I knew nothing about this film when I started watching it, but the film has stuck with me because although the film was made in the 1950's, and represents Japan in the year 1160, the emotions of the characters seemed contemporary. What begins like a historical costume epic finishes as a personal tale about a stalker and his impact on a happily married couple.
The first third of the movie takes place against the backdrop of a short-lived rebellion that took place in 12th c Japan. Kesa (Machiko Kyô), a lady-in-waiting to the empress, volunteers to act as a decoy by pretending to flee in the empress's carriage. She is defended by a rural samurai, Morito ( Kazuo Hasegawa), who goes on to earn distinction in the rebellion. After the rebellion is put down, Morito travels to the city along with other loyalists to receive rewards from their lord. There he runs into Kesa again, who thanks him for what he did for her that day. Morito is smitten. It is not until he requests the woman as his reward that he learns she is already married to one of the high-born lords of the city, to the amusement of the city nobility.
Up to this point the story has been an exciting historical adventure. From here on the film becomes a personal drama centering on three protagonists, the increasingly obsessed Morito, the mortified Kesa, and her reserved husband, Wataru (Isao Yamagata). The original Japanese audience may have already known the outcome of the rebellion, but the rest of the film builds suspense trying to predict how each of these individuals will react to their personal drama. I found this part of the film riveting and contemporary.
The centre of the story is the samurai Morito. This character has clear, almost idealized views of right and wrong in matters of war and feudal loyalty, even when it means an irreparable rift with his only family member. However on a social level, the character's principles break down when he is publicly denied the reward he has chosen for himself, compounded by class snobbery and ridicule. What begins as a stubborn refusal to accept the obvious, becomes an obsession to get his own way. The hero of the first third of the movie, he transforms into a villain by the last third. Hasegawa carried the character to both extremes with conviction.
Machiko Kyô's performance as Kesa is more nuanced. As a westerner, I must infer from the film what Japanese society expected from women in the period. Although she begins with a heroic act, she spends most of her flight as the empress in a dead faint, which I can only assume would be considered as commendable delicacy for a woman of her class. Therefore her performance really begins when we meet her again after the rebellion is over. Despite the demure face her character must always maintain, she manages to convey a range of emotions. She is a loving wife, but as the centre of public gossip, her character is also in a constant state of humiliation. It is her self-reproach for some potential misstep on her part that motivates her, moving to fear as Morito's character becomes more unpredictable. In the end when she is faced with an impossible choice, she manages to keep the audience guessing as to her intentions.
Of the three, I found Wataru's character the most interesting. He holds onto his dignity and principles in the face of gossip, ribbing from his friends and provocations from Morito. This is not the most important role, but he acts as a necessary foil to both Kesa and Morito. In Yamagata's scenes with Kyô, his love and affection for his wife are clear, emphasizing that Kesa's feelings of having failed him are internal to her alone, and not due to any reproach from her husband. Opposite Hasegawa, Yamagata is almost stoically calm, emphasizing the increasingly agitation of Morito.
The film is also a visual treat, using the relatively new colour technologies to great advantage. Jigokumon/Gate of Hell was given an Honorary Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film (before the category became official), but it also won an Oscar for Best Costumes (Color). The outfits are eye-catching, often beautiful, or at the very least intriguing. I know nothing about medieval Japanese clothing, but another detail makes me believe these are historical rather than fanciful. I was inspired watching the film to look up the details of the Heiji rebellion, and saw an illustration from the historical scrolls of imperial carriages which were obviously copied closely when designing Kesa's decoy carriage. I know that is not proof that the costumes were as faithfully researched, but it is evidence that the filmmakers were more concerned with historical accuracy than Hollywood filmmakers of the same period were when representing medieval Europe.
The first third of the movie takes place against the backdrop of a short-lived rebellion that took place in 12th c Japan. Kesa (Machiko Kyô), a lady-in-waiting to the empress, volunteers to act as a decoy by pretending to flee in the empress's carriage. She is defended by a rural samurai, Morito ( Kazuo Hasegawa), who goes on to earn distinction in the rebellion. After the rebellion is put down, Morito travels to the city along with other loyalists to receive rewards from their lord. There he runs into Kesa again, who thanks him for what he did for her that day. Morito is smitten. It is not until he requests the woman as his reward that he learns she is already married to one of the high-born lords of the city, to the amusement of the city nobility.
Up to this point the story has been an exciting historical adventure. From here on the film becomes a personal drama centering on three protagonists, the increasingly obsessed Morito, the mortified Kesa, and her reserved husband, Wataru (Isao Yamagata). The original Japanese audience may have already known the outcome of the rebellion, but the rest of the film builds suspense trying to predict how each of these individuals will react to their personal drama. I found this part of the film riveting and contemporary.
The centre of the story is the samurai Morito. This character has clear, almost idealized views of right and wrong in matters of war and feudal loyalty, even when it means an irreparable rift with his only family member. However on a social level, the character's principles break down when he is publicly denied the reward he has chosen for himself, compounded by class snobbery and ridicule. What begins as a stubborn refusal to accept the obvious, becomes an obsession to get his own way. The hero of the first third of the movie, he transforms into a villain by the last third. Hasegawa carried the character to both extremes with conviction.
Machiko Kyô's performance as Kesa is more nuanced. As a westerner, I must infer from the film what Japanese society expected from women in the period. Although she begins with a heroic act, she spends most of her flight as the empress in a dead faint, which I can only assume would be considered as commendable delicacy for a woman of her class. Therefore her performance really begins when we meet her again after the rebellion is over. Despite the demure face her character must always maintain, she manages to convey a range of emotions. She is a loving wife, but as the centre of public gossip, her character is also in a constant state of humiliation. It is her self-reproach for some potential misstep on her part that motivates her, moving to fear as Morito's character becomes more unpredictable. In the end when she is faced with an impossible choice, she manages to keep the audience guessing as to her intentions.
Of the three, I found Wataru's character the most interesting. He holds onto his dignity and principles in the face of gossip, ribbing from his friends and provocations from Morito. This is not the most important role, but he acts as a necessary foil to both Kesa and Morito. In Yamagata's scenes with Kyô, his love and affection for his wife are clear, emphasizing that Kesa's feelings of having failed him are internal to her alone, and not due to any reproach from her husband. Opposite Hasegawa, Yamagata is almost stoically calm, emphasizing the increasingly agitation of Morito.
The film is also a visual treat, using the relatively new colour technologies to great advantage. Jigokumon/Gate of Hell was given an Honorary Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film (before the category became official), but it also won an Oscar for Best Costumes (Color). The outfits are eye-catching, often beautiful, or at the very least intriguing. I know nothing about medieval Japanese clothing, but another detail makes me believe these are historical rather than fanciful. I was inspired watching the film to look up the details of the Heiji rebellion, and saw an illustration from the historical scrolls of imperial carriages which were obviously copied closely when designing Kesa's decoy carriage. I know that is not proof that the costumes were as faithfully researched, but it is evidence that the filmmakers were more concerned with historical accuracy than Hollywood filmmakers of the same period were when representing medieval Europe.