Film Review
Oyû-sama (a.k.a.
Miss Oyu or
Lady Oyu) was the first film
that acclaimed Japanese film director Kenji Mizoguchi made for Daiei
Studios, the company for which he made his best known and most highly
regarded films, most notably his great masterpiece
Ugetsu Monogatari (1953).
By this time, Mizoguchi had long been recognised as one his country's
most important filmmakers, as renowned for his elaborate period pieces (
jidai-gekis) as for his modern
social dramas.
Oyû-sama
falls between these two genres - it is set in the past
(specifically the Meiji period of the late 19th century) but embraces
modern feminist concerns which would have made it extremely popular
with a contemporary female audience.
The film is based on a 1930s novel by the important modern Japanese writer
Junichiro Tanizaki entitled
Ashikari,
which translates as
The Reed Cutter.
The film differs from the novel is several respects, most notably in
its narrative structure - the film dispenses with the flashback format
of the book and employs a classical linear structure, which has the
unfortunate effect of demystifying the central female
protagonist. Mizoguchi was unhappy with this change and was
equally hostile to Daiei's insistence over the change of title, from
the poetic
Ashikari to the
more prosaic
Oyû-sama.
Another reason why Mizoguchi disliked the film was that he later felt
that Kinuyo Tanaka was unsuitable for the part of Oyû, which
demanded an acting style of far greater restraint and subtlety than the
charismatic star Tanaka was capable of providing.
Oyû-sama is not one of
Mizoguchi's better known films, and it is too easily overshadowed by
the more widely publicised masterpieces that the director made around
this time. Whilst it may not have the stylistic brilliance of
films such as
Ugetsu Monogatari
nor the emotional force of
The Life of Oharu (1952),
Oyû-sama is all the same one
of Mizoguchi's more humane works, a beautifully understated portrayal
of unrequited love in a society where adherence to a social code must
always takes precedence over personal happiness. So controversial
was the subject matter when Tanizaki published his novel in 1932 that
it would have been unthinkable for it to have been made into a film at
that time. It was only after the Second World War, and the
liberalising influence of the American occupation, that Tanizaki's
ground-breaking story could find its way onto Japanese cinema screens.
No one who watches
Oyû-sama,
including those familiar with Mizoguchi's work, can fail to be blown
away by its immense visual beauty and narrative power. The
essential charm of Japanese art lies in its simplicity and so it is
with Mizoguchi's films. Nothing is superfluous or out of
place in a Mizoguchi film, every shot is meticulously constructed,
every scene reduced to its bare essentials, almost as if it were a
piece of Noh theatre. It is Mizoguchi's use of the camera, in
particular his famous long shots in which the camera tracks elegantly
across the field of view, making connections between characters and
their surroundings, that is the most striking feature of his
work. Mizoguchi's films have a quality of fluidity and elegance
that is unique, the cinematic equivalent of the gradual unrolling of a
sumptuously adorned Japanese parchment.
Oyû-sama's striking
visual composition is apparent right at the very start of the film, in
the extended tracking sequence in which the two ill-fated sisters make
their way through a sun-dappled grove towards the man who will seal
their fate. Contrast the optimism and ebullience of this sequence
with the intensely melancholic closing shot in which Shinnosuke allows
himself to be swallowed up by a field of reeds, his illusions
shattered, his hopes vanquished, forever separated from the two women
he has loved and lost. The social constraints that impinge so
heavily on Oyû and Oshizu are continually alluded to by their
positioning on the screen. Often as not, they are framed by
partitions, walls or doorways, a constant reminder that whilst men are
free to walk where they will, women are always confined and must submit
to the social codes if they are to retain their honour and position in
society. These stark symbols of repression, hardened by the
sublime delicacy of Mizoguchi's mise-en-scène, drive home the
cruel perversity of any society that places honour before
happiness.
Oyû-sama
is a haunting evocation of the tragedy of forbidden love that
transcends time and culture, a film of rare humanity and poignancy.
© James Travers 2012
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Next Kenji Mizoguchi film:
The Life of Oharu (1952)
Film Synopsis
In late 19th century Japan, a young carpenter named Shinnosuke must
choose a woman to take as his bride. So far his aunt's attempts
to find him a suitable wife have failed, but he is no hurry to
marry. One sunny spring day he is visited by another prospective
suitor, a beautiful young woman named Oshizu. The latter is
accompanied by her older sister Oyû, and it is Oyû who
catches Shinnosuke's eye. The young man knows that Oyû is
the woman he has been waiting for, but she is a widow with a young son,
and by the conventions of the time, she is bound to her dead husband's
family and cannot remarry. Oyû plays upon Shinnosuke's love
for her by coercing him into marrying Oshizu. On her wedding
night, Oshizu confronts her husband and, knowing how he feels about her
sister, insists that they live together as brother and sister.
The sham marriage will allow Shinnosuke to stay close to Oyû, but
it is not long before tongues between to wag. When her son dies
tragically, Oyû must return to her home village to avoid a
scandal. Shinnosuke's fortunes also take a turn for the worse,
but his love for Oyû will endure right to the
end...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.