Verbotene Leidenschaft

Also known as Intentions of Murder, this marks my sixth Imamura film and my appreciation for this Japanese filmmaker continues to grow. I rank him with Kurosawa among the Japanese greats. To think Hollywood has only recently been appropriating what Imamura was pioneering back in the 60's and that Imamura's film has a scarce 195 votes I believe is almost unethical.

That a loveless housewife married to an abusive husband who cheats on her should fall in love with the thief who breaks in her house one night and rapes her and the resulting movie is neither played for laughs nor reduced to hokey melodrama is a testament to the creative force at hand.

Imamura's uncanny ability to find the absurd in the mundane, the blackly comedic in the serious and the humane in the bleak and hopeless, this curious heady mix, eccentric but not for the sake of it, with which the director as sympathetic anthropologist handpicks his characters from the lowest strata of society, observes their struggles, triumphs and follies (like the shots of mice running aimlessly inside their cage he uses in the movie - animals, a usual if not subtle metaphor for Imamura), not with the detached amused air of the cynic (like the Coens tend to do), not to present them as quirks to amuse the sophisticated cineaste too inhibited to even aknowledge the trappings in himself, but truthfully, honestly, with a hint of sadness but never without humour to admire their downfall when they succumb at the last to their animalistic desires.

Beautifully filmed, daring in its New Wave experimentation, its dynamic shots (the camera peering from improbable angles, through doorways, inside tunnels, along with moving trains), its great use of the widescreen canvas, its sound design. Recommended for fans of the director's work and anyone interested in Japanese New Wave cinema.

Shôhei Imamura (1926-2006) was a director known for his dark themes and unique vision, and his 1964 black and white drama Unholy Desire a.k.a. Murderous Instincts is a great example of his cold style. The story deals with a middle-class housewife Sadako (Masumi Harukawa) who lives with her common-law librarian husband Riichi (Kô Nishimura) and his young son Masaru. After she is raped by a burglar Hiraoko (Shigeru Tsuyuguchi) while being at home alone, she cannot even think about letting anyone know about what happened and initially intends to kill herself, but cannot bring herself to do it because of her love to Masaru. When the rapist keeps coming back claiming to love her and tries to convince her to run away with him, deep inside she starts questioning if her suffocating life with the emotionally cold, demanding and unfaithful Riichi is any better than what Hiraoko could offer.

The idea of a woman falling with love with her rapist may sound misogynistic at first, but I don't think the film ultimately carries such a message at all. The passive Sadako's past is so full of psychological mistreatment by her in-laws that it doesn't feel like much of a stretch to think that to her, rape is not necessarily worse than her life as it is. To me, the vibe the film sends regarding the connection between physical and emotional abuse and how they relate to love in general appears to be more pessimistic than outright misanthropic. Still, as cruel as the picture is, Imamura doesn't wallow in misery: Sadako is able to stay strong throughout her trials, even if she has occasional bouts of weakness amidst the contradicting forces pulling her apart. The very last shot, a close-up of Sadako's face after everything has seemingly been resolved, leaves the ending open for interpretation.

The instantly striking aspect of the film is Imamura's stunningly beautiful visual style. The black & white cinematography, stark shadows, wonderful scenery and the thoroughly planned mise en scène ensure that practically any frame of the film could be hanged up on a wall to be admired as an artistic photograph. The cramped interior scenes make use of tight close-ups and some unconventional camera angles, while the spacious outdoor set pieces allow the use of wide angles and tracking shots, for example during the climax on a snowy mountain or Sadako and Hiraoko's dramatic encounter on a moving train. The average shot-length is longer than in most modern films and the pacing always stays unhurried, making the film long but never tedious. The somewhat avant-garde music is also used sparingly but all the more effectively.

The recurring shots of Masaru's pet mice in a tiny cage with a hamster wheel are obvious symbols for Sadako's de facto imprisonment by her family and in-laws, but shots of passing trains also keep reappearing in the film all the way through. Perhaps they are hints of possibilities for her to get away from her life, either by jumping in front of a speeding train like she initially plans to, or by accepting Hiraoko's offer and leaving with him for Tokyo? In any case, the noisy, screechy sounds of locomotives certainly heighten the tension of the disturbing scenes of abuse that take place in the family's house right next to the train tracks. A couple of moments, such as Sadako watching a shirt flying in the wind above her, also add a dreamlike feel to the mix, softening the harsh realism a bit.

In a way the directorial style and the examined themes reminded me of Austrian filmmaker Michael Haneke's awarded 2001 film The Piano Teacher: both films have a female protagonist who has grown up in an oppressive environment, but while Imamura's Sadako is unwillingly pulled into an abusive relationship, Haneke's Erika actively seeks men to mistreat her. Well, even if the comparison is a long shot, anyone interested in the nature of abuse should definitely give both films a look, as both are masterly created pieces of art. At the moment I have only seen a handful of Shôhei Imamura films, but I have been impressed by all of them. Still, Unholy Desire may be my favourite of them all; the wonderful visuals and the calm, observing handling of the controversial subject make the tale a highly enjoyable, if distressing, cinematic experience.

Yet another excellent film by Japanese director Shôhei Imamura! I'm amazed by how much great work he made!

'Intentions of Murder' revolves around Sadako, a plump woman with a peasant background who is abused by her loveless husband and in-laws and is raped by a degenerate thief. Her life is so full of bitterness and suffering, that she constantly contemplates committing suicide. Unbearably heavy as that may sound, the film is very artfully carried by Imamura's skill, inventiveness and great wisdom. The director never makes fun of Sadako's tragedy – on the contrary, he shows the deepest sympathy for her (much like he does for the female lead in his previous film, 'The Insect Woman') – but he handles the film's material with a relatively light touch by making use of a playful soundtrack and by highlighting the absurdity of its situations in a way that sometimes verges on black comedy. This is the story of an underdog who, while devoid of any wit, much wealth or classic good looks, is possessed with the strongest mettle and tenacity.

A recurring theme in his work (and particularly in my favorite film of his, 'Profound Desire of the Gods') is the clash between the structured mores of society and our unruly human desires and emotions. Inconvenient as it may be, our animal nature doesn't always accept the order that we try to impose on it rationally. This contradiction between different impulses can cause confusion, embarrassment, distress, violence... And yet, to some extent we're left with no choice but to somehow come to terms with that wild, anarchic aspect of our humanity.

I think it's fair to say that beyond our survival and animal instincts, the director points to love (both self-love and love for those around us) as the best compass in life. In this case, Sadako's love for her son serves her as a guiding light, even when it all seems hopeless. Imamura, despite populating many of his films with despicable, selfish characters, in the end seems to show some faith in human kind. It's a welcome spark of optimism in what would otherwise be a very darkly cynical perspective.

In an interview provided as an extra-feature by the Criterion Collection, Imamura explains that he needed to loosen up after having finished his 1960 film, 'My Second Brother', which won international acclaim but was too strait-laced for his taste. His style began to change after that, and I believe it's with 'Intentions of Murders' that the director began to play with surrealism, something that would become more prominent in later films like 'The Pornographers' and 'Warm Water Under The Red Bridge'.

It's true that a few of the metaphors in this film are a little too obvious (particularly the hamster in the cage). But there's so much more going on here, including beautiful black and white photography, a powerful story in general and really solid acting. This is a film that I highly recommend watching.