cucina

This is an engrossing, well made and well acted film.

There is, however, a static quality to it that quickly becomes tedious. Within the first five minutes you know everything there is to know about the two lead characters: at the end of the film they are exactly the same. The husband, superbly played by Asano Tadanobu, is a spoiled, selfish, deceitful and self-pitying alcoholic writer. His beautiful and passive wife, played by Matsu Takako, is loving, forgiving, accepting and, ultimately, masochistic.

Both these characters are prototypes: the tortured artist and the self sacrificing, long suffering wife. At times his overwhelming lack of basic decency is almost comical. And her ever present gentle smile and gracious acceptance of his sadistic behavior and treatment -- not only of her, but of their child -- makes her increasingly appear not as an admirable woman but an enabling fool.

As the emotional abuse and mistreatment accumulate, the entire plot focuses on a single, simple question: will the wife at least acknowledge to herself the demeaning and brutal reality of her marriage, or will she continue to smile and accept her monster of a husband. The smile wins.

Underneath the dense green glop of computer graphics there gleamed the astounding art and skill of Ichikawa Somegoro. Alas: it got lost in all the goo. The scenes of Old Edo -- with the courtesan, drifting on the Sumida, rehearsing and acting in the Nakamura-za -- were all exciting and engaging, taking you back to an interesting and rich era. The action on the Kabuki stage, in which Somegoro excels and excites, was more enriching than any of the absurd high jinks that followed. The skill, the energy in the audience, the colors of the sets, were far more satisfying than all the nonsense that took over plot and performance. What a wasted opportunity! One of the best kabuki actors alive, and he gets lost in the dreck.