Gan

Hideko Takamine agrees to become the mistress of Eijirô Tôno. She was married, but the man turned out to have a wife and child, causing her and her poor father, a candy seller...well, problems. Tôno is, they believe, the widowed owner of a kimono shop with children, so it will be some time before she can be brought into his household as his wife. He is kind and indulgent of her. He is not, however, it turns out as advertised. His wife is very much alive and he is a money lender, despised by everyone when they are not trying to borrow money, and always hated by his debtors who cannot pay his usurious rates.

He is desperately in love with Miss Takamine. She likes him, but as she gradually learns the truth about him, she comes to despise him and herself. She takes refuge in a wished-for love of Hiroshi Akutagawa, a handsome medical student who killed a snake trying to eat her caged pet bird. He is focused on his studies and hopes to pass a test that will send him off to faraway Europe with a decent stipend.

Shirô Toyoda directs this fine adaptation of the hard life of poor Miss Takamine, from a novel by Ogai Mori. Toyoda was one of the many talented Japanese directors of the era. He directed his first movie in 1929, the last of almost 70 in 1976. He was best regarded for his literary adaptations like this one.

There are no clear villains in this movie. Everyone is trapped into the role that circumstances and economics dictates. They all long be free, but which of them will escape, like the wild geese that still flew over Tokyo in the time this movie is set?

An example of all that is great about Japanese cinema prior to its decline in the 1960s. It is pictorially exquisite, leisurely paced but never dull, well-acted with just the right amount of melodrama, and directed by a master in top form. The director, Shiro Toyoda, is a superb Japanese film director that has yet to be discovered in the West, though a few of his films, such as "Wild Geese" and "Snow Country" can be found on video.

The story is of a young woman whose relationships with men in the past have been stormy, and who finds herself once again in a bad situation. She becomes the mistress of a wealthy moneylender, believing him to be a merchant who has been recently widowed and that he will soon marry her. She discovers his lies but cannot leave him because of the money he has given to her elderly father. Soon she falls in love with a student that passes by her house every day on the way home, but their relationship ends before it even begins when he is accepted as an apprentice to a doctor in Germany.

"The Mistress" is a beautifully shot film that captures with subtlety and grace the central character's tragedy through its images. It is also an admirable film for its restraint in not descending into the pit of tear-jerking sentimentality that so many Japanese films of the period (even some of the good ones) so frequently did.

A young beautiful delicate woman is tricked into marriage with a money-lender, fooled by her mother, who wants the money-lender for her son-in-law to get rid of her debts, and she tells her daughter that he is a widower. He is not. His wife is still there with two children, and when the bartered concubine and the real wife learn about each other, and the new bride realizes that she has been tricked, this film becomes truly interesting. She evades the old wife consistently in sheer terror of her righteous bitterness, while the reality of her own situation of humiliation gradually becomes unbearable. At the same time, the money-lender is in a tragic and awkward situation himself as well, and to all this comes the complication of a young student of medicine, as he and the young wife develop some affection for each other. It's a very human story of very human predicaments filmed with supreme delicacy, bringing out all the passionate feelings of the players without these having to show them, it's all under perfect restraint, consistently keeping up an exquisite style of extreme artistry, to which also the wonderful misty cinematography and the endearingly beautiful music bring some additions to bring this cinematographic work of art to perfection. There is nothing more to be said than to agree with a previous critic, summarizing the impressions to 100% perfection - it's a Madame Butterfly in perfect Japanese without opera and dramatic climaxes but instead the more delicate and beautiful in consummate human sensitivity.

Unspeakably beautiful, delicate and immutable. There is no weakness in the chain of imagery, the power of forces controlling the lives of the characters, painted on the screen like calligraphy. Necessity cages the characters in images as simple as a bird threatened by a snake, to the money lender once janitor to the kept woman generous to her servant to the cruelty of the wagging tongues. Nothing here a traditional American audience demands and receives from Hollywood; only the lucidity of the haiku or bonsai, the migration of the wild geese. Cinematic perfection.

The flow of films showing the hard lives of women, and the position they are put in, were at their height in 1950s Japan, and this is without a doubt a standout. Hideko Takamine and character actor Eijirô Tôno are stunning as the kept and the keeper. She, accepting the role of mistress, he, the hated moneylender, barely keeping the illusions which made her accept.

Toyoda's direction is strong, and almost fearless. At times he goes even darker and deeper than most peers, leaving us to study "Otama", and see her self respect slowly fade away. The films only flaw is it's occasional lack of subtlety where it feels like the characters just "had to" voice what we should (and usually already are) feeling - but these occasions are luckily rare. I might also have enjoyed it even more without the introduction of a slight sense of hope, but it's harshness and melancholy is still very much there, in almost every moment.

In fact there is at most time a sense of crassness, especially when Tôno is on the screen. Each gesture, each act, each line. You can genuinely feel why he is despised by the people around him, and this without him ever being overtly cruel, something he brilliantly would be the first to point out.

Toyoda had a brilliant eye for detail, and managed to do things they sometimes even had a hard time doing, such as letting every single character, no matter how small, shine in their own way, and be truly worth remembering. Even more incredibly, no one steals the spotlight away from Otame. Each event, each character, they all reflect upon her story, and often adds a further layer to her prison.