has set no records. The way in which he used the
long shot was essential in bringing all the aspects of a scene together: the tension
of the actors, the set, the brilliance of the light, etc. The skilful movement of the
camera gathers it all into a harmonious whole. No one has so far surpassed him in
his uniquely individualistic use of the camera. In Chushingura this works particu
larly well.
Chushingura is the famous story of the revenge of the forty-seven ronin
(master-less warriors). Sundry films have been made on this subject, but
Mizoguchi chose the great play Chusingura of the Genroku Period, by Mayama
Seika, as his base. He made the fihn intermittently between 1931 and 1941, and
was far more historically faithful to the original story than others. Oishi
Kuranosuke, the leader of the forty-seven ronin, hesitates to take revenge because
in a feudal society taking revenge for the sake of one's lord (daimyo) is tantamount
to being disloyal to the Emperor. This is a new interpretation. One of the high
points of the story is that Oishi is secretly told of the Emperor's approval.
Overjoyed, he is now determined to act on his decision. Mizoguchi's attempt to
ingratiate himself with the militarists through this new twist to the story was quite
pathetic.
Throughout his life Mizoguchi pursued the theme of the woman's sanctity, her
suppression and her subsequent inner transformation; the man, all the while,
remained his own insufferable self. But Chushingura, with its theme of a warrior's
loyalty, is very different. As one of the top directors in the world, Mizoguchi
seemed to have been compelled to make propaganda films on the war. He tried, but
as an artist, he could not bring himself to churn out a run-of-the-mill film. Hence
his decision to make a film that was something of a compromise with the militarist
policies of the wartime government, and to use the story based on Mayama Seika's
version. While glorifying loyalty, revenge and the spirit of honourable death, Seika
had added an episode showing Oishi Kuranosuke's distress caused by his fervent
loyalty to the Imperial house.
Mizoguchi did not film the raid, which is the well-known climax of the story of
the forty-seven ronin. Even while he supported the policies of the state, he was
careful to eliminate any hint of advocacy. One can see this work as a small artistic
compromise. The amount of money spent in making it was unprecedented. Huge
sets were constructed and shooting continued for long periods with no thought
given to the expense. There was only one aim: to achieve the desired effect. Yet, its
enormous budget notwithstanding, the film failed both at the box office and as a
propaganda film. My mother took me to see it when I was in primary school and
I still remember how disappointed she was that it did not have the scene of the raid.
Mizoguchi may have left this out because he did not feel confident enough to make
it. In fact it was planned, but even as the sets for the Kira mansion were being
made, it seems he remarked, T will not film a lie,' and stopped the work. After the
war, directors such as Kurosawa Akira in Rashomon and Seven Samurai, or
Yoshimura Kozaburo in Waltz at Noon, found ways to film realistic fight scenes.
But when Mizoguchi filmed Chushingura, the fight scenes were always one-sided,
unrealistic and artificial, and hence his decision not to shoot them.
It was not just a simple compromise that led him to create this masterpiece.
Mizoguchi had given considerable thought to developing his cinematic style. If the
subject here is relatively weak, the style is unsurpassed. Usually, films with plenty
of style and little content are dismissed as failures. Chushingura was irrefutably
Mizoguchi's greatest failure. Many of its aspects - subject, characters, action - fail
to evoke any interest. And yet, you cannot but laud the exquisite beauty of the
style, particularly the camerawork which, for its haunting elegance, is unequalled
in the history of cinema. There are not many examples of films that can move
people with just their style. Chushingura, I believe, is definitely one.
This was a time when period sets were constructed to actual size, and the term
'Actual Size-ism' (gensunshugi) was coined, a word that Mizoguchi used to suit his
own purpose. Since he did not understand the 'way of the warrior' (bushido), he
focused his attention on investigating customs and manners and became passion
ately involved in shaping the forms through which they were represented.
There is no denying that 'shaping the form' is everything in this work. If the
'way of the warrior' is perceived as loyalty to the shogun, then clearly Mizoguchi
did not 'grasp' this in Chushingura. But if we were to change our perspective
slightly, we would understand that the 'way of the warrior' also means doing one's
daily work with great care and attention to detail. If we accept this premise, then
Chushingura, in my view, exquisitely captures this 'way'. Mizoguchi's inability to
grasp its ideological aspects and instead focus single-mindedly on 'arranging the
form', allowed him to capture the manners and behaviour of warriors, and show
them with solemn precision, better than in any other period film. The beauty of the
warrior who lives and acts with great attention to the correct way of doing things
was masterfully conveyed. But as far as the subject of this story was concerned -
loyalty and revenge - Mizoguchi failed to evoke a response. In fact, the audience
was bored.
For those who saw this work as merely stressing the outward form through its
'Actual Size-ism', Chushingura was an outright failure. It was a failure in the
1940s, when it was easy to move people through the theme of loyalty; and it is
even more of a failure today, when loyalty is viewed as an old-fashioned sentiment.
But 'arranging the form' is not just formalism, even if it appearsto be so. The fact
is that when 'something to live for' is given a human face through 'arranging the
form', the beauty of the style itself affects people emotionally. This can be used to
show not just warriors, but merchants, peasants and geisha as well. Each in his
own way has a specific way of being and behaving, ways that are regulated and
transmitted over generations. This is what Mizoguchi brought out beautifully in his
later years in a series of masterpieces: The Life of Oharu, Ugetsu, Sansho the
Bailiffand A Story from Chikamatsu.
The concept of loyalty in Chushingura, as complex as the concept of democ
racy, became the theme of a series of masterpieces made in post-war Japan. For
instance in The Life of Oharu, sensuality - the subject of the original work - is
changed to women's freedom. Ugetsu, where the motif in the original work is the
relationship with the world of death, adds an anti-war theme, at complete variance
with the original. In Sansho the Bailiff the Buddhist worldview of the original
story, which had survived in Mori Ogai's novel, was erased and replaced with the
new ideology of people's liberation. And where the original story of A Story from
Chikamatsu is an ill-fated tragedy, in the adaptation it is interpreted as a modern
story on the supremacy of love.
In all these films such subjects have been dealt with because post-war Japan saw
the rise of democratic thought. Twenty years after they were made, they continue
to be powerful works, despite their naive, if well-intentioned objectives, and
despite the fact that the additions of contemporary elements to the original story
are occasionally inconsistent, even too ideological. A Storyfrom Chikamatsu is an
excellent example. In The Life of Oharu, though, it is not easy to accept that the
heroine willingly sacrifices herself to the desires of a man when in fact she is not
a passionate woman at all in the original. For all that, one can hardly call The Life
of Oharu a failure and A Story from Chikamatsu a success. The Life ofOharu is a
timeless work of art.
How can a work be a masterpiece when its subject has not been properly inte
grated into the story? Because by 'arranging the form', these films have reached
the highest level of art. They represent a series of moments of sublime beauty.
One of the highlights in Sansho the Bailiffis the scene of Anju with the pitcher.
The young Anju has decided that she is willing to die to help Zushio escape - a
wonderful example of respect for behavioural propriety. Yet another masterly scene
is when Zushio is reunited with his blind mother in Sado. Zushio has fulfilled his
dead father's and Anju's wishes by freeing the slaves. Forsaking the great success
he has enjoyed in life, he returns to look for his mother. His act epitomizes the
right way of living and carrying forward a tradition. There are other similar scenes
as well, but in these two instances, Mizoguchi - from what I can remember - has
maintained a very slow tempo and succeeded in endowing the notion of 'arranging
the form' with the majestic beauty of a religious ceremony. If his film has a scene
of suicide, that scene is not merely shocking, if it has a reunion of mother and son.
it is not just deeply emotional. There is something more. Slowly, very slowly, he
arranges the movements of the actors with immense grace to prove how an indi
vidual can control the most important moments of his life.
The female protagonist in The Life of Oharu falls from her position of a maid
in the Imperial Palace to that of a streetwalker (lit. nighthawk). To the outside
world her life appears wretched, but she refuses to surrender her sense of pride and
human dignity. Pride, perhaps, is a modern idea that may not be quite appropriate
for those times; but if pride is interpreted to mean will, then it is definitely appro
priate. The protagonist faces a string of problems, yet typically retains her compo
sure; nor does she place herself at the mercy of fate and weep; rather, she puts her
problems behind her and moves on. Mizoguchi puts a great deal of effort into
'arranging the form' through the way he shows her face at such moments. The
beauty of The Life of Oharu goes beyond the subject of the equality between the
sexes (unimaginable in the feudal period); it is partly influenced by the post-war
democratic climate.
'Arranging the form' was fundamental to Mizoguchi's film-making. Even when
he failed to 'grasp' the subject, this 'arrangement of the form' transcended external
beauty to convey something else.
Artistry of Mizutani Hiroshi's Sets
A major element in 'arranging the form' is the art of set construction. Mizutani
Hiroshi made most of the sets for Mizoguchi's masterpieces. He was only twenty-
seven when he worked on Sisters of the Gion, going on to make the sets for The
Jinpu Gang, The Straits ofLove and Hate, The Story ofthe Late Chrysanthemums,
Osaka Elegy, Chushingura, Women of the Night, Lady Yu, The Life of Oharu, The
Woman in the Rumour, Princess Yang Kwei-fei, Taira Clan Saga, A Story from
Chikamatsu, Street ofShame and others.
Ito Kisaku was the artistic director for Mizoguchi's films from Ugetsu to
Sansho the Bailiff They had a good deal of trouble while shooting The Life of
Oharu. Hirakata Park, the building in Osaka's Hirakata district that they used, was
in a terrible state. Mizoguchi was upset and blamed Mizutani, saying he had
'cheated' him. But, unable to do without Mizutani, he brought him back for
Woman in the Rumour. Mizutani's sets were made like theatrical stages, posing
problems for cameraman Miyagawa Kazuo. Sansho the Bailiff hsid an open set
and Sansho's mansion showed the slaves at work in the 18,000 sq ft garden. A rail
to move the camera was laid in front of this garden and the camera pointed to the
far side so that later, whether they shot from the left or the right, it was obvious
that it was a set. We are told that Mizutani would be smiling as he sat next to the
cameraman who would be shouting with rage as he moved the camera along the
rail.
A director needs to hold a discussion with the artistic director before beginning
his shoot. Mizoguchi would neither take a prior look at the plans, nor make a pre
liminary inspection of the sets. Once he arrived on the sets he would make utterly
unreasonable demands. Not wanting to face any problems, the artistic director, too,
tried to fashion the sets in keeping with Mizoguchi's expectations. Mizutani
Hiroshi, in particular, put up with the director's style of working and after reading
the script, would come up with an unimaginably beautiful set. So, either way, it
worked to Mizoguchi's advantage.
It is the artistic director who arranges the plans of what action takes place and
where, where the camera will be placed, etc. He explains all this in detail to the
director. This is what happened with Mizoguchi too. In all three films - The Story
ofthe Late Chrysanthemums^ Women ofthe Night and The Life ofOharu - there is
a moat, a rock and an embankment. The actors perform while standing on them;
the camera is placed below, tilting upwards - a position I feel was typical of
Mizoguchi. However, Mizoguchi himself never positioned the camera. Since it was
used differently in all three films, who was it who decided the camera position?
Perhaps it was Mizutani Hiroshi, but we do not know for sure.
There is a famous scene in The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums where the
camera is in the moat, pointing upwards to the road where Kikunosuke and Otoku,
who have come close to each other for the first time, are walking and talking. There
is endless movement on one side, but on the other side of the road the upper por
tions of eight houses are visible while the lower portions have been deliberately cut
out of the scene. This distortion was deliberate, since from the bottom of the moat
the road would appear widened and the foreground would become lower. Mizutani
Hiroshi's artistry is built on such detailed planning, which enabled him to give
Mizoguchi exactly what he wanted.
Mizutani Hiroshi also designed the sets of Chushingura. The war made condi
tions difficult, but Mizutani and Shindo Kaneto, the person responsible for the
construction under him, were determined to do a good job. So when Professor
Oguma Hisakuni, the advisor on historical architecture, brought in the designs for
the pine corridor, the stage equipment department was ordered to build it, with
Mizoguchi's approval. But when construction started, the manager and the
company director were dismayed at the colossal size. No one was willing to tell
Mizoguchi that it could not be done. Ultimately, the director of photography took
the responsibility for exceeding the budget and was promptly fired. Shindo Kaneto
writes about this incident in the above-mentioned essay, 'Mizoguchi Theory of
Actual Size-ism' (Mizoguchi Kenji no gensunshugi).
Mizoguchi came and inspected the pine corridor, walked around and looked at it. This
was the time when he was using his 'one-shot' theory with a vengeance. As I secretly
watched him walking around the corridor, I chuckled, thinking that Mizoguchi he may
well be, but there was no way he could use his 'one-shot' method here when Kira
Kozunosuke fights with Asano Takuminokami and there is great confusion all around.
I thought this is not a scene that can be shot in one shot.
However, Mizoguchi did precisely that. There is a supplementary scene, but the
scene where Kira suffers a sword wound can be called a 'one shot'. It is short and
everything seems to happen very fast. Even the large open set of the pine corridor was
set up very quickly.
The scene in the pine corridor was actually filmed in five cuts. The first is the full
shot of the pine corridor from the front. In the second, the camera faces the garden
looking out from inside the corridor, slowly moving from the right till Kira
Kozukinosuke (Mimasu Mantoya) comes into view on the right edge of the screen.
Kira is vehemently criticizing Asano in front of another samurai, giving the
impression of an emotional and irritated old man. The camera pans to the right and
shows the pine corridor running up. At its far end, Asano (Arashi Yoshisaburo) can
be seen, trembling with rage as he listens to Kira's criticism. Asano's expression
suddenly changes and he runs towards Kira. The camera pans, following him as he
stabs Kira in the back. In the third shot, the camera turns to face a stunned Kira,
and the alarmed samurai who grab Asano.
The change from the second to the third shot, even though the camera is placed
at a vertical angle to the corridor, is achieved merely by turning the camera 180
degrees in the same place. The result is that there is no real shift in the distance
between the camera and the characters. The structure of the frame appears almost
unchanged and the viewer hardly registers the change which occurs in a flash at
the very moment when Asano kills Kira. We are caught up in the action and com
pletely fooled into thinking that it is a continuous shot.
The fourth shot shows the samurai and the attendants running helter-skelter in
confusion in the corridor. Finally, in the fifth, in the same confused atmosphere,
some attendants and samurai hurriedly carry Kira into a room.
The pine corridor scene may not strictly be a 'one scene-one shot', but
Mizoguchi clearly Mizoguchi wanted to film the movement of a large group of
people in as few shots as possible. Normally, if an incident had to be shown in a
crowd scene a long shot would show the whole crowd. The camera would then
zoom in, or a close-up would be used to show the actions of the main figure.
Characteristically, Mizoguchi does not do this; he prefers, instead, to use a long
shot for everything. No mid-shots frame Kira or Asano, which is why we miss the
transition from the second to the third, and third to the fourth shots.
Although this style of filming does give a general picture of the commotion, the
actions of the main character get buried in the crowd and are difficult to follow.
Mizoguchi may have wanted the main character's performance to stand out in the
midst of this melee; perhaps he felt he could extract such a performance. Whatever
his reasoning, his direction did bring out each character's meaningful and specific
action in the midst of a scene where several people are milling around.
The usual method of a long shot for the crowd and a close-up for the main char
acter might be easy to follow, but it does weaken the strength of the conflict
between the individual and the group. Mizoguchi repeatedly asked his actors to
give careful thought to the actions of the other characters. Each individual, he
believed, needed to react to the actions of the group. This would not have been pos
sible in a film with many cuts.
Moving the Crane
This technique of one scene-one shot, using long shots but not the close-up, served
two other very important purposes as well. Here, let me quote a number of suc
cessful examples from Chushingura. First, the scene where Asano, who has been
ordered to commit hara kiri, turns to face the site of the execution. A long shot is
used and the camera starts from a commanding view of Asano as he is guided
along the outer road of the execution grounds till he comes before the seated
retainer, Kataoka Gengoeimon. As Asano and Kataoka exchange farewells, the
crane is used to lower the camera to the level of the seated Kataoka. Asano seems
to steel himself and then walks through the gate into the execution ground. The
crane lifts up the camera and shows the execution ground from the outside, sur
rounded by a low fence. The camera has not entered the ground; it appears to place
itself where Kataoka sits. It is as though Kataoka has bid Asano goodbye outside,
but wants to take a look at the execution ground. There is almost a feeling of his
having climbed over the fence to look at the scene.
His work in the castle over, Oishi (played by Kawarazaki Chojuro) goes off by
himself to carry out his revenge. He plans to have his compatriots join him.
However, a ronin and his son enter at that moment and commit hara kiri. As they
struggle to breathe, Oishi cries out, 'No, no, not yet!' and rushes to help them. It
is a wrenching scene. The dying man, an old friend of Oishi's, pleads that their true
feelings be made known and Oishi confidently replies, 'I am going to confront the
shogun.' Satisfied with the answer, the man succumbs. This long scene keeps the
castle gate in the far background throughout. The camera gives the appearance of
following Oishi's movements, when in fact, it does not move at all. It follows the
dying man and stops short at the body of the dead son. It matches the different
movements that Oishi, played by Kawarazaki Chojuro, makes. These grief-filled
movements also match the mood of the men as they slowly come to a decision. The
most powerful expression of that decision can be action, an expression, or a word.
The exaggerated performance is in keeping with the camera's movement as it
anticipates the reaction and brilliantly stops at the very moment when the right
pose is struck.
There is the scene of Oishi's wife and child leaving for home. Oishi stands in
front of an elegant, thatched-roof house that looks like a teahouse, seeing off his
wife (Yamagishi Shizue) and their two young children before they set out on their
journey. Mounted on a crane, the camera looks over the hedge and follows them
as they come out. Oishi and Chikara, the older son, are saying their goodbyes. An
inconsolable Chikara follows his mother. At this point the camera moves once
again, then stops, showing the single road running vertically through the bamboo
grove. This long shot is not just about the camera running continuously. The calm
beauty of the composition conveys the feelings of separation. The camera moves
only twice with Chikara and then stops. Oishi and Chikara are torn by the contra
dictory feelings of wanting to go together as far as possible, and knowing they
cannot. They run and stop; stop and long to run. The positioning of the camera
changes three times, and each time (the composition of the house, the garden, the
fields and the bamboo grove, and then the single road running through the grove)
it is like a beautiful painting. The second time, the camera moves to a fixed posi
tion, which shows the scene at its best. This open set was carefully thought out,
designedwith scrupulous care and the superb camerawork used it with great skill.
The scene where Asano turns towards the execution grounds and the scene on
the mountain slope were also used effectivelybecause a Japanese house allowsthis
kind of camera movement.
If the sliding screens are left open, the camera can look into large parts of the
room. Normally the hedge is low, so if the camera is mounted on a crane and lifted
slightly, the compositionresemblesthe classical painted scrolls {emaki mono)that
show a panoramic view of the inside of the house. If a crane-mounted camera is
used with skill, it would not appear unnatural even if it were to move right into the
house. Mizoguchi's camera fully exploited this aspect of Japanese architecture. It
entered castles and samurai mansions, following the actors uninterruptedly and
with total freedom even at the most tense moments of the performance. Sometimes
the camera would heighten dramatic tension by showing a scene before the entry
of the actor.
Mizoguchi used the characteristics of the Japanese house adroitly in other films
as well, moving the camera from outside the door to the hedge; from the garden
into the corridor; from the corridor into the room; and then letting it roam freely
from room to room, sometimes in a 'one scene-one shot', and at other times in a '
three scenes-one cut' technique.
The most ambitious example of this is the Ohama Goten palace scene at the
beginning of the second part of Chushingura. The crane-mounted camera gives us
a brief glimpse of the elegant roof of the noh stage in the inner garden of a large
daimyo mansion. After creating a heightened expectation of something wonderful,
it seems to slide down at an angle and show the stage. It then travels past the court
to the rooms at the far end of the corridor in front of the stage and shows a proper,
dignified assembly of samurai. This elegant scene is visually captivating. Mounted
on a gigantic scale, it nonetheless imbues every small movement of the characters
with gravitas. The scale also represents the grace of the shogun's government, the
strength and stability of the authority that Oishi and the ronin seek to attack. No
matter where the camera moves, the buildings and the lines of samurai seem to go
on endlessly. The 'one shot-one scene' was useful in conveying the right sense of
pomp and majesty. Only the composition changes as the camera slides smoothly
through this space. It is one of the cinematic high points of the film.
The last scene when Oishi and his band commit ritual suicide {hara kiri) in the
Hosokawa mansion is a tribute to the beauty of the sets. The expression on the face
of each samurai as he is called on to commit hara kiri is reflected in the voice of
the one calling him. When the samurai who have helped Oishi call him, they are
shown from the corridor. They enter Oishi's room and exchange parting words
while the camera pans, giving a full view of the scene to show the waiting Oishi.
The moment his name is called, Oishi leaps up smiling, and starts walking down the
corridor. The camera moves with him. At the end it is raised a little, bringing into
view the expanse of the execution grounds across the hedge. The stark atmosphere
is also built up through the solemn way he walks. The movement of the crane-oper
ated camera creates a sense of foreboding in the scene of the execution ground
where they wait, as if for a sacred ceremony. The ground seems to recede into the
background as the camera focuses on Oishi, showing him taut and controlled.
The several examples of the superb camerawork bring the whole film together
like an exquisitely choreographed dance. The decisiveness of the characters is sus
tained by the way the camera is handled. The scene is permeated with a terrible
pathos inherent in the formality that tradition demands of the moment, and
superbly conveyed and almost given life to by the camera.
The subject of Chiishingura (loyalty to the shogun) had an outmoded and boring
air to it, even in wartime Japan when loyalty was proclaimed a high principle. In
making this unfashionable subject coincide with wartime Japan's Emperor system,
Mizoguchi feared that loyalty to the shogun would be interpreted as disloyalty to
the Emperor. He had also to deal with the conflict faced by the retainers: that in
seeking to avenge their lord (daimyo), they were being disloyal to the shogun's
authorities. In fact, questions of disloyalty to the Emperor had no connection with
the essence of the story. All they did was to provide Mizoguchi with an opportu
nity to ingratiate himself with the wartime authorities. This ridiculous interpreta
tion added another layer of gloom and oppressiveness to the story. The film failed,
and even today it seems absurdly outdated and reactionary because it was so exces
sively grave and dark, and very different from the popular Chushingiira.
And yet, Chushingiira is beautiful because it brings out the pathos of people
acting in a determined way, and with exquisitely proper ceremonial correctness.
What moves us is the purity of a powerful and unstoppable impulse to seek the
beauty of the form.
The film's basic form is undoubtedly derived from Mayama Seika's kabuki play,
but it is questionable whether these forms work realistically. Mizoguchi's concern
with exploring the embodiment of a person's will is seen in all his films, even in
the shinpa style Story ofthe Late Chrysanthemums, The Life ofOharu and Sansho
the Bailiff But it is in Chushingura that we see one of the most skilful manifesta
tions of film form.
The Long Shot
The answer to why Mizoguchi thought the long shot necessary or why he rejected
the close-up and persisted in showing the full body, lies in his working method. He
was extremely demanding. There was always tension on the sets because he
expected the best, and hated shortcuts or compromises. For him, close-ups were
meaningless. The expression on the face could be seen, but the hands and feet
which also reflect the state of mind remained invisible. He felt it was not really
acting when an actor faced the camera alone, and when scenes of the co-actors
playing opposite him were added later through the shot-reverse-shot. Considering
it absolutely necessary for actors to face each other while acting, he rejected the
close-up and the bust shot. As against this, he used the long shot to perfection.
On the day of shooting, Mizoguchi would bring a blackboard to the completed
sets and have the lines of the scene written on it. After studying them carefully, he
would have the scriptwriter or the producer make revisions if the lines did not
sound good or if they needed to be changed to suit the atmosphere of the set. If the
artistic director had built a larger set than planned, Mizoguchi would call for
stronger lines in the script.
Mizoguchi told the scriptwriter or the producer exactly what changes he wanted
and where. He was also concerned about the reaction of the whole film crew. This
generated great tension on the sets for, while the crew carried on with their prepa
rations, they would be worrying about the revisions. Only when the changes struck
the right chord with Mizoguchi would they heave a collective sigh of relief.
Mizoguchi's approval would raise everyone's spirits.
Even as he kept the crew on their toes, he was himself in a perpetual state of
tension, even though he planned well. He loved using the crane-mounted camera
and the ease with which it could be manipulated in any direction. Once during a
shoot, Miyagawa Kazuo noticed the crane swaying slightly. He saw Mizoguchi
sitting next to him in the camera seat, so wrapped up in watching the performance
that in his excitement he had gripped the handrail and was shaking it. Later he
asked Mizoguchi not to sit with him in the crane. Such deep involvement only
served to heighten the tension further.
A characteristic of Mizoguchi's style was the way he created a flow by using a
long shot taken from a crane. In most cases his approach was to leave the cam
eraman to his own devices; his discussion was limited to where to begin a shot and
where to end it. The cameraman would then decide on how to get the best angles
while the actors rehearsed.
There are basically two kinds of directors: those who base their work on the
camera and those who build it around the performance. Ozu Yasujiro belonged to
the former class and Mizoguchi to the latter. The director normally decides on the
shots to be taken in a scene: a long shot for this part, a medium shot for that, a
close-up for these lines, here a shot-reverse-shot, there a camera movement and so
on. The actors and crew plan their moves accordingly.
In the performance-based style, the performance was first viewed, and then the
decisions were made about the length of the shots or the best positions for the
camera. Generally, camera-based direction is preferred; even if the acting is not up
to the mark or if the actors cannot emote with their entire bodies, a close-up can
at least capture the expression on the face. If the delivery of the lines is not right
in one shot, the shot can be divided into three and, by moving the camera slightly
after each take, can mask the small jerkiness that occurs when shots of unequal
lengths are spliced together. When the actors are not particularly proficient, such
techniques are inevitably used. But Mizoguchi was an exacting director, sum
marily dismissing those who could not match his expectations. Since his rehearsals
were far more rigorous than those of other directors, he found no reason at all to
use camera techniques to cover up bad acting. And since he ensured that the actors
did their work, he left the cameraman free to concentrate his energies on looking
for the proper background, the timing of the interaction between the actors, and the
proper angle; in short, he could become an active participant in the scene.
How did Mizoguchi behave with his actors? He always wanted them to be real
istic. By asking questions like 'How does one understand this psychologically?' or
'Have you thought about on this?' or 'Are you reflecting on that?' he was actually
pushing the actors to analyse the psychology of the character in a particular scene,
to reflect on how they perceived the scene and whether their lines stimulated an
appropriate feeling in the actor playing opposite them. He believed that an actor
works within an environment created by the director and crew, and it is within this
environment that he creates the character and evokes the desired response. He did
not criticize sternly or give concrete suggestions. He merely said that it would be
good to do it this way or that.
Mizoguchi was involved in the entire production process. The completed film
always had his recognizable stamp. This was because his crew and actors had to
concentrate fully on extracting from his scattered words what he really wanted.
Everyone's energies would be totally focused on his every move. Mizoguchi's
direction was marked by an ability to draw on the ideas of his crew members and
crystallize them into his own composite vision. Those who could not build on his
suggestions were unceremoniously dismissed.
Mizoguchi's tyrannical behaviour was legendary. He would make even well-
established actors shoot scenes repeatedly till he was satisfied. On some days, only
one shot would be completed. Film-makers such as Ozu Ysujiro would give defi
nite directions from the slightest movement of the hand to the line of vision. Others
like Kinugasa Teinosuke, would themselves act out the performance they wanted
from their actors. Mizoguchi felt that the actor must devise his own performance.
He gave suggestions only when they made a fundamental error in understanding
the character. For instance, in Street ofShame he did not like the way Mimasu Aiko
walked. He made her correct it. But his only suggestion was, 'You are not walking
on stage,' meaning that her style belonged to the stage, that it lacked cinematic
rhythm. He made her repeat the shot till he got out of it what he wanted.
A performance that did not meet his approval made him incensed. Sugai Ichiro
recounts his experience while working in My Love Burns where he played Oi
Kentaro, the people's rights activist during the Meiji period:
It was on the second day of shooting. About two hundred extras playing Socialist Party
members are assembled in a large hall below a wide staircase leading to the meeting
room upstairs, eagerly awaiting the results of the meeting on the second floor.
The camera follows the president, Senda Koreya, jumping over the chairs and
running up the stairs just as 1 come out of the meeting room. We meet in the middle of
the staircase. I catch his sleeve and shout out in excitement, 'Please sir, wait.' This 'one
cut' was a little long and we were stuck at this point.
There was always something wrong. Shooting continued from ten in the moming to
eight in the evening, but Mizoguchi refused to approve the shot. He said that I needed
to express the tension of the meeting in the way I rushed, in the way I caught Senda's
sleeve and in the speed with which I ran up the stairs. He felt that I was giving no sign
that I had thought about the situation. ('Are you reflecting?' This was an expression that
Mizoguchi used when he was directing. He often said that if there was no reaction to
the others' emotions then the acting was dead. It is easy to understand the sentiment,
but taken out of context it can be confusing. Mizoguchi was very firm and would not
put up with compromises. If one did not follow what he really wanted, it could get
tough. If, let us say, the way the hair was dishevelled was not realistic, he would raise
hell).
Because my performance did not come up to his expectations, about two hundred
extras, other actors and crew had to wait while the same shot was done repeatedly for
ten hours. (Sugai Ichiro, 'Random Memories' (Tsurezure no oboegaki) in Films are
Difficult (Eiga wazurai)).
This was the norm in Mizoguchi's films, and even Sugai Ichiro, with his long expe
rience of working with the director felt likewise. 'I couldn't get it right. Mizoguchi
then told his assistant director, "When you get it right call me!" and went off to his
office. It was only because of the assistant director's sympathetic understanding
that we stopped shooting after ten hours.'
Many directors will shoot till they get the right performance. Some devise solu
tions such as changing the distance between the actor and the camera to get a
somewhat different shot. This is easier on the actor and usually turns out well.
Other techniques include a slight reduction in the time between shots to quicken
the tempo. In the language of the sets, this is known, as 'stealing time'.
Mizoguchi had done this occasionally. In Lady Yu, Tanaka Kinuyo's perform
ance faltered slightly in the middle of a long shot. She apologized and asked to do
it again. Mizoguchi, unlike his usual self, was kind enough to approve what had
been shot up to that point. He changed the position of the camera for the remainder
of the performance. The staff was surprised at this extraordinary exception and put
it down to the fact that he was in love with her. Normally he would order retakes
till he was thoroughly satisfied. This incident was widely discussed because it was
really an exception. Retakes were difficult because Mizoguchi would get angrier
and angrier, and the actor would be openly insulted and humiliated. Sugai Ichiro
writes in his memoirs:
As soon as the order to stop was given, I composed myself, ran to his office and pros
trated myself in front of Mizoguchi to apologise sincerely.
When I did this, he suddenly took off his slipper and hit me on the head, shouting,
'You should be sent to the mental department of the university hospital.'
Everyone in the office was shocked at Mizoguchi's violent behaviour and rushed to
separate us.
I cried in my hotel room.
Mizutani Hiroshi heard me crying. He came and calmed me down. If he had not been
in the same hotel I don't know what I would have done.
Suagi Ichiro was not the only one to be hit with a slipper. Such things happened
often and someone or other would be reduced to resentful tears. Little wonder then
that the sets were always so tense. The actors would nearly be driven insane before
they received Mizoguchi's approval and Mizoguchi maintained this tension till he
got what he wanted.
Like Mizoguchi, Kurosawa Akira, too, could get violently angry if the shooting
did not go the way he wanted. He also wanted his actors to be in a constant state
of extreme tension. Kurosawa came up with the idea of using three cameras simul
taneously, taking three different shots - a long shot, a bust shot and a tilt-up - so
as not to stop shooting when this tension had been adequately built up. Such
tension is much easier to maintain on stage because it lasts thirty minutes or an
hour, and even contributes to an increased audience involvement. In a film,
however, a shot takes just a few minutes so the tension is continuously interrupted.
These breaks are compensated for by using the angle of the camera, its movement,
editing the flow of the visuals, modulation or the rhythm. Kurosawa used a multi-
camera system to achieve this. Mizoguchi mainly used the crane.
The result is that Mizoguchi's camerawork is an excellent combination of inten
tion and passion. How far he planned this consciously is an unanswered question.
He rarely gave detailed instructions, largely following what was technically nec
essary. But ultimately it was he himself who found the solutions to problems and
his was the last word of rejection or approval. The drama he extracted after
squeezing the script and the actors dry was the fruit of putting the right pieces
together as in a painting. He achieved this because he determined the position of
the camera, but the end result came across as though he had set out from the very
beginning to achieve exactly that.
12-
Looking Up, Looking Down
Ozu Yasujiro's Low-Angle Shots
Mizoguchi loved using the crane so much that, according to Tanaka Kinuyo, actors
would jokingly say that a crane would even be part of his funeral cortege! Kuroda
Kyomi, assistant cameraman on The Life of Oharu, told me that Mizoguchi used
the crane even for a normal moving shot. Hirano Yoshimi, the cameraman,
explained to Kuroda that the crane gave the feeling that the camera was floating in
the air. But while it was certainly required for the moving shot, Kuroda saw no
point in using it for normal shots since the camera still had to be moved up and
Figure 32 Mizoguchi Kenji (left) and Ozu Yasujiro at the Association of Japanese
Film Directors, 1948.
down in the usual way. I think Mizoguchi loved using the crane for its own sake -
it was not necessarily a question of artistic technique.
By and large the crane is used for tilt-down or high-angle shots as it can take the
camera up to a height, usually mounted on a carriage, from where it can be moved
up and down. This technology was not fully developed during the silent era or in
the early period of the talkies. In Osaka Elegy and Sisters of the Gion, Mizoguchi's
prime concern was to accurately and realistically examine the lives of urban
people; he did not, therefore, use the crane in these films. Films made during the
war, such as The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums and Chushingura, have won
derful crane shots, particularly in the second part of the latter film, where - even
though we do not sympathize with the film's main theme (the glorification of
feudal loyalty) - the camerawork and the use of the crane are superb.
This skill is also evident in post-war films like Women of the Night and Lady
Musashino. The Life of Gharu has an exquisite, quite unforgettable use of the
crane shot. In Ugetsu, Sansho the Bailiff A Storyfrom Chikamatsu and Taira Clan
Saga, crane shots have been used for most of the famous scenes. Honed to a fine
skill through repeated use and long study, Mizoguchi's handling of the crane is a
lesson in the aesthetics of this shot.
One approach to the question of what a crane shot is would be to consider the
work of another great master, Ozu Yasujiro, who never used it. Ozu was famous
for his characteristic placement of the camera just a few inches above the ground
- a style he used throughout his life. He did not find it necessary to resort to a crane
for a high angle. However, in one scene where Hara Setsuko and Miyake Kuniko
are walking quietly among the sand dunes, a crane is used, although it is not
obvious to the viewer. Had the camera remained fixed, the faces of the two char
acters would have remained hidden. But so imperceptibly is it raised that the
viewer does not notice it. As its position changes completely in a crane shot, so
does the composition of the scene. In Late Autumn, Ozu used the crane in a way
that did not change the composition of the scene, even though the characters were
moving.
In abiding by his principle of not employing a crane for high-angle shots, Ozu
Yasujiro often ended up using unnecessary shots. For instance, in The Hen in the
Wind, a wife who waits impatiently for her demobilized husband to return from
war is shown leaving the house with her child, and then returning to her rented
room on the second floor. The landlord's elderly wife, who lives below, is waiting
outside her door. She tells the wife that her husband has already returned.
Usually, in such a scene, the husband's shoes would be shown outside the
entrance and the shot would show how moved the wife is at seeing them. In this
way, continuity would be established. This, however, is not Ozu's style. The wife
does not notice the shoes but her expression brightens as she runs up the stairs the
moment she hears that her husband is home. Perhaps Ozu did not show the shoes
because he would have needed a crane to take a wider shot!
Looking Up, Looking Down • 165
The wife enters the room to find her husband fast asleep on the tatami floor,
exhausted from a long journey in a packed train. Had Ozu tried to film the husband
sleeping on the floor, he would have needed to raise the camera. This would have
been the most natural shot, whether broken up or not. But Ozu is careful to avoid
it. As the wife enters the room, he first shoots her from a low angle from the front.
Next, he lowers the camera to show the sleeping husband. In this way, the same
shot shows the sleeping husband in front ofthe camera with the wife's face looking
down at him from the other side. Ozu had to make adjustments in the composition
of the scene, as the face of the sleeping husband would otherwise have been out of
proportion and the full body would not have appeared in the frame. To show the
husband lying down, he has the wife quickly sit beside him and look at him pro
tectively. For this, the camera is kept very low, which appears quite natural. So we
see how Ozu manages with just a low-angle shot when a pan would have been
natural.
Ozu did not explain his preference for the low-angle shot. Kawashima Yuzo has
an interesting story about Ozu's influence on him. Kawashima was a junior
member at the Ofuna Shochiku Studios where Ozu made most of his films. From
the time he was in secondary school, he had held Ozu in high esteem. Though he
had never worked with him, he had imbibed the fundamentals of film-making by
watching his films. When Kawashima's assistant, Urayama Kirio, became a
director and made A Town with a Cupola, Kawashima praised the film highly, but
was somewhat critical of a few high-angle shots. 'You have to have some reason
for taking high-angle shots of people,' he observed.
The theme and style of Kawashima's films were quite different from Ozu's, but
there is a surprising resemblance to Ozu's style; or Kawashima may have simply
thought that Urayama's high-angle shots were artistically wanting. Or again, he
may have couched his criticism as a moral problem in order to reduce its harsh
ness. What he was saying in essence, though, was that a tilt-down shot looks down
on a person and is therefore ethically unacceptable.
Maybe Kawashima did not, after all, get his ideas directly from Ozu. Nor was
there any direct assertion by Ozu himself stating that his shooting style was based
on an ethical perspective. Ozu simply did not like the high-angle shot because he
did not want to disturb the balance ofthe composition for even a second. This expla
nation seems to make sense, even though critics try and construct different mean
ings of what they perceive as his aesthetic style. But given his emotional depth, it
is quite likely that his shooting style was closely connected to his ethical values.
1 also think that his preference for the low-angle shot was marked by a dislike
of the moving shot. This, he felt was akin to casting a sweeping, contemptuous
glance at people of a lower status, like a shogun giving an audience to his lords
(nambi daimyo o nagameru), like a figure of authority looking down on his sub
ordinates. Ozu felt strongly that a director's use of the camera reflected his ethical
ideas, and Kawashima imbibed this from watching his films.
To imagine that every shot reflects a director's ethical ideas would be a major
mistake. The relationship with belief is more complex, and it would be risky to
over-simplify it. This is precisely what we would be in danger of doing if we were
to regard the high-angle shot as authoritarian merely because it looks 'down' on
people, and the low-angle shot as humble and respectful because it looks 'up' to
people.
Historical and war films normally use high-angle shots for their many spectac
ular scenes and for creating a sense of large crowds. Here, it is essential to take a
long shot and move the camera back. High-angle shots show the grandeur of the
large, specially constructed sets. On the other hand, in family dramas, which have
very few sequences of crowds, and where most scenes are confined to small
rooms, there is little justification for such shots.
Mizoguchi, who made many historical films, loved using the crane for the tilt-
down while Ozu, who made family dramas, disliked them intensely. It is entirely
likely, then, that the differences in their techniques were the outcome of their dif
ferent subject matter, and did not necessarily reflect any intrinsic difference in their
thinking.
Panorama and Aesthetics: Angle of Elevation
It is important to note that Chushingura, The Life of Oharu, and Taira Clan Saga
are all historical films using crowd scenes and large sets, and the crane helped
Mizoguchi in high-angle shots. In Ugetsu and A Storyfrom Chikamatsu (both love
stories), the many tilt-downs were most effectively used, although they were not
always wide-angle shots using the crane.
Examples of such shots can be found in the love scenes between Genjuro (Mori
Masayuki), the potter, and Wakasa (Kyo Machiko), the princess (actually a
vengeful ghost). Mizoguchi took a number of such shots in the scene where the
potter realizes that the princess is a ghost and scrambles backwards - still seated
on the tatami mat - to escape as the ghost advances. The scene is shot from over
the ghost's shoulder. Then the shot-reverse-shots, taken from Genjuro's level and
looking up at her, are spliced together.
You have here a relationship in which the potter has been bewitched by the
princess. Her higher status and her behaviour make her the more aggressive of the
two. The scene is conceived from the perspective of an upper-class woman, furious
at the very idea of a socially inferior man trying to evade her. To underline this
inequality, a tilt-down is mixed with shot-reverse-shots taken from an angle. It
conveys the pressure exerted by the upper-class woman as she bears down on the
socially inferior man, while the low-angle shot looks up from the potter's position
at Wakasa's weirdly beautiful face. The mix of the two together produces a very
real feeling of terror.
Mizoguchi's lifelong concern was to show the problems in a man-woman rela

tionship. He directed love scenes in a way that brought out the social differences
between the protagonists, and this, in turn, had a profound relationship with the
use of the tilt-down or the angle of the camera. For instance, in the love scene
between Shiraito (Irie Takako) and Kinya (Okada Okihiko) in Cascading White
Threads, there is a long shot that pulls back, showing a bridge at night. The shot is
taken at a slight angle, with the bridge in the middle of the upper half of the frame
and Kinya crouching at the top of it. Shiraito notices him as she passes by and
stops to talk. The camera movesoverthe bridge and captures Shiraitostandingand
talking to the huddled Kinya.
Shiraito is the star of the Mizugei Ichiza Group. Kinya is a poor cart-driver who
had damaged his cart that afternoon and had been thrown out of his job. Now, with
no placeto go, he is sleeping on the bridge. Theyhad met for the firsttime that after
noon and become friendly, and now they meet again. Shiraito, the richer of the two,
thinks of Kinya as a poor student and plays the role of the patron.This inequalityis
shown with her standing and looking down at him, while he crouches, looking up at
her. Her superiorposition is brought out with great skill in the first shot.The camera
looksup from the riverbed at the bridge, whichcomesinto the top of the frame, and
then above that you have the slim figure of Shiraito walking on the bridge.
In a surviving copy of the script the scene starts this way:
A small closed shop.

Below the Boshin bridge, Shiraito walking alone gazing at the moon.
Shiraito: 'What a lovely moon, it will be difficult to sleep.'
She comes to the bridge.
Shiraito: 'It's a little depressing, here I am twenty-four and have never managed to get
my hair done by Taka Shimada.'
Then, putting Shimada out of her mind, she twirls her hair, looks up at the bridge and
realizes that there is someone there.
Shiraito: 'Who is there? Aren't you a retainer of the Mito domain?'
She climbs up. A man is lying at the top of the bridge. She comes up behind him.
Shiraito: 'How amazing, he is really fast asleep.'
She comes close and peers down at him, and is surprised to see Kinya.
Shiraito: 'Why it's Kin-san!'
The scriptwriter first has Shiraito look up to Kinya as she walks up the bridge, but
as she steps towards Kinya, she is shown not looking down but 'peering at him'.
Mizoguchi's direction follows this with a long shot of Shiraito looking up at the
bridge so that the expression on her face is unclear. Then Shiraito walks up the
bridge and sees Kinya lying there, and we have a truly beautiful shot-reverse-shot
of her looking down at him and him looking up at her.
After this the two stroll down the riverbed, talking to each other. Kinya says he
wants to go to Tokyo and study law. Shiraito replies that if this is what he wants.
she will support him and pay his tuition fees. They go to Shiraito's hotel room and
continue their conversation. The scene in the script is as follows:
Kinya: T will never, in all my life, forget this great debt.'

Kinya: 'Whatever I achievein the future, I will make every effort to repay you.Tellme
what is it that you desire?'
Shiraito: T am quite satisfied if I can help you achieve your ambitions.'
Kinya: 'No, that won't do. I am obliged to you but you as my benefactor are not obliged
to me.'
Shiraito: 'All right then, should I tell you? I would like ...' she says and hides her face.
Shiraito: 'There is no need for an old woman like me to feel embarrassed like some
young girl,' she says bashfully and hides behind a screen.
Shiraito: 'What I want, you know, is to be loved by you.' Kinya goes to her.
Mizoguchi filmed Shiraito mostly from the front, but did use a few long shots that
had a high-angle feel to them. In this scene their positions are reversed, for it is
Kinya now who is of samurai status (he could even become a professor or a min
ister in the future) while Shiraito is a geisha who hopes that after 'he succeeds in
life', he will love her. To portray this reversal of positions, Shiraito's manner,
which on the bridge was to 'peer at him', has now changed into a more submissive
demeanour. Ire Takako conveys this change brilliantly when she hides behind the
screen after saying that she wants Kinya to love her.
To send Kinya money, Shiraito borrows from a moneylender. The evil money
lender gets a henchman to rob her of the money he has just lent her. Shiraito finds
out, confronts him and demands that he return the money. The moneylender turns
vicious, grabs her by the hair and drags her around the room. A high-angle shot is
used to film this sadistic scene.
Angered by the moneylender's violence, Shiraito kills him. She is arrested and
produced in court where the judge is Kinya, who has graduated from the univer
sity and been appointed to this post. In the court scene the judge's seat is naturally
placed at a higher level and the defendant is seated at a lower level. Thus Kinya
looks down at Shiraito while talking to her, while Shiraito looks up at him, with an
expression that seems resigned to the fact that her whole future depends on his
judgement.
Whatever Mizoguchi's personal ideas may have been about the way the charac
ters should have been positioned, in the last court scene these positions were deter
mined simply by the way the courtroom is organized. But the film taken as a whole
showed that Mizoguchi's direction brought out the changes in Shiraito's and
Kinya's positions by the way he placed them in the scene, or through their situa
tion, so that they are either being looked down at or looked up to.
Standing and Sitting
The Japanese style of sitting and moving about a room is different from the way it
is in the West. The Japanese use tatami mats and most directors find shooting in a
tatami mat room difficult. Consider an example of filming a conversation in such
a room. The movements would be like this: first the person in the corridor outside
the room sits and opens the sliding doors. Then he stands and enters the room and
sits and closes the doors. Once again he stands up and moves to the appointed
place in the room, sits down and bows. Only then can the conversation begin.
Inevitably, the tempo will drag. Unlike in Western films, the characters cannot
walk about the room once the conversation begins; you cannot, therefore, have
movement and change. During the conversation, if one of the characters stands, the
appropriate frame of the person sitting will show the standing person only from the
chest downwards, which makes for an awkward composition. In Western films if
you have one person sitting on a chair while the other stands, it is still possible to
maintain a balance in the frame. This is difficult to do in a tatami mat room.
Ozu Yasujiro resolved the problem of how to film the rhythm and tempo of life
in a Japanese-style home in his own unique way. He placed the camera at a very
low level, had an almost geometrical composition and used fine, subtle editing.
Mizoguchi used a different technique. In a Japanese house, if you remove the
chairs and leave the sliding doors open, the whole house is one large open space.
Mizoguchi was able to create very subtle meanings by the way his characters
walked, stood or sat.
Take the example of Lady Yu - a story about a beautiful, young, upper-class,
married woman, Oyu, who is in love with a young merchant. As she cannot marry
him, she persuades her younger sister, who worships her, to do so. The younger
sister reasons that if she marries the merchant, he would be her elder sister's
brother-in-law, and it would not be strange for them to meet occasionally. On the
night of their marriage, she tells her new husband why she has married him and
why they must not have physical relations. Although she has planned this for her
adored elder sister, she is nevertheless somewhat saddened, and her husband
shocked.
In this scene, Mizoguchi uses a long moving shot to connect the rooms in a
Japanese house, alternately stopping and moving, sometimes taking the shot from
above and sometimes from below. During this particular shot, Oshizu (Otowa
Nobuko), the bride, and Shinnosuke (Hori Yuji), the groom, move around in
various ways: sitting on the tatami mat, rising, bowing, walking, sitting, and then
rising and walking again. The rhythm of their movements bring out the psychology
of the scene.
In the script, this scene is 'Scene 31 Afternoon - Shinnosuke's room', while the
stage direction notes that they will be walking, standing and sitting. It is impera
tive to study the script to understand the movement of the camera and the actors.
Figure 33 Lady 7m (1951), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc.
Scene 31 Afternoon - Shinnosuke's room

Night.
Shinnosuke raises a glass to the marriage broker and Oshizu and says, 'To your
good health.'
The go-between moves back. [In the film, the go-between takes Oshizu's hand
and walks about three mat lengths across the room and shows her the
bedroom, sits down, bows and leaves. The camera pans to follow Oshizu and
the go-between. Then a cut to a full shot of Oshizu.]
Shirmosuke and Oshizu come face to face for the first time. (Shinnosuke comes
and stands beside Oshizu and then sits down).
Shinnosuke: 'There is something I must say as the breadwinner of this family.'
Hearing this, Oshizu's hands tremble.
Shinnosuke looks at her suspiciously. (In the first part of this scene Shinnosuke
is shown looking steadily at Oshizu and after that the roles are reversed.)
Oshizu is shown for a while, looking as if she wants to say something and then:
Oshizu: 'You surprised me by suddenly saying something like this but if I don't
ask you now, then ...'
Shinnosuke: 'What is it?'
Oshizu: 'Actually, 1 came here after taking a decision.'
Oshizu: 'Please accept me as a wife in form only.'
(Oshizu gets up as if to run, crosses about three mats across the room and then
sits down. Shinnosuke also gets up, runs after her and sits behind her.
Shinnosuke: 'What are you saying?'
Oshizu: 'I know what I am saying. My elder sister never wanted me to marry till
now. She herself would reject all the proposals that came for me. Till now.'
Shinnosuke: '...?'
Oshizu: 'This time because it was you, she did not want to stop this marriage.
She said it felt as if she was getting a new member of the family ...'
Shinnosuke: '...?'
(Oshizu is standing. The camera has followed her. Shinnosuke stands up and the
two talk.)
Oshizu: 'It's not just that. When she saw you her face suddenly began to glow.'
Shinnosuke: (He seems to be peering at Oshizu's face) 'I think you are just
imagining this.'
Oshizu: 'No.' (She sits. The camera tilts down. Shinnosuke follows her and sits
down).
Shinnosuke: 'Now that you have become a wife it won't do for you not to fulfil
your vows, even if you find it difficult. This puts me in a difficult position.'
Oshizu: '...?'
Shinnosuke: 'You may be right about your elder sister but that doesn't justify
your doing this to me ... Really ... I mean, she couldn't be expecting you to
do something like this ...'
Oshizu: 'Perhaps you, too, actually like her. Even though you have married me
I am sure it was because you wanted to be close to her always.'
Shinnosuke is flustered and gazes at the sky.
Shinnosuke: 'No ... not at all ...'
Oshizu: 'You can speak freely, I will not tell anyone.'
She walks around Shinnosuke. (He stands up and leans against the pillar. Oshizu
also stands up after him.)
Shinnosuke: 'I am fond of her, I will not conceal that, but I think of her as a rel
ative ... what have you gone and done? There is nothing that can be done
about it...' (Shinnosuke sits with his back to her. Oshizu, after looking down
at him comes and stands in front of him.
Shinnosuke: '...?'
Oshizu: 'I thought I would bring the two of you together. It was I who came with
the hope that you would make me your sister.'
Shinnosuke: 'Did you think that you could bury yourself for the rest of your life
for the sake of your sister?'
Oshizu: 'No, my elder sister will always be with me. Of course life doesn't
always turn out the way you want and you have to follow the law.'
Shinnosuke looks questioningly.
Oshizu: 'Please make my elder sister happy. If you think of her as an elder sister,
then do just as I would ...'
Shinnosuke: 'Oshizu, you don't mind living like a nun?'

Oshizu: 'No, not at all. It is all right with me.' (Oshizu breaks down and cries.
Shinnosuke springs up and looks down at her for a moment and then, dis
traught, turns around and takes a couple of steps back.)
This scene was shot in two long shots, the first of one minute and ten seconds and
the second of six minutes and fifty-seven seconds. The conversation continues as
Oshizu and Shirmosuke move around, the changing camera angles capturing their
mental turmoil. Grief acquires a greater vividness when the man looks down at the
seated, anguished woman. Her spirit appears to break when she gets up and moves
around to shake off her despair, then sits down again. The man looks confused and
indecisive as he stands beside the seated woman. But when he, too, sits down to
Ms*
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Figure 34 Katayama Akihiko (left) and Tanaka Kinuyo in Lady Musashino

(1951), © Toho Film Co. Ltd.
persuade her, he suddenly appears to lose all confidence. Then it is the woman who
looks down at him. The moving camera gives an emotional charge to these oscil
lations between the standing and sitting figures, refiecting their alternating feelings
of hope and despair.
Another movement common to Asians but not to Westerners is to squat when
resting in the open. It is used with great skill in Lady Musashino. A beautiful
married woman and her younger cousin are in love. One day, as they walk around
Musashino amidst the fields, they come upon a swamp. Refiecting that love is an
abyss, they fall into a romantic mood. The man sits down on the hollow trunk of a
fallen tree alongside the stream and the girl stands to one side. The man is posi
tioned at a lower and the woman at a higher level. In that position the two laugh
and talk. After a while he stands up and they walk towards the left of the firame
where he squats in the grass. The woman also walks to the left but the camera stops
and looks down on the squatting man. Then the man looks in the direction of the
woman, gets up and follows her. The camera follows him as he walks up to her but
the figure of the woman appears troubled and she sits down.
The woman is a respectable, married person. Both know that their love is for
bidden. They are contemptuous of her husband's vulgarity and proud of their
lineage as noble families of Musashino. They cannot speak of their love, and when
the conversation does turn to questions of love, chaste and modest feelings well up
within her. The man is aware of this and wants to play on her feelings. Their
heightened awareness is portrayed through their restless movements of standing
and sitting as they walk along the riverside path. This is one long shot without a
cut. The two never look directly at each other; they are shown in full, looking down
or looking up. They move naturally, sometimes turning their backs to the camera,
sometimes hunching their shoulders as if stopped by some outside force. The
camera moves and occasionally stops as if it had remembered something, or had
changed its mind. At other times it speeds up, as if worried. Hayazaka Funio's
theme melody, a brisk pastoral song, heightens this mood and lingers with you.
This, like an earlier scene in Lady Yu, is an illustration of how Mizoguchi
conveys the delicate changes in the feelings of a man and a woman through their
movements. The movements are linked and seem to rise and fall like ocean waves.
In one moving shot of dazzling brilliance, Mizoguchi choreographs the movement
of the actors as if they were indeed waves.
Lady Yu and Lady Musashino are normally regarded as among Mizoguchi's fail
ures. I, too, feel that they are not among his finest films, but they are worth seeing
several times just for these scenes. Miyagawa Kazuo was the cinematographer for
Lady Yu and Tamai Masao for Lady Musashino. Their individual styles were very
different, but the camera movements and the pan shots reflecting the changing
feelings of the characters are similar.
In The Life of Oharu there is a sequence where Oharu, a geisha in the
Shimabara district of Kyoto, meets a rich man who makes counterfeit money.
When the man scatters his fake money, people happily pick it up. Oharu, however,
loathes such people, and will not pick up the money. The proprietor of the shop
calls her to the bottom of the stairs and berates her. He is furious that she will not
listen to him and tells her to leave. Oharu, who till that moment has worn a deter
mined expression, suddenly changes and, turning towards the owner, bows deeply,
begging forgiveness. The proprietor holds his head up haughtily. The rich man
says he is attracted to Oharu's strength of character and wants to become her
patron. Now the proprietor's face changes. Smiling widely, he bows to Oharu
obsequiously.
This sequence has the flavour of a comedy. The owner's swiftly changing atti
tude when he sees an opportunity to make money is reflected in the way he holds
his head, or bows to Oharu and by their lower or higher positions within the frame.
Mizoguchi viewed these two movements of looking up or looking down at
someone as fundamental to human consciousness.
Drama of Posture/Position
The film that boasts this aesthetic of direction is A Storyfrom Chikamatsu , one of
the most mature and beautiful films of Mizoguchi's last years. It shows the love
that Osan, the wife of a paperhanger in Kyoto, has for her husband's assistant
Mohei. The woman is the mistress, the man a servant and the drama starts with the
woman in a superior position. At first the two are not aware they are in love. They
just happen to come together through a number of coincidences. Finally, they
commit adultery, a crime under the law, and flee when they realize they are in love.
Mizoguchi's direction brings out this dawning awareness in them. He begins by
showing Osan in an upright stance, very much the owner's wife. The employee is
shown with his head bent, almost servile in his humility. Considering their respec
tive positions, this was as it should be. Other directors would also have directed the
scene in the same way. But once you see how their attitudes change, you realize
that this style was no accident.
So as not to create suspicion among the neighbours, the two pretend they are
leaving the house at the same time, quite by chance. Then, with an air of resigna
tion, they board a small boat, intending to drown themselves in Lake Biwa.
The script by Yoda Yoshikata has the following dialogue:
Sunset on the lake, the small boat carrying Osan and Mohei is being rowed out. When
they reach a place out of sight, behind a clump of weeds, they stop the boat.
Mohei: 'Mrs Osan ...'
Osan, her face distorted, nods.
Mohei, having made up his mind, is calm and holds Osan's hand.
Mohei: 'Keep a hold on yourself. Hold on to Mohei and come.'
Osan clutches Mohei. The two come out of the grass.
Osan\ 'Please forgive me ... for my sake you have to kill yourself
Mohei looks out with Osan.
Mohei: 'I have always adored you and will happily accompany you, if you allow me to.'
Osan is stunned by what Mohei says. Her bosom heaves, her eyes widen and she stares
at him.
Mohei urges her.
Mohei: 'Mrs Osan what's the matter?'
Osan: '...'
Mohei: 'Are you angry? Have I done something?'
Osan: 'I do not want to die after what you have said.'
Mohei: 'Now! What are you saying?'
Osan: 'I don't want to die. I want to live.'
Their eyes are steely with determination and they embrace each other passionately.
This love scene in small boat rocked by the waves is like a skilfully choreo
graphed duet of two dancers showing their changing positions. The camera is
moved back to show the full scene and there are no extreme close-ups. Initially,
Osan sits in front in the boat and Mohei stands at the back holding a pole. It is an
exquisite, painterly composition. Mohei's head is higher than Osan's to begin with
since he is holding the pole; it is not that he is looking down at her. Next, Mohei
talks to Osan as he moves towards her on his knees and ties her legs together with
a rope. It was customary to bind a woman's legs before throwing her into the water
so that when the body was discovered the legs would not be apart. Simultaneously,
as was written in the script, rather than the two just taking off their sandals, it was
done to provide Mohei with an opportunity to kneel before Osan. It is in this posi
tion that he declares his love for her. As it is the love of a male servant for his mis
tress, it is a most appropriate posture.
However, unlike Western chivalric romances, Mohei does not declare his love
looking up, with his chest thrown back. In chivalric love, the knight may bend his
knee in front of the noble lady, but his heart is brimming with confidence. He
knows that once he is given permission to stand by her, he will spring up to master
her. A knight who lacks this confidence cannot possibly love a noblewoman. When
he looks up, therefore, he has a confident air. In Japanese feudal society, for a
servant to love his mistress was a crime. So even as he kneels and professes his
love for Osan, Hasegawa Kazuo who plays Mohei, bends his head as he clutches
her legs beseechingly. He prostrates himself and speaks in a tearful voice and then
- so that the two can jump into the water - he binds Osan and the two stand up.
When Osan says, 'Your words have made me want to live,' Mohei sits down
once again. It is ingrained in him by custom to bow down when he is talking to his
master. But now that he has declared his love for her and Osan has also realized
her love for him, she sits down submissively. Her posture changes as she cries, 'I
don't want to die, I want to live,' and clasps Mohei. If this had been a Western
chivalric romance the man would have stood, clasped the woman and assumed a
posture of protection. But Mohei, like a grown child, throws his head back and
allows Osan to hold him.
Among Mizoguchi's well-knownworks, A Storyfrom Chikamatsu is not as well
regarded in Europe or America as it is in Japan. Praised it is, but not as highly as
Ugetsu, TheLifeofOharu and Sansho the Bailiff because Hasegawa Kazuo's style
of playing Mohei comes across as very different from a masculine, Western,
chivalric, romantic hero. As he falls in love with Osan, Mohei is often hesitant and
timid, and his behaviour just evokes laughter among European and American audi
ences. Far from appearing manly, he comes across as a clown.
In traditional Japanese performing arts like kabuki, or those influenced by tra
dition such as shinpa theatre, an actor who plays what is called a 'masculine'
(tachiyaku) role, does not normally play love scenes. These are played by a
'matinee idol' (nimaime), a type of actor often portrayed as weak and shallow.
Hasegawa Kazuo, a historical drama actor who played both 'masculine' and
'matinee idol' roles, was never as popular as his fellow actors in period films, such
Bando Tsumasaburo and Okochi Denjiro, who played only 'masculine' roles. He
was, however, the most popular matinee idol star in period films and had a large
fan following among women. In A Story from Chikamatsu he performs a pure
matinee idol role, not displaying any macho posturing towards women, but
assuming masculine poses just before the last scene. Mizoguchi's intention was to
slowly and gradually bring out the true feelings of this matinee idol character.
After the two abandon their plans for a double suicide in Lake Biwa, they cross
the mountains and escape to Mohei's village. On the way, they rest in a small tea
house. Mohei decides that he will help Osan by surrendering himself, and goes
back. When Osan learns of this, she runs after him and finally falls, fainting from
the strain. Mohei, who had hidden himself from her, runs to her side and falls to
his knees to soothe her hurt leg, kissing it gently. Lying on the ground they hold
each other but it is the woman who is on top.
In the end, Osan is caught and forcibly taken back to her parents' home. One
night, Mohei steals into the garden to meet her as her mother keeps watch and the
two hug, hidden by an open door. This time it is Mohei whose back is straight and
Osan who nestles in his arms. He has assumed the posture of the superior person.
The mother quickly lets both of them into the room and once they are seated,
urges them to separate. Here, too, Mohei sits with his back straight, deaf to her
pleas. Osan looks admiringly at this transformed man. Their positions, as
revealed by their postures, are reversed. Their physical stances bespeak a mental
state: the lower-class servant has now been transformed into a heroic lover, while
the haughty upper-class mistress assumes a subdued pose and gazes upon her
hero.
Miyagawa, the cinematographer, later recalled that his intention was to film
Mohei in a way that would make him appear larger in the latter half of the film. It
is not clear how far Mizoguchi deliberately planned the changes in their postures.
Yoda's script of the scene was just a description of what occurs when they come
back down the valley and clasp each other.
Osan, held in Mohei's arms, cries.

Mohei, overcome with tenderness, holds her firmly.
Osan gazes up at Mohei, bravely smiling, tears running down her face.
The script does not have detailed notes on their positions. In the earlier scene of
the small boat where Mohei hugs Osan, the stage directions are straightforward:
'The two look at each other intensely and clasp each other with great strength.'
There is no mention of the woman being in a superior position. However, in the
love scene at the bottom of the valley, the script says, 'Osan looks up at Mohei.'
Yoda had, indeed, thought about placing the man in a higher position. Before
shooting, Mizoguchi had asked Tsuji Kyuichi, the producer, what Hasegawa
Kazuo thought of the scene. Tsuji, in turn, asked Hasegawa who replied that he
was thinking of kissing Osan's feet. When Mizoguchi heard this, he gave a broad,
satisfied grin and directed it in just that way. It would appear, then, that the posi
tioning of the characters was Hasegawa's idea and not Mizoguchi's.
I believe that Mizoguchi tried to depict the man-woman relationship on screen
through the notions of status and through the psychological relationshipsof dom
inance and subordination, by positioning his characters lower or higher.
Alternatively, he translated it through specific camera techniques such as a tilt-up
or an angled shot, and these techniques were used in the other films with different
crews and cast. Mizoguchi gave few concrete suggestions while directing; but he
was in the habit of making the scriptwriters, the art directors and the actors revise
endlessly till he had drawn out what he wanted from them. This process of revi
sion would often reveal what Mizoguchi himself had not visualized. It was only
then that he realized this was what he wanted all along. By linking the ones he
liked from the many variations that the constant revisions produced, Mizoguchi
bound the film together with his own underlying logic.
What was Mizoguchi's intuitive focus? He repeatedly returned to the question
of the liberation of women and the problem of equality between the sexes. In that
sense he was a democrat. Did this mean that he absolutely rejected unequal rela
tions among people? After all, his several period films did contain scenes showing
the arrogance of the upper classes and the humility of the lower.
Mizoguchi believed that men and women were wholly under the spell of their
social positions until they fell in love. For him, the highest form an expression
of love took was the image of an arrogant person prostrating himself before a
social inferior. Such an image denotes Mizoguchi's disposition towards a feu-
dalistic way of thinking: even in love, he believes, human relations were deter
mined by who would be the superior and who the subordinate. This is not to
slander him. The theme of his art was a constant battle against feudal instincts.
and in the very ferocity of this battle lay the source of his tremendous creative
power.
Mizoguchi, who loved using the crane for tilt-ups, would have the camera
placed low in a ditch, or in a moat and shoot upwards at an embankment. In
Cascading White Threads and The Life of Oharu he placed the camera on the
riverbed and showed a brilliant, angled shot of the embankment and the bridge.
The long and unforgettable 'one scene-one shot' in The Story of the Late
Chrysanthemums, where Hanayagi and Mori walk along the side of the moat
talking, is taken at an angle from below the level of the moat. I have stated earlier
that in general the high angle was often used in historical films and spectacles,
where the lavish sets are on display. While Mizoguchi loved the high angle in this
kind of film, his striking inclusion of angled shots also shows his brilliant individ
uality.
The climactic scene of Women ofthe Night is typical of Mizoguchi's use of the
camera. This film paints a realistic picture of the tragic life of prostitutes (panpan)
hanging around the busy streets in the ruins of post-war Osaka. At the start of the
last sequence we see a concrete precipice. The camera, placed at the bottom of the
cliff, observes a group of prostitutes positioned at the top. It moves downwards,
following them as they descend the cliff, chattering. We see a bumt-out church in
the lower comer, where they beat up some women from outside their group who
are trying to ply their trade without asking their permission. Tanaka Kinuyo,
playing the leader of the prostitutes, realizes that among the 'outsider' women is
her younger sister-in-law. When she tries to protect her she, too, is beaten up. The
two hug each other and vow to change their lives. The camera pulls back for a
wide-angle shot looking down at these two holding each other like mother and
child, below the stained-glass window of the destroyed church.
This scene, composed along the lines of the Madonna and child in front of a
church, appeared contrived and cheap, and was a failure. However, what leaves a
powerful impression is the depth of Mizoguchi's imagination, expressed in the way
he altemates between 'looking up' and 'looking down' - looking up to the woman
as a sacred being and 'looking down' on the pitiful.
The Script: Yoda Yoshikata
YodaYoshikata was among the many people who worked with Mizoguchi and was
his most important scriptwriter. His father worked in a company called Yuzen Dyes
but he later set up his own independent factory. From the time he was in primary
school, Yoda and his mother helped in the factory right up to the time of his father's
death in 1919. Life was difficult during the depression that followed the First
World War. His mother, the only daughter of one of the thirteen mistresses of a
famous restaurant owner in Kyoto, and a tough woman in her own right, started a
small confectionery shop to support the family, and Yoshikata would help with
deliveries for the shop after school. As a young woman she was employed in many
places and it was while working as an assistant in a restaurant that specialized in
chicken dishes, that she met Yoda's father and married him. She went on to play a
major role in bringing Yoda into films with Mizoguchi. Mizoguchi's films them
selves have many strong-willed women who live a difficult life. They reflect in part
the character of some of the women he had himself admired. Some, possibly, are
modelled on Yoda's mother who he respected deeply.
Within a year of being appointed scriptwriter by Mizoguchi, Yoda Yoshikata
wrote the script for Osaka Elegy. His mother sawthe film on the opening night and
was very touched.
Mizoguchi had frequent and fierce fights with the women in his life. Yoda, on
the other hand, grew up protected by his mother, elder sister and wife. What the
two men shared was a strong love for their mothers. Mizoguchi knew many women
who had resolutely fought men.Yoda, too, was aware of women's willpowerbut for
him their real strength lay in their ability to bear suffering. The female characters
the two depicted in their films were created through the intertwining of their
respective views of women. Whereas Mizoguchi - based on what he saw of his
sister - constructed a strong image of a gentle woman protecting a man, it was
Figure 35 Mizoguchi Kenji (left) and scriptwriter Yoda Yoshikata (1951).

Yoda who fleshed it out wonderfully and made the image real. Mizoguchi's initial
reason for appointing Yoda was that he was born in Kyoto and therefore under
stood the characters, customs and language of the people of Kansai (Osaka-Kyoto
area). But the reason why he never parted from Yoda was because he shared his
view of women and their innate desire to nurture.
Mizoguchi would make Yoda revise his script several times till he had the char
acters he was satisfied with. On this he was unrelenting. However, Yoda was not
the only one to work under Mizoguchi's direction. Mizoguchi's individuality and
tenacity pushed the entire crew in the direction he wanted them to go. Since the
people who worked with him also shared his sense of self-worth, they would add
their own touches even as they followed Mizoguchi's directions.
A society where men use women is also a society where men use each other. A
man who crushes women is not a man to be admired. Portraying such men is a way
of portraying a society where men cannot be men. The structure of a patriarchal
social order is unquestionably based on violence. Yoda wrote his scripts for
Mizoguchi from this understanding of Japanese society. He rarely wrote what is
called social drama, where people trample over each other to get ahead. By pre
senting the very core of society realistically, he provided us with a social analysis
that was far sharper and more accurate than ideological works with their direct
approach to social problems.
List of Illustrations
1. Mizoguchi Kenji 3
2. Left to right: Mizoguchi Kenji at twenty-eight, actress Sakai Yoneko
and distributor Kawakita Nagamasa. Photograph taken at the Nikkatsu
Kyoto Studio in 1926. 5
3. Natsukawa Shizue (left) and Kosugi Isamu in Metropolitan Symphony
(1929). 43
4. Yamada Isuzu (left) and Hara Komako in Oyuki, the Madonna (1935). 46
5. Ohkura Chiyoko (left) and Miyake Kuniko in Poppy (1935). 47
6. Yamada Isuzu in Osaka Elegy (1936). 62
7. Simizu Masao (left) and Yamaji Fumiko in The Straits ofLove and Hate
(1937). 64
8. Kogule Michiyo (left) and Kuga Yoshiko (right) in A Picture ofMadame
Yuki (1950), © Toho Film Co. Ltd. 66
9. Yamada Isuzu and Natsukawa Daijiro in TheDownfall ofOsen (1935). 70
10. Yamada Isuzu (left) in (1936). 73
11. Mori Kakuko (left) and Hanayagi Syotaro in The Story of the Late
Chrysanthemums (1938). 79
12. Mizoguchi Kenji in his capacity as the President of the Association
of Japanese Film Directors, and as Film Commissioner of the Cabinet,
at a ceremony held by the Japanese Government in 1940. 85
13. Yamada Isuzu in The Sword (1945). 86
14. Kuwano Michiko (left), Tanaka Kinuyo (centre) and Miura Mitsuko
(in front of Tanaka) in The Victoryof Women (1946). 87
15. Tanaka Kinuyo (left) and Miyake Kuniko in My Love Burns (1949). 90
16. Bando Minosuke (right) in Five Women around Utamaro (1946). 93
17. Tanaka Kinuyo (left) and Yamamura So in The Love ofSumako the
Actress (1947). 94
18. Tanaka Kinuyo (left) and Takasugi Sanae in Women of the Night
(1948). 95
19. Tanaka Kinuyo (left) and Sugai Ichiro in The Life of Oharu (1952),
© Toho Film Co. Ltd. 105
20. Tanaka Kinuyo (left) and Mizoguchi Kenji in Venice. 110
181
21. Kyo Machiko (left) and Mori Masayuki (right) in Ugetsu (1953),
© Kadokawa Pictures, Inc. 113
22. Sansho the Baliff(1954), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc. 118
23. Tanaka Kinuyo in Sansho the Baliff(1954), © Kadokawa Pictures,
Inc. 120
24. Naniwa Chieko (left), Hasegawa Kazuo (centre) and Kagawa Kyoko
(right) in A Story from Chikamatsu (1954), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc. 128
25. Gion Festival Music (1953), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc. 132
26. Kuga Yoshiko (left) in The Woman in the Rumour (1954), © Kadokawa
Pictures, Inc. 133
27. Kyo Machiko (left) in The Princess Yang Kwei-fei (1955), © Kadokawa
Pictures, Inc. 134
28. Ichikawa Raizo in Taira Clan Saga (1955), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc. 136
29. Street ofShame (1956), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc. 140
30. Tokyo March {1929). 144
31. The Forty-seven Ronin (1941). 148
32. Mizoguchi Kenji (left) and Ozu Yasujiro at the Association of Japanese
Film Directors, 1948. 163
33. Lady 7i/ (1951), © Kadokawa Pictures, Inc. 170
34. Katayama Akihiko (left) and Tanaka Kinuyo in Lady Musashino (1951),
© Toho Film Co. Ltd. 172
35. Mizoguchi Kenji (left) and scriptwriter YodaYoshikata (1951). 179
Mizoguchi's Filmography
1956
Street ofShame - Akasen chitai
1955
Taira Clan Saga - Shin heike monogatari
Princess YangKwei-fei - Yokihi
1954
A Story from Chikamatsu - Chikamatsu monogatari
The Woman in the Rumour - Uwasa no onna
Sansho the Bailiff- Sansho dayu
1953
Ugetsu - Ugetsu monogatari
Gion Festival Music - Gion bayashi
1952
The Life of Oharu - Saikaku ichidai onna
1951
Lady Musashino - Musashino fujin
Lady Yu - Oyu-sama
1950
A Picture ofMadame Yuki - Yuki fujin ezu
1949
My Love Burns - Waga koi wa moenu (1949)
1948
Women of the Night - Yoru no onnatachi
183
1947
The Love ofSumako the Actress - Joyu Sumako no koi
1946
Five Women Around Utamaro - Utamaro o meguru gonin no onna
The Victory of Women - Josei no shori
1945
Victory Song - Hisshoka
The Sword-MqxXo bijomaru
1944
Musashi Miyamoto - Miyamoto Musashi
Three Generations ofDanjuro - Danjuro sandai
1942
The Forty-Seven Ronin: Part II- Genroku Chushingura
1941
The Forty-Seven Ronin - Genroku Chushingura
The Life ofan Actor - Geido ichidai otoko
1940
A Woman of Osaka - Naniwa onna
1939
The Story ofthe Late Chrysanthemums - Zangiku monogatari
1938
Ah, My Home Town - Aa kokyo
The Song of the Camp - Roei no uta
1937
The Straits ofLove and Hate - Aien kyo
1936
Sisters of the Gion - Gion no shimai
Osaka Elegy - Naniwa ereji
Mizoguchi's Filmography • 185
1935
Poppy - Gubijinso
Oyuki, the Madonna - Maria no Oyuki
The Downfall of Osen - Orizuru Osen
1934
The Mountain Pass ofLove and Hate - Aizo toge
The Jinpu Gang - Jinpu-ren
1933
Gion Festival - Gion matsuri
Cascading White Threads - Taki no shiraito
1932
Dawn in Manchuria - Manmo kenkoku no reimei
Man of the Moment - Toki no ujigami
1931
And Yet They Go - Shikamo karera wa yuku
1930
Home Town - Fujiwara Yoshie no furusato
Mistress ofa Foreigner - Tojin Okichi
1929
Metropolitan Symphony - Tokai kokyogaku
Tokyo March - Tokyo koshin-kyoku
The Rising Sun Brightens - Asahi wa kagayaku
The Nihon Bridge - Nihon bashi
1928
My Lovely Daughter - Musume kawaiya
A Man s Life: Part III - Hito no issho
A Man's Life: Part II- Hito no issho
A Man's Life - Hito no issho
1927
The Cuckoo - Jihi shincho
Imperial Favour - Ko-on
1926
Money - Kane
Children of the Sea - Kaikoku danji
The Love-Mad Tutoress - Kyoren no onna shisho
My Fault, New Version - Shin onoga tsumi
A Paper Doll's Whisper ofSpring - Kaminingyo ham no sasayaki
The Copper Coin King - D6ka-6
1925
General Nogi and Kumasan - Nogi taisho to Kumasan
The Song ofHome - Furusato no uta
The Man - Ningen
Street Scenes - Gaijo no suketchi
Shining in the Red Sunset - Akai yuhi ni terasarete
The White Lily Laments - Shirayuri wa nageku
The Earth Smiles - Daichi wa hohoemu (Part 1)
Out of College - Gakuso o idete
No Money, No Fight - Uchen-Puchan
1924
Queen of the Circus - Kyokubadan no joo
A Woman ofPleasure - Kanraku no onna
A Chronicle of the May Rain - Samidare zoshi
The Trace ofa Turkey - Shichimencho no yukue
This Dusty World- Jin kyo
Women Are Strong - Josei wa tsuyoshi
The Queen ofModern Times - Gendai no jo-o
Death at Dawn - Akatsuki no shi
The Sad Idiot - Kanashiki hakuchi
1923
The Song of the Mountain Pass - Toge no uta
Blood and Soul - Chi to rei
The Night - Yoru
Among the Ruins - Haikyo no naka
Foggy Harbour - Kiri no minato
813
The Song ofFailure - Haizan no uta wa kanashi
City ofDesire - Joen no chimata
Dream ofYouth - Seishun no yumeji
Hometown - Kokyo
The Resurrection ofLove - Ai ni yomigaeru hi
English and Original Titles of Films of Other
Directors Cited in the Book
Baggage ofLife, The (Jinsei no onimotsu)

Baptism by Fire (Chi no senrei)
Battleship Potemkin (Bronenosets Potyomkin)
Before the Dawn (Yoakemae)
Beheading ofa Hundred in Yoshiwara, The (Hana no Yoshihara Hyakunigiri)
Blood ofa Big Snake, The (Orochi)
Blue Mountain Range, The (Aoi sammyaku)
Bronze Christians (Seido no kiristo)
Day Our Lives Brightened, The (Waga shougai no kagayakeru hi)
Drops ofBlood on the Snow (Beni yuki funpun)
Duty and Duty (Giri to giri)
Far Away Palanquin (Oboro kago)
Fight WithoutArms (Buki naki tatakai)
Five Scouts (Gonin no sekkohei)
Foreigner Okichi, The (Tojin Okichi)
Forsaken Mother, The (Suterareta Haha)
Forty-Seven Ronin, The (Chushingura-Ninjo-hen; Fukushu-hen)
Gate ofHell (Jigokumon)
Half-Brother (Ibokyodai)
Harp ofBurma (Biruma no Tategoto)
Hen in the Wind, The (Kaze no naka no mendori)
Instigation (Sendo)
It s My Life (Vivre sa vie)
Just Take it Out (Chuji Uridasu)
Killing Sword, The (Zanjin zanuma ken)
Late Autumn (Akibiyori)
Life ofa Man, The (Hito no issho. Ningen banji kane no maki)
Living Dolls (Ikeru ningyo)
Look at this Mother (Kono haha o miyo)
Man s Pain (Ningen ku)
Morningfor the Osone Family (Osone ke no asa)
Mother Caught in a Storm, The (Arashi no naka no haha)
187
My Love Burns (Waga Koi wa moenu)

My Name is Woman (Watashi no na wa Onna)
Navy Bomber Party, The (Kaigun Bakugekitai)
Night and Fog in Japan (Nihon no yoru to kiri)
No Regrets for Our Youth (Waga seishun ni kuyinashi)
Okichi the Foreigner (Tojin Okichi)
Osaka Story, An (Osaka monogatari)
Page ofMadness, A (Kurutta ippeji)
Passion ofa Woman Teacher, The (Kyoren no onna shisho)
Portrait ofa Bride (Onna Keizu)
Predicament (Itabasami)
Quiet Two, The (Futari shizuka)
Rain ofTears (Namida no Ame)
Rashomon (Rashomon)
Regarding Desire (Sei ni kanjite)
Resurrection ofLove, The (Ai ni yomigaeru hi)
Rickshaw Man, The (Muhomatsu no issho)
Rope (Rope)
Seven Samurai (Shichinin no samurai)
Song ofMy Village, The (Furusato no uta)
Song of the Baggage Car, The (Niguruma no uta)
Sun (Nichiren)
Tale of Genji, The (Genji monogatari)
To the Land ofSnow out ofDesire and Duty (Giri to ichi kara ukiguni e)
Tokyo Hotel, The (Tokyo no shuku)
Town with a Cupola, A (Kyupolra no aru machi)
Tree ofLove, The (Aizen Katsura)
Village Tattoed Man, The (Machi no Irezumimono)
Walkower (Walkower)
Waltz at Noon (Mahilu no Enbukyoku)
What Made Her Do It? (Nani ga kanojo o so saseta ka)
What's Your Name? (Kimi no na wa?)
Wild Goose (Gan)
Wonderful Sunday (Subarashiki nichiyobi)
Worrying about Mother (Haha no shinpai)
Yae-chan, The Next Door Girl (Tonori no Yae-chan)
YouthAcross the River (Kawa muko no seishun)
Index
575 41, 186 Blood ofa Big Snake, The 25, 187
Blue Mountain Range, The 67, 91, 187
Age ofFilms, The 56 Bronze Christians 122, 187
Akasaka Royal Hall 4 'Brother Do Not Give Your Life' 34
Akimoto Matsuyo 18, 19 Buddhism 1, 16, 19, 75, 107, 115
And Yet They Go 36-37, 45, 58, 140, Bungeikurabu 2
185 Bunrakuza 82
Anthropology of the Gods, The 34 Bygone Friends 39, 59
Aoibashi Western Painting Research
Institute 3 Cabinet ofDr Caligari, The 9, 41
Aoyama Hiroshi 96 Cascading White Threads 21-22, 35,
Arai Jun 23 38, 41, 47, 61, 74-75, 80, 88, 124,
Araki Shinobu 23 167, 178, 185
Arashi Yoshisaburo 153 Chaplin, Charlie 9
'Arsene Lupin' series 41 Chikamatsu Monzaemon 61, 124,
Art ofMizoguchi Kenji, The 144 126
Asahi Weekly 135 Chuo University 9
Asakusa Opera 4 Chushingura 46, 55-56, 122, 138-139,
Asakusa Sanyukan 29 145, 148-152, 154-157, 164, 166
Asakusa Tagawa Primary School 1 Chusingura of the Genroku Period 147
Association of Japanese Film Directors Cinematic Expression of the Masters:
86-87, 163, 181-182 Mizoguchi Kenji, The 142
'Avenue of Life, The' 34 Cinemaya (Osian s-Cinemaya) The
Asian Film Quarterly ix
Baggage ofLife, The 65, 74, 187 Collected Screenplays ofYoda
Baishoku kamo nanban 70 Yoshikata, The 14
Bando Kotaro 82 Collected Works ofJapanese Film
Bando Minosuke 94, 181 Directors 8
Bando Tsumasaburo 9, 58, 176 Collection ofJapanese Classical
Baptism by Fire 27-30, 187 Literature 124
Battleship Potemkin 145, 187 Commercial College 9
Before the Dawn 122, 187 'Complete Realisation of a Vow, The'
Blood and Spirit 41 107
190 • Index
Confucianism 16, 19, 60 Five Women who Loved Love 125,

Contemporary Japanese Filmmakers 127
29 Foggy Harbour 186
Conversations with the Demon Forsaken Mother, The 7, 187
Takahashi Oden 17 Forty-Seven Ronin, The 74, 147-148,
Cooper, Gary 60 184, 187
Crime and Punishment 107 Fukuda Eiko 89
Crow in the Moonlight 65 Fukuda Yoshiyuki 90
Futagawa Buntaro 9, 25
Daiei 1,5, 10, 12, 69, 110, 113, 127,
135 Gable, Clark 60
Daiichi Eiga 45, 48, 69 Gate ofHell 135, 187
Dali, Salvador 12 Genealogy of the Cinematic Spirit, The
Danzaimon 2 97
Dawn ofManchuria, The 41 General Oyama Iwao 17
Day Our Lives Brightened, The 92, Gion Festival Music 131-134, 182-183
187 Godard, Jean-Luc 24
De Maupassant, Guy 4, 37, 46, Gosho Heinosuke 9, 46, 65, 74
111-112 Great Kanto Earthquake 10, 22, 31
Doll s House, A 94 Griffith, D.W. 9
Dostoevsky, Fyodor 107
Downfall of Osen, The 13, 35, 36, 38, Hamada Yuriko 67
41,47, 55,61,70, 73-75, 80, 181, Hanada Kiyoteru 90
185 Hanayagi Kisho 74, 75, 121, 123
Drops ofBlood on the Snow 24, 187 Kara Kensaku 38, 63
Dumas Fils 24 Hara Setsuko 91, 164
Duty and Duty 24, 187 Harp ofBurma 115, 187
Hasegawa Kazuo 22, 58, 127-128,
Edo Period 6, 15, 60, 94 175-177, 182
Eisenstein, Sergei 42, 100, 143, 145 Hatamoto Akiichi 39, 69
Elan Vitale 69 Hayakawa Sessyu 60-61
Hayasaka Fumio 114, 128
Far Eastern Communist University Hayashiya Tatsusaburo 118
6 Heizan 137
Festival of Gion, The 45 Hen in the Wind, The 92, 164, 187
Film and the Modern Spirit 97 Higuchi Ichiyo 2
Film Commissioner of the Cabinet Hirakata Park 151
86-87, 181 Hirano Yoshimi 108, 145, 163
Films are Difficult 159 History ofFilm People: Mizoguchi
Five Scouts 45, 187 Kenji, A 56
Five Women Around Utamaro 94, 181, Hitchcock, Alfred 145, 147
184 HoriYuji 169
Index • 191
Hosei University 53 Just Take it Out 65, 187

Hototogisii 17, 19
Kadokawa Pictures, Inc. 113, 118, 120,
/ Was Awarded a Medal 111-112 128, 132-134, 136, 140, 170,
Ibsen, Henrik 94 181-182
Ichijo Yuriko 57 Kaeriyama Norimasa 24
Ichikawa Kon 34 Kafu4
Ichikawa Raizo 136, 137, 182 Kagawa Keiko 123
Ihara Saikaku 101-103, 107-108, Kaigun Bakugekitai 45, 188
124-129, 139, 141 Kanagaki Robun 1,17
lida Shinbi 44 Kanjincho 56
Ikebe Ryo 60 Katayama Akihiko 172, 182
Ikenaga 4, 57, 144 Katsu Shintaro 58
Ikenaga Hirohisa 4, 57 Kawaguchi Matsutaro 1,6, 14, 46,
Imai Tadashi 67, 91, 101 51-52, 86, 110, 121, 127
Imamura Shohei vii Kawakami Yasuko 141
Imperial Favour 41, 45, 185 Kawakatsu Kyoko 32, 142
Inagaki Hiroshi 8-9, 22, 46 Kawakita Nagamasa 5, 181
Inn at the Ford, The 110-112, 115 Kawarazaki Chojuro 154
Inoue Kintaro 65 Kawashima Yuzo 165
Instigation 24, 187 Kawazu Seizaburo 51
'Investigation into What is Called a Keio University 9
Human' 97 Kikuchi Youho 39
IrieTakako 13,42, 167 Killing Sword, The 42, 187
Ishihama Primary School 1 Kimura Sotoji 45
Ishihara Yujiro 60 Kinema Junpo 44
Its My Life 24, 187 Kinoshita Keisuke 89, 91, 101
Itami Mansaku 46, 65, 74 Kinugasa Teinosuke 7-9, 20-22, 25,
Ito Daisuke 9, 42, 47 119, 159
Ito Kisaku 151 Kishi Keiko 92
Itoya Hisao 65 Kishi Matsuo 7, 29, 56-58, 144
Iwata Keiji 33 Kobayashi Takiji 53
Izu Shimoda 37 Kobe Yuishin Journal 4
Izumi Kyoka 4, 21, 36, 70, 74, 75, 76, Koda Aya 34
81 Kogule Michiyo 70, 181
Koizumi Kasuke 29
Japan-China War 35, 41 Konjiki yasha 59
Japan Motion Pictures Limited Koshoku Ichidai Onna 101
Company 1 Kosugi Isamu 43, 181
Jien Deng Xin hua 111 Kuga Yoshiko 68, 72, 132-133,
Jinpu Gang, The 45, 151, 185 181-182
Juichiya Gisaburo 37, 39 Kuko 2
192 • Index
Kuroda Kiyoteru 3 Masa 1

Kuroda Kyomi 163 Matsuda Film Company 21
Kurosawa Akira vii, 56, 89, 91-92, Matsudaira Suzu 142
101, 122, 149, 160 Matsudaira Tadamasa 2, 31, 32, 70,
Kuwano Michiko 87-88, 181 142
Kyo Machiko 113, 134, 140, 166, 181- Matsudaira Tadanori 32, 53
182 Matsui Sumako 19, 30, 94
Kyoto Municipal Hospital 142 Matsumoto Kappei 88
Kyoto Nikkatsu Studio 4-5, 7-10, Mayama Seika 147-148, 156
20-23, 25, 27-28, 30, 33, 57-58, Meiji 9, 15-16, 18-21, 23, 28, 41^2,
143, 181 46, 59, 74-76, 81, 89-90, 94, 98,
Kyoto Senbon yakuza group 69 122,159
Meiji University 9
Lady Musashino 80, 164, 172-173, Memories of the Explosion 90
182-183 Metropolitan Symphony 41^5, 138,
Lady of the Camelias, The 24 181, 185
LadyYuAX, 66-67, 124, 151, 160, Michiyo Kogure 68
169-170, 173, 182-183 Mifune Toshiro 58-59, 61, 108
Late Autumn 164, 187 Mikawaya Geisha House 1
Life ofa Man, The 41, 187 MimasuAiko 141, 159
Life ofan Actor, The 78, 184 Mimasu Mantoya 153
Life ofFilm, The 11 Mistress ofa Foreigner 37, 39, 185
Life of Oharu, The vii, 10, 58, 74, Mito Mitsuko 89, 112
80-81, 101-102, 105, 107-108, 110, Miura Mitsuko 87-88, 181
114, 122, 138, 141, 144-145, Miyagawa Kazuo 123, 128, 145, 151,
150-152, 157, 163-164, 166, 173, 157, 173, 176
176, 178, 181, 183 Miyajima Katsuo 23
Little Cuckoo, The (Hototogisu) 19, 59 Miyake Kuniko 47, 90, 164, 181
Living Dolls A2, 187 Miyamoto Musashi 138, 184
Look at This Mother 42, 45, 187 Mizoguchi Kenji, The Man and the Art
Love ofSumako the Actress 19, 93-94, 5, 68
181, 184 'Mizoguchi Theory of Actual Size-ism'
Lump ofFat, The 46 152
Lupin, Morris 41 Mizoguchi Zentaro 1
Lust ofa Snake Character The Mizuno 2
110-111 Mizutani Hiroshi 151-152, 160
Modern Theatre 8, 9, 19, 20
Machan 5 Moliere 37
Machida Hiroko 140 Mori Kakuko 66, 79, 181
Man s Pain 8, 187 Mori Kiyoshi 29
Manchurian Incident 37, 41 Mori Masayuki 112-113, 134, 166,
Manpontei 56 181
Index • 193
Mori Ogai 116-123, 150 Oguri Takeo 21, 29

Morningfor the Osone Family 89, Ghama 1
91-92, 187 Ohbora Gengo 7, 22
Mother and Son-in-Law, The 19 Ohinata Den 60
Mother Caught in a Storm, The 92, 187 Ohkura Chiyoko 47, 181
Murata Minoru 9 Gishi Kuranosuke 55, 56, 122, 147,
Murou Saisei 34 148
My Fault \9,2\, ^9, 59, 186 Gkabe of Sakanya 2
My Little Neighbour 74 Gkada Gkihiko 167
My Love Burns 11, 55, 81, 89-91, 93, Gkada Tokihiko 38, 60-61
159, 181, 183, 188 Gkada Yoshiko 27-28
Okichi the Foreigner 144, 188
Nagata Masakazu 5, 12, 14, 48, 69, Gkochi Denjiro 58, 176
135 Gkura Chiyoko 48
Naito Kojiro 144 Old Calendar Maker, The 124-125
Naito Kenan 144 Older Brother-Younger Sister 34
Nakadai Tatsuya 60-61 Gnoe Matsunosuke 58
Nakamura Yoshiko 82 'Gppekepe' 90
Nakano Eiji 69 Osaka Elegy 5, 10, 13, 26, 32, 35, 38,
Nakayama Utako 22-23 39, 41, 47-48, 50, 55, 61, 63-65, 74,
Naniwa Chieko 128, 131-132, 182 81,90, 97-98, 107, 114, 141, 145,
Narusawa Masashige 139 151, 164, 179, 181, 184
Natsukawa Daijiro 38, 61, 71, 73, 181 Osaka Story 139, 141, 188
Natsukawa Shizue 43, 181 Gsanai, Kaoru 9
Natsume Shunji 138 Gshima Nagisa 90, 147
Natsume Soseki 4, 47 Gtani Tomoemon 133
New School Theatre 7, 9, 15, 19-20, 31 Gtowa Nobuko 169
Night and Fog in Japan 90, 147, 188 Gya Ichijiro 137-138
Nihon Bridge, The 21, 33, 35-36, 38, Oyuki, the Madonna 45-^6, 80, 181,
47, 74, 76, 80, 185 185
Nikkatsu 4-5, 7-10, 20-23, 25, 27-28, Gzaki 4
30, 33, 57-58, 143, 181 Gzawa Eitaro 112
No Money No Fight 41, 186 Gzu Yasujiro vii, 35, 46, 50, 65, 74, 92,
No Regrets for Our Youth 89, 91-92, 145, 158, 163-164, 169, 182
188
Number One Film 5 Pacific War 35, 41
Page ofMadness, A 25, 188
Occupation 59, 65, 87, 91 Paper Doll's Whisper ofSpring, A A\,
Ofuna Shochiku Studios 165 186
Oguchi Tadashi 7, 8 Passion ofa Woman Teacher, The 114,
Oguma Hisakuni 152 188
'Oguri' 116 Passionate Woman, A 101-102, 150
194 • Index
Personal History ofFilm, A 144 55, 74-75, 81, 101, 110, 116-123,
Philippines 17 150-151, 157, 164, 176, 183
Picture ofMadame Yuki, A 41, 55, Sanyabori (Tokyo Akasuka) primary
66-67, 70, 107, 181, 183 school 2
Plays and the Artistic Life 19 Sanyukan 27, 29
Poppy 45, 47, 181, 185 Sata Keiji 60
Portrait ofa Bride 21, 188 Sato Koroku 7
'Power of the Sister, The' 33 Sawamura Sadako 140
Predicament 24, 188 Second World War 35, 67, 69, 87, 94,
Princess YangKwei-fei 13, 32, 81, 97, 115, 119, 138
134-135, 138-139, 151, 182-183 Seikichi Terakado 6, 12
Pudovkin, Vsevolod Illarionovich 42 Seven Samurai 122, 149, 188
Shibaki Yoshiko 139
Quiet Two, The 21, 23-26, 188 Shibuya Minoru 122
Shiga 49
Rain ofTears, The 7, 109, 188 Shimamura Hogetsu 94
'Random Memories' 159 Shimazu Yasujiru 9, 74
Rashomon 135, 149, 188 Shimizu Hiroshi 46
Reflections on Japanese Film 97 Shimomura Chiaki 37
Regarding Desire 24, 188 ShinToho 10
Resurrection 19, 21, 29-30, 51-53, Shindo Eitaro 50, 123, 131, 140
107, 185, 188 Shindo Kaneto 9, 64, 152
Resurrection ofLove, The 29-30, 186, Shining in the Red Sunset 57, 186
188 Shinko Kinema studios 51
Rickshaw Man, The 8, 188 Shinpa (New School Theatre) group
Rope 145, 147, 188 7
Rossi couple, the 4 Shinto Funeral Prayerfor the
Run Run Shaw 135 Calendar-Maker Osan 124
Ship Shintoku, The 116
Saburi Sin 60 Shochiku 10, 165
Sada Keiji 92 Showa period 24, 36
Saegusa Genjiro 57 Silver Lion 110
Saeki Kiyoshi 93 Simizu Masao 66, 181
Saga Chieko 69-70, 141-142 Sisters of the Gion 5, 13, 41, 48-50,
Saikaku 101-103, 107-108, 124-129, 55, 62, 74, 81, 97-98, 107, 114, 131,
139, 141, 183 141, 144, 151, 164, 181, 184
Saito Ichiro 114 Skolimovski, Jerzy 147
Sakai Yoneko 5, 181 Song ofFailure, The 41, 186
SakaneTazuko 11 Song ofMy Village, T/ze 41, 188
Salon Chie 70 Song of the Camp, The 41, 45, 77, 184
Sankei 1 Story from Chikamatsu, A \0, 22, 55,
Sansho the Bailiffvii, 11, 22, 34-35, 57, 60-61,81, 101, 124, 128,
Index • 195
150-151, 164, 166, 174, 176, 182- 108-110, 112-113, 115-116,

183 120-121, 123, 129, 132-133, 160,
Story of the Late Chrysanthemums, The 163, 172, 178, 181-182
22, 35,38,41,47, 55, 58, 65, Tanaka Eizo 7-9, 28
78-81,97, 99, 121, 124, 138, 146, Tanaka Haruo 129
151-152, 157, 164, 178, 181, 184 Tanaka Kinuyo 11, 13, 40, 68, 74, 75,
Straits ofLove and Hate, The 10, 39, 82, 84, 87, 88, 89, 90, 93, 94, 95,
51-53, 55, 58, 63, 66, 107, 140, 146, 105, 108, 109, 110, 112, 113, 115,
151, 181, 184 116, 120, 121, 123, 132, 133, 160,
Street ofShame AO, 55, 139, 140-141, 163, 172, 178, 181, 182
147, 151, 159, 182-183 Tanizaki Junichiro 37
Sugai Ichiro 105, 159-161 Tasaka Tomotaka 9, 42, 45
Sugimura Haruko 13 Terakado Seiken 6
Sun, The 119, 188 'Thatching a Roof 116
Susaki Paradise, The 139 Three Great Films, The 33
Suzu 1-3, 6, 31-33, 36, 38, 40, 68, 70, Time ofMy Mother, The 19
142 To the Land ofSnow Out ofDesire and
Suzuki Denmei 60 Duty 24, 25, 188
Suzuki Kensaku 8-9, 28 Together with Films 13
Suzuki Shigeyoshi 42, 45 Toho 6, 10, 70, 105, 172, 181, 182
Sword, The 42, 86-87, 181, 184, 187 Tokudaiji Shin 88
Tokutomi Roka 17, 19
Tadanori 32, 53, 54 Tokyo Actors School 9
Taira Clan Saga 55, 122, 134-139, Tokyo Higher Teachers' College 9
151, 164, 166, 182-183 Tokyo Hotel 65,14, 188
Tairano Kiyomori 55 Tokyo Imperial University 9
Taisho 17, 20-21, 23, 28, 30, 36, 39, Tokyo March 143, 144, 182, 185
52, 59, 94, 186 Tokyo Nichinichi Shinbun 16
Tajima Kane 69 Tolstoy, Leo 4, 19, 30, 51-53, 107
Takada Kokichi 82 Tomioka Tadashi 4
Takahashi Oden 16-17 Tomoda Junichiro 44-45
Takakura Ken 58 Tomu 9, 42, 50
Takashima Tatsunosuke 70 Toshiba Corporation 53
Takasugi Sanae 95, 181 Town with a Cupola, A 165, 188
Takekawa Seiichi 32 Toyoda Shiro 139
'Takekurabe' 2 Tree ofLove 52, 188
Takemitsu Torn 114 Tsubosaka Reikenki 82-83
Tale of Genji, The 122, 188 Tsuji Kyuichi 177
Tales of Ugetsu 81 Tsukita Ichiro 48
Tamai Masao 173 Tsumakawa 2
Tanaka 7-9, 11, 13, 28, 40, 68, 74-75, Tsunoda Tomie 95
82, 84, 87, 88-90, 93-95, 105, Tsuruta Koji 60
196 • Index
Uchida Tomu 9, 42, 50 107, 108, 139, 151, 152, 164, 178,
UedaAkinari 110, 116 181, 183
Uehara Ken 60, 67-68 Wonderful Sunday 92, 188
Ugetsuvii, 12,81, 101, 110, 113-115, Worrying about Mother 24, 188
150-151, 164, 166, 176, 181, 183
Umemura Yoko 33, 49, 82, 144 Xihou Jiahua 111
Urayama Kirio 165
UryuTadao 89, 97-101 Yae-chan, The Next Door Girl 74, 188
Ushihara Kyohiko 9 Yahiro Fuji 120
Yamada Isuzu 13, 38, 46, 48-49,
Venice Film Festival 8, 110 61-64,71-73, 86, 181
Victory of Women, The 85, 87-89, 93, Yamagishi Shizue 155
101, 181, 184 Yamaji Fumiko 39, 51, 63-64, 66, 181
Vidor, King 144 Yamamoto Kaiji 29
Village Tattooed Man, The 65 Yamamoto Kajiro 9
Von Stroheim, Eric 9 Yamamura So 67, 93, 134, 181
Yamanaka Sadao 46, 65
Wada Sanzo 4 Yanagawa Shunyo 21, 23, 39
Wakabayashi 2 Yanagi Eijiro 67
Wakao Ayako 131, 132, 141 Yanagida Kunio 33-34, 115, 118
Wakayama Osamu 4, 8, 27-29 Yasumi Toshio 93
Walkover 147 Yoda Yoshikata 4-6, 11-12, 14, 32, 37,
Waltz at Noon 149, 188 39, 45, 51-52, 65, 68, 103, 106-107,
Wang Zhao Ying 39 110, 113, 120, 127, 129, 137, 139,
Warhol, Andy 147 141-142, 145, 174, 177-180, 182,
Warner Brothers 34 187
Watanabe 3 Yosano Akiko 34
Watanabe Untei 39 Yoshikata Yoda Collection ofScripts
What Made Her Do It? 42, 45, 188 103
What's Your Name? 92, 188 Yoshikawa Eiji 135, 137
Whirpool 19 Yoshimura Kosaburo 92, 101
Wild Goose 139, 188 Yoshimura Tetsuo 29
Wilde, Oscar 76 Yoshio 1,3, 53-54
Woman in the Rumour, The 81, Yoshiwara Hospital 65
132-134, 139, 151, 182-183 Yoshizawa house 7
Woman of Osaka, A 11, 78, 81, 82, 83, Youth Across the River 45, 188
84, 184 Yuzen Dyes 178
Woman ofPleasure, A 40, 186
Women of the Night 65, 81, 94, 95, Zentaro 1,32
Tadao Sato is one ofJapan's most prestigious film critics.
He has written on many of the great masters ofJapanese
cinema—Akira Kurosawa, Yasujiro Ozu, Nagisa Oshima,
Shohei Imamura - as well as on Asian and global cinema
more generally. He is currentiy the President of theJapan
Academy of Moving Images.
Kenji Mizoguchi andtheArtofJapanese Cinema is edited I

by Aruna Vasudev and Latika Padgaonkar and
is translated by Brij Tankha. ;
Kenji Mizoguchi is one of the three acclaimed masters
—together with Yasujiro Ozu and Akira Kurosawa —of
Japanese cinema. Kenji Mizoguchi andtheArtofJapanese Cinema
is the dehnitive guide to the life and work of one of the
greatest film-makers of the twentieth century.
N
o
Oq
Born at the end of the nineteenth century into a wealthy
family, Mizoguchi's early lifeinfluenced the themes he would O
tr
take up in his work. His father's ambitious business ventures
failed and the family fell into poverty. His mother died and his
elder sisterwasobhged to enter a geishahouse to support the
family. Her earnings paid for Mizoguchi's education. Weak
and deluded men and strong, self-sacrificingwomen - these
were to become the obsessive motifs of Mizoguchi's films.
Mizoguchi's apprenticeship in cinema waspeculiarly

Japanese. His concerns - the role of women and the realist
representation of the inequities ofJapanese society^ were not.
P
Through two WorldWars,Japan's culture changed. Though
censored, Mizoguchi continued to produce films. It was only rD
GO
in the 1950s that Mizoguchi's astonishing cinematic vision

became widely known outsideJapan.
3
O)
Kenji Mizoguchi andtheArtofJapanese Cinema tellsthe full story
of this famously perfectionist, even tyrannical, director. p
Mizoguchi's key films, cinematographic techniques and his
soeial and aesthetic concerns are all discussed and set in the
context ofJapan's changing popular and political culture.
FILM
Cover image: Detail from Oyuki, theMadonna (Maria noOyuki)
witfi Yamada Isuzu (left) andHara Komako (rlgfit)
ISBN 978 184788 2301
Cover design:William Josepti
BERG
NEW YORK]
9 781847 882301
www.bergpublishers.com

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Kenji Mizoguchi

and the Art ofJapanese Cinema

"Kenji Mizoguchi was unquestionably one of

i'Cjne of the 20th century's "WithMizoguchi, form and

Oxford • New York

English language translation © NETPAC (Network for the Promotion

All rights reserved.

Berg is the imprint of Oxford International Publishers Ltd.

Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

ISBN 978 1 84788 231 8 (Cloth)

Typeset by Avocet Typeset, Chilton, Aylesbury, Bucks

Author's Note vii

5 The Fate of Matinee Idols 55

6 Art Imitates Life 69

7 Three Traditional Art Films {Geidomono) 77

9 Recreating the Classics 97

11 The Dialectic of Camera and Performance 143

12 Looking Up, Looking Down 163

Mizoguchi's Filmography 183

Figure I Mizoguchi Kenji

Film Studios in the 1920s

Nagata Masakazu, nicknamed Machan, soon became responsible for Number

Mizoguchi: At first I said I wantedto be an actor. That wasn't possible so I became an

Directors and the Nikkatsu Mukojima Film Studio

was an intellectual who had struggled to graduate from a technical college. He

Time of Self-Cultivation and Aptitude

Mizoguchi became a director at the Nikkatsu Mukojima studio in 1922. In the

Among Mizoguchi's early supporters quite a few were self-made men -

Encountering the New School Theatre

History and Background of Japanese Melodrama

New School Theatre - Origins of Modern Film

Shinpa Films in the Nikkatsu Mukojima Film Studio: The Case of

Westernization of Shinpa Films - The Case of Baptism by Fire

From New School Theatre to

The Support of a Sister and the World of Shingeki

Strength of a Woman's Will

Many of Mizoguchi's early shinpa tragedies have stories featuring an elderly

Naturalism Realism - Mistress of a Foreigner and And Yet They Go

Search for Realism: A Woman ofPleasure

The Time of Leftist Films - Metropolitan Symphony

Figure 3 Natsukawa Shizue (left) and Kosugi Isamu in Metropolitan Symphony

implication a loose woman], Osome (Natsukawa Shizue), whom he plans to abandon,

What comes across as a shallow melodrama condemning the bourgeois and

Although Metropolitan Symphony is rarely seen as a complete work, it has won

Motif of Westernization - Oyuki, the Madonna and Poppy

Mizoguchi's normal practice of focusing on the woman. Another film,

Social Criticism: Sisters of the Gion

Complications of Class-Consciousness: The Straits ofLove and Hate

However, Nekhlyudov, the protagonist of Resurrection is different. True, he causes an

The Death of Mizoguchi's Younger Brother - Yoshio

In 1938, Mizoguchi's younger brother, Yoshio, died at the age of thirty-three. He

The Fate of Matinee Idols

Genealogy of the Lead Actor and the Matinee Idol

A real matinee idol!

gave a most convincing performance. The Western audience, though, seemed to

Melodrama and the Matinee Idol Stars

Dual Structure of Culture and the Fate of Matinee Idols - Osaka

Ayako is a telephone operator in a medicine store in Osaka. Her father embezzles