Shinjû: Ten no Amijima

A mesmerizing film which asks deep questions about the role [or interplay] of fate and free will in human actions. The occasional appearance of hooded background figures and their actions, sometimes just to change the scenery, is done in such a casual manner that it underlines the view that we are not always in full command of what is perceived to be our reality. The ending is truly stunning. A one of a kind experience!

Similar to the fate of the star-crossed lovers in Romeo and Juliet, Double Suicide by Masahiro Shinoda is Shakespearean in its theme of lovers who are forbidden by society's rules to be together and can only find fulfillment in death. The film is based on a 1720 Kabuki (or Bunraku) puppet play, The Love Suicide at Amijima by Monzaemon Chikamatsu, who has been called the Japanese Shakespeare. As the film begins, black-clad puppeteers known as kurago are busy assembling puppets and setting the stage for the drama. Soon live actors replace the puppets but the puppeteers remain in the background, silent participants changing the sets, assembling the props, and "pulling the strings", representing perhaps the inexorable hand that guides our lives or as Shinoda has said the `thin line between truth and falsehood". The film is intensely emotional and has the feel of grand opera but the puppeteers make clear the artificiality of the drama and keep us distanced.

In the film, Jihei (Kichiemon Nakamura) is a paper merchant who is married with two young children. Though he loves his wife Osan, he has been secretly seeing a courtesan Koharu (Shima Iwashita who also plays Osan) for two and a half years. He has dissipated his fortune at the brothel and now cannot raise enough money to redeem Koharu from her enslavement to the brothel's owner (Kamatari Fujiwara). Though his family finds out about their romance and Osan tries to persuade Jehei to sever the relationship, it becomes apparent that the bond is unbreakable and we watch helplessly as the inevitable tragedy unfolds. Double Suicide has a haunting score by Toru Takemitsu and amazing black and white photography, shown in sharp detail and contrast in the new Criterion DVD, and is highly recommended for a unique viewing experience.

Fine film. I usually prefer non historic Japanese films but this is really very good and the tendency to being ponderous is not here at all. Watched this after seeing the wonderful Pale Flower, directed by Masahiro Shinoda a few years before this and was not disappointed. The film opens with a discussion as to how the suicide sequence is to be shot and we see traditional Kabuki puppets, all during the opening credits. Historic setting and very traditional goings on, not good news, I thought but how wrong. Once the film begins we are in the territory of live action only, although there is the sensational element of puppetry in the form of black cloaked 'puppeteers' forever hovering around, attending to the main protagonists and changing scenery about. There is not a frame that is not perfect and despite the plot being remarkably slender, this is riveting and all involving.

This film essentially begins with an attractive prostitute named of "Koharu" (Shima Iwashita) lamenting to her lover "Jihei" (Kichiemon Nakamura) that unless he can come up with some money to buy her contract she will soon be sold to a rich merchant that she despises by the name of "Tahei" (Hôsei Komatsu). This distresses Jihei who is totally in love with her and has tried everything he can in the last three years to raise the sufficient funds. To make matters even more complicated, Jihei is married to a devoted wife named "Osan" (also played by Shima Iwashita) and has two young children at home who depend upon him as well. To that end, realizing his predicament, his brother "Magomoen" (Yûsuke Takita) decides to intervene in order to convince Jihei of his responsibilities and to do that it requires him to discredit Koharu's love and commitment to him. Now rather than reveal any more I will just say this was a rather remarkable film which featured a technique I had never seen before in which stagehands were utilized to assist in the development of the story. Only later did I learn that this stemmed from a Japanese theater tradition known as kuroko and is often used in Kabuki plays. Another aspect of this film is the typical Japanese over dramatization involved between the actors to convey deep emotion. Since it's a cultural trait of many Japanese films and plays I will just say that it essentially comes with the territory and leave it at that. Be that as it may, although the movie drags a bit here and there, I found it to be quite entertaining overall and I have rated it accordingly. Above average.

Based on a 18th century bunraku play (Japanese form of puppet theater) by Chikamatsu, Double Suicide revolves around the star-crossed love of paper merchant Jihei and courtesan Koharu. The problem in Jihei's case however is twofold. First he's a married man and second he can't afford to pay the brothel Koharu works in and redeem her. In the face of their unrequisite and impossible love, Jihei and Koharu decide to commit suicide together - the inevitably tragic conclusion the title refers to.

Double Suicide is a three-act filmed play but it's director Masahiro Shinoda's command of the craft that transforms it into something more. Since the original is a bunraku puppet play, he opens the film with modern bunraku actors preparing for it and after the credits sequence switches the puppets for real actors.

The puppet masters however remain present for the entire movie, dressed in black suits, looking all the same, mute and mostly motionless, like artificial props and part of the set decoration they're charged with changing. Indeed they remove and change sets, actively take part in the action and interact with the actors and even freeze narrative time for our convenience but the best part (and a testament to Shinoda's talent) is that they never call attention to themselves as a gimmick.

They blend seamlessly with the combination of traditional and abstract painted sets and there are times you forget they're even present in the scene until they move. What they do mostly however is observe. Shinoda's direction is as usual perfect - enhanced by Criterion's pristine transfer, Double Suicide is a feast for the eyes shot in stark black and white, where the black is black and the white is white.

Related to Shinoda's excellent directorial skills, a common conception about him is that he's a director easy to admire but hard to love. I think Double Suicide effectively combines the best of both worlds - the technical prowess of a master cinematician with a touching and tragic love story, with universal roots but a very traditionally Japanese approach - the conflict between duty (giri) and passion (ninjo).