Jigokuhen

I stumbled upon this film in my search for more films in the Kwaidan genre. The DVD quality was OK but after viewing the film, I kind of understand why it was not more popular as a film, although it also came from the same time period when ghost stories - Kwaidan, Strange Tales from the Four Valleys - basically introduced me to the joy of Japanese cinema in my younger years.

It is nutshell, it was a slow and tedious film without a character that you would care about. Well, perhaps except the daughter of the protagonist, played by Tatsuya Nakadai. He was one of my favourite Japanese actor from the past and his acting here was fairly solid. Still, it did not compensate enough for the pace and dullness of the story line.

Perhaps this story is more suited for a stage play. For cinema, much is lacking to make the film engaging to its audience.

There are a lot of reviews calling out the over the top performances, but it seems strongly inspired by ritualized drama forms like Kabuki and Noh. Just look at the Paramount Lord's eyebrows! It's just really traditionally stagey. What I found weirder is that the 'good guy' is much worse than the 'bad guy'. The scene with the snakes, let alone the business with the daughter, the artist is just horrrrrible.

This filmed theatrical performance centers on the tension between a Japanese ruler and a Korean artist. The ruler a Buddhist who considers himself a living Buddha amidst the suffering of his people brought on by his indifference, the artist a Confucian whose pride has been trampled on so many times he comes to hate even his innocent Japanese student who courts his daughter. One of the many themes in this carefully told story includes the idea of individuality portrayed by a political rebel sporting an ogre's mask. The rebel and the Japanese art student, fueled by their individual power, storm the castle of the corrupt lord like demon's of hell. Although the wheel of karma turns, symbolized by the wheels on the lavish royal carriage, their is always personal choice. The artist chose to imprison his daughter,Yoshika, drive away his foreign protege, and dared the lord to burn the carriage holding his girl. The lord chose, to indulge in an egocentric project to have a painting of himself as an enlightened being, verbally and physically abusing the genius painter, ignore the Korean king's call for help during an invasion, hold the innocent daughter of the artist, and ordered the slaughter of Korean immigrant's as they tried to go home. We, the audience hope for a glance at the evolving masterpiece the artist is working on. The painting is at first inspired the the fear of a chained little boy who squirms at the sight of approaching snakes. Finally, the artist (Tatsuya Nakadai) realizes that the torment of damnation is within himself this whole time. The flames in the movie seem to melt the screen and the haunting flute song becomes the soul of this tragedy. All the actors and actresses perform this tale in a very traditional, super dramatic way. Every time the artist begs for the return of his daughter from the lord you can't help but feel heart broken. The film is a real treasure but slightly flawed due to the innapropriate soundtrak which would be more appropriate for a western epic. Masaki Kobayashi's Kwaidan clearly contributed to this film's lush and hyper real colors, textures and images. Do anything you can to view this work.

Let me start off by saying I love Japanese cinema, literature and culture generally. I've seen many Japanese movies and enjoyed them, but "Portrait of Hell" (aka Jigokuhen) makes itself ridiculous. The two characters who dominate the action -- the "evil lord" in his privileged bubble and the "stubborn, crazy artist" are pure types with zero subtlety or nuance, and all their actions emanate from cartoonish extremes. The film wants to show horrible scenes of violence and raw emotion but many of these scenes are so over the top they actually become laughable and the overall feeling is that of a made-for-TV movie that went off the rails. If this rarely screened movie falls in your hands or comes to your town, spare yourself and give it a pass.

No one does 'descent into madness and despair' better than Tatsuya Nakadai. And when it comes to theatrical lighting, expansive settings, and slow-fi supernatural poetics, no one does them better than the Japanese, who had the benefit of a few centuries of kabuki experience before Mario Bava and Roger Corman got there with their cobwebs and color filters. All the elements are in place then and Shiro Toyoda delivers with utmost impunity. In part a not-so-distant cousin of the kaidan genre of spooky ghost stories that proliferated all through the first half of the 60's in Japan, complete with deformed ghostly apparitions that come and go as they please, yet also a bit of a prestige film that can afford beauty for beauty's sake without having to cram plot points in the short running time of a second-bill film, this reflected in the stars of the film (Tatsuya Nakadai and Kinnosuke Nakamura) and the lush sets Toho Studios put in Toyoda's disposal, the vivid colors and accomplished camera-work that suggest a director more talented than his nonexistent reputation in the West implies, all these elements coming together to create a dramatically unsubtle, not really horrifying but tragic and macabre, parable on the unyielding monomania of a perfectionist. A Korean painter is summoned by his Japanese lord to paint a portrait of Buddhist heaven. The Japanese lord becomes smitten by the painter's daughter and takes her for his concubine. The Korean painter pleads for his daughter, this coming across as more the whim of a possessive father than genuine love. Finally he settles for painting a portrait of hell. You just know Tatsuya Nakadai's face is gonna be a mask of utter despair and torment by the end and it's worth the ride getting there because the conclusion is truly ferocious.