This is yet another superb addition to the Criterion Collection of the masterworks of Japanese cinema during the country's fruitful artistic period after WWII. Director Kenji Mizoguchi is not as well known as Akira Kurosawa, nor is he yet enjoying a renaissance like Yasujiro Ozu is now. However, he had a long, impressive career that stretched over four decades culminating in the 1950's with a handful of classic movies, the most famous being 1953's "Ugetsu monogatori (Tales of Moonlight and Rain)". Set in 16th-sentury Japan, it's a ghostly morality tale of two brothers, poor farmers who are both anxious to make their fortunes from the wartime activities surrounding them but via different means. The more focused Genjurô seeks his fortune through his homemade pottery which he sells in the bustling nearby town, and the younger Tobei's pipe dream is to become a samurai warrior.
After their village is pillaged, the brothers set off on a boat to the same town on a fog-laden lake leaving their suffering wives behind. There Genjurô meets a noblewoman named Lady Wakasa, who appreciates his artistry and falls in love with him. However, she turns out to be the ghost of a woman who never experienced love, and this realization puts Genjurô into a desperate situation since he decided to leave his devoted wife Miyagi to marry her, a decision that will turn on him with supreme irony at the end. On the other hand, Tobei achieves his desire to become a samurai warrior but through dubious means, at which point he discovers his wife Ohama has become a prostitute after being raped by warriors in his absence.
What Mizoguchi does remarkably well is interweave the two stories so that they reinforce and reflect upon each other seamlessly. He also avoids the pitfall of having the story pontificate upon the obvious morals of the story by not using archetypes but instead showing the realistic flaws in all the main characters. Without the use of special effects, the fantasy elements are not remotely contrived but rather emphasize the often nebulous difference between dreams versus reality, ambition versus happiness, and gratification versus fulfillment. The final spectral twist is a worthy precursor to "The Sixth Sense". Even more impressively, with the expert work of cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa, Mizoguchi provides meticulous, often stunning tableaux to set his scenes, and his narrative is suffused with deep humanity even when the characters perform deplorable acts.
The legendary Machiko Kyô plays Lady Wakasa with an appropriately otherworldly manner, at first remote but then romantically infatuated and gradually desperate to redefine her destiny. However, it's the quartet of actors who play the two couples that make the deepest impressions. Masayuki Mori portrays Genjurô with passionate fury, and Sakae Ozawa makes the foolhardy Tobei at once deceitful and sympathetic. Kinuyo Tanaka (Japan's first female director) provides the right amount of stoic gentility as Miyagi, and Mitsuko Mito makes Ohama's degradation hauntingly memorable. For anyone interested in Japanese cinema or simply a great ghost story beautifully told, this is a must.
After their village is pillaged, the brothers set off on a boat to the same town on a fog-laden lake leaving their suffering wives behind. There Genjurô meets a noblewoman named Lady Wakasa, who appreciates his artistry and falls in love with him. However, she turns out to be the ghost of a woman who never experienced love, and this realization puts Genjurô into a desperate situation since he decided to leave his devoted wife Miyagi to marry her, a decision that will turn on him with supreme irony at the end. On the other hand, Tobei achieves his desire to become a samurai warrior but through dubious means, at which point he discovers his wife Ohama has become a prostitute after being raped by warriors in his absence.
What Mizoguchi does remarkably well is interweave the two stories so that they reinforce and reflect upon each other seamlessly. He also avoids the pitfall of having the story pontificate upon the obvious morals of the story by not using archetypes but instead showing the realistic flaws in all the main characters. Without the use of special effects, the fantasy elements are not remotely contrived but rather emphasize the often nebulous difference between dreams versus reality, ambition versus happiness, and gratification versus fulfillment. The final spectral twist is a worthy precursor to "The Sixth Sense". Even more impressively, with the expert work of cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa, Mizoguchi provides meticulous, often stunning tableaux to set his scenes, and his narrative is suffused with deep humanity even when the characters perform deplorable acts.
The legendary Machiko Kyô plays Lady Wakasa with an appropriately otherworldly manner, at first remote but then romantically infatuated and gradually desperate to redefine her destiny. However, it's the quartet of actors who play the two couples that make the deepest impressions. Masayuki Mori portrays Genjurô with passionate fury, and Sakae Ozawa makes the foolhardy Tobei at once deceitful and sympathetic. Kinuyo Tanaka (Japan's first female director) provides the right amount of stoic gentility as Miyagi, and Mitsuko Mito makes Ohama's degradation hauntingly memorable. For anyone interested in Japanese cinema or simply a great ghost story beautifully told, this is a must.