Empire of Passion starts out deceptively - that is, if you're immediately expecting it to be a horror movie. It's like a riff on James M. Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice, at first: Seki (Kazuko Yoshiyuki) is a mother of two and a dutiful, hard-working wife to rickshaw driver Gisaburo (Takahiro Tamura). But when he's not around, and she's at home with the baby, the feisty and aimless young man Toyoji (Tatsuya Fuji) comes around to bring some goodies for Seki... and a little extra. They're soon sleeping together, but after he does something to her (let's just say a "shave"), he knows that he'll find out, and immediately proposes that they kill Gisaburo. They drink him up, strangle him, and then toss him down a well. Naturally, this will come back to haunt them - but that it's literally, at least to them (at first super-terrified Seki and then only later on skeptical Toyoji), changes gears into the 'Kaidan', a Japanese ghost story.
This is a film where the horror comes not simply out of "oh, ghost, ah", but out of the total dread that builds for the characters. In a way there's the mechanics of a film-noir at work throughout, if only loosely translated by way of a 19th century Japanese village as opposed to an American city or small town (i.e. the snooping cop, the "evidence" found possibly by another, word getting around, suspicions aroused, etc). It's compelling because Seiko actually was against the plan from the start, manipulated by the lustful but ill-prepared Toyoji, and her reactions to Gisaburo's re-appearances are staggering to her. Take the one that comes closest to poetry: Gisaburo's ghost, pale-blue face and mostly silent, chilling stare, motions for Seiko to get on the rickshaw. She does, reluctantly, and he pushes her around on a road she doesn't know, in the wee hours before dawn, surrounded by smoke. Most Japanese ghost stories wish to heavens they could get this harrowingly atmospheric.
While it starts to veer into hysterics towards the end, there's so much here that director Oshima gets right in making this a distinctive work. After hitting it huge in the international cinema world with In the Realm of the Senses (which, ironically, got banned in his own country), he made something that, he claimed, was even *more* daring that 'Senses'. Maybe he was right; Empire of Passion has less graphic sexual content by far than its predecessor (also starring Tatsuya Fuji, a magnificently physical actor with an immense lot of range), but its daring lies in crafting a world of dread. You can believe in ghosts in this story, but you also have to believe how far down to their own personal hells these two would-be lovebirds will go. The snooping detective or the gossiping townspeople are the least of their worries: the fate of their very souls is at stake.
And Oshima takes what in other hands could be merely juicy pulp (sadly, it wouldn't surprise me if an American remake was already in the works) and crafts shot after gorgeous shot, with repetition working its way into the mis-en-scene (i.e. the shots of Seiko and Toyoji walking on that road, the camera at a dutch angle, the world tilted and surrounding them in a grim blue hue) as well as some affecting movements that will stay with me long after I finish typing this (i.e. Toyoji throwing the leaves by one hand into the well in slow motion, or how Seiko's nude body is revealed after she becomes blind). It's daring lies in connecting on a level of the spirit- not to be confused with the spiritual, though there may be something with that as well- about life and death's connections to one another, inextricably. It's a classic waiting to be discovered.
This is a film where the horror comes not simply out of "oh, ghost, ah", but out of the total dread that builds for the characters. In a way there's the mechanics of a film-noir at work throughout, if only loosely translated by way of a 19th century Japanese village as opposed to an American city or small town (i.e. the snooping cop, the "evidence" found possibly by another, word getting around, suspicions aroused, etc). It's compelling because Seiko actually was against the plan from the start, manipulated by the lustful but ill-prepared Toyoji, and her reactions to Gisaburo's re-appearances are staggering to her. Take the one that comes closest to poetry: Gisaburo's ghost, pale-blue face and mostly silent, chilling stare, motions for Seiko to get on the rickshaw. She does, reluctantly, and he pushes her around on a road she doesn't know, in the wee hours before dawn, surrounded by smoke. Most Japanese ghost stories wish to heavens they could get this harrowingly atmospheric.
While it starts to veer into hysterics towards the end, there's so much here that director Oshima gets right in making this a distinctive work. After hitting it huge in the international cinema world with In the Realm of the Senses (which, ironically, got banned in his own country), he made something that, he claimed, was even *more* daring that 'Senses'. Maybe he was right; Empire of Passion has less graphic sexual content by far than its predecessor (also starring Tatsuya Fuji, a magnificently physical actor with an immense lot of range), but its daring lies in crafting a world of dread. You can believe in ghosts in this story, but you also have to believe how far down to their own personal hells these two would-be lovebirds will go. The snooping detective or the gossiping townspeople are the least of their worries: the fate of their very souls is at stake.
And Oshima takes what in other hands could be merely juicy pulp (sadly, it wouldn't surprise me if an American remake was already in the works) and crafts shot after gorgeous shot, with repetition working its way into the mis-en-scene (i.e. the shots of Seiko and Toyoji walking on that road, the camera at a dutch angle, the world tilted and surrounding them in a grim blue hue) as well as some affecting movements that will stay with me long after I finish typing this (i.e. Toyoji throwing the leaves by one hand into the well in slow motion, or how Seiko's nude body is revealed after she becomes blind). It's daring lies in connecting on a level of the spirit- not to be confused with the spiritual, though there may be something with that as well- about life and death's connections to one another, inextricably. It's a classic waiting to be discovered.