IMDb रेटिंग
6.8/10
8.3 हज़ार
आपकी रेटिंग
अपनी भाषा में प्लॉट जोड़ेंThe new member of a samurai militia unit causes disruption as several of his colleagues fall in love with him, threatening to disturb the rigid code of their squad.The new member of a samurai militia unit causes disruption as several of his colleagues fall in love with him, threatening to disturb the rigid code of their squad.The new member of a samurai militia unit causes disruption as several of his colleagues fall in love with him, threatening to disturb the rigid code of their squad.
- पुरस्कार
- 10 जीत और कुल 11 नामांकन
Takeshi Kitano
- Captain Toshizo Hijikata
- (as 'Beat' Takeshi)
फ़ीचर्ड समीक्षाएं
I like the music, the acting and the setting. The kendo matches pretty well done, you get to see lots of footwork too. Great camera, and finally an odd mix of sex, gore, action and humor all rolled in one that works so well. I didn't even notice the time flying when watchin this show so engrossed I was in it ^_^ This show is full of innuendos and symbolism. Lots of brainwork to be done here, no answers spoonfed. I found myself rewatching some scenes to gain a better understanding based on the setting, posture, clothes color, etc of the actors. Every little detail counts...
Oh yeh for spoilers you should read the IMDb discussion boards, I posted my interpretations there as did many others. Like others say, there is a relatively rather ambiguous ending but if you pick up on all the clues along the way you'll understand it and then u get to appreciate the movie for being subtle and clever, saying without exactly saying.
Oh yeh for spoilers you should read the IMDb discussion boards, I posted my interpretations there as did many others. Like others say, there is a relatively rather ambiguous ending but if you pick up on all the clues along the way you'll understand it and then u get to appreciate the movie for being subtle and clever, saying without exactly saying.
10TATBOY
Nagisa Oshima's work is always visually exquisite. He has that finely honed, generations-old Japanese eye for detail which has served his artistry well over the last 50 years. It reveals itself to be the difference in the world of film that a Monet, Michelangelo, or Van Gogh is to sidewalk chalk drawings.
Decades ago, Oshima set out explore new territories, to leave formula and standard, approved plot progressions behind and delve into the deeper recesses of the human experience. What comes out of that are works of storytelling which require more attention and involvement on the part of the viewer than your typical Michael Bay or Renny Harlin flick. Not that pure escapist entertainment is a bad thing; far from it. But you don't generally come away from one of those features wanting to go sit at a table with your friends, staying up to the wee hours discussing what you've just seen and all the ramifications of each scene. In simpler terms, they don't enrich your intellect! (I think even Bay?s and Harlin?s most ardent fans can agree with me on that part :-) ).
"Gohatto" is the Japanese word meaning "Taboo" in its simplest form, so you know going in your about to see something out of the ordinary. Oshima has long had a fascination with the dichotomies in Japanese culture (and frankly most cultures) between how behavior is proscribed and how the more primal, instinctual urges (mostly sex) always find their way to the surface in spite of those mores. Oshima has also found a fascination in seeing how both Western and Eastern cultures have, at one time or another (or more than one), put strict moral taboos on homosexuality, adultery, and even on prostitution, but these strictures have never eliminated or even slowed down their existence.
"Gohatto" takes us into a world 150 years ago where such things don't exist on the surface but are fully integrated into what is real life just beneath. Whether such subject matter, or exploring Eastern cultures, particularly interests you or not, if you're interested in being challenged by the art that you see, "Gohatto" (like Peter Greenaway's recent "The Pillow Book") is a must-see film.
Decades ago, Oshima set out explore new territories, to leave formula and standard, approved plot progressions behind and delve into the deeper recesses of the human experience. What comes out of that are works of storytelling which require more attention and involvement on the part of the viewer than your typical Michael Bay or Renny Harlin flick. Not that pure escapist entertainment is a bad thing; far from it. But you don't generally come away from one of those features wanting to go sit at a table with your friends, staying up to the wee hours discussing what you've just seen and all the ramifications of each scene. In simpler terms, they don't enrich your intellect! (I think even Bay?s and Harlin?s most ardent fans can agree with me on that part :-) ).
"Gohatto" is the Japanese word meaning "Taboo" in its simplest form, so you know going in your about to see something out of the ordinary. Oshima has long had a fascination with the dichotomies in Japanese culture (and frankly most cultures) between how behavior is proscribed and how the more primal, instinctual urges (mostly sex) always find their way to the surface in spite of those mores. Oshima has also found a fascination in seeing how both Western and Eastern cultures have, at one time or another (or more than one), put strict moral taboos on homosexuality, adultery, and even on prostitution, but these strictures have never eliminated or even slowed down their existence.
"Gohatto" takes us into a world 150 years ago where such things don't exist on the surface but are fully integrated into what is real life just beneath. Whether such subject matter, or exploring Eastern cultures, particularly interests you or not, if you're interested in being challenged by the art that you see, "Gohatto" (like Peter Greenaway's recent "The Pillow Book") is a must-see film.
"Gohatto" is set in mid-19th century Japan, among the Shinsengumi, a samurai militia created to uphold law and order and to defend the shogunate against reformist forces which sought to restore power to the Emperor. The central character is Sozaburo Kano, a teenage recruit to the force. Sozaburo is a beautiful young man, whose effeminate appearance inspires sexual desire among his comrades.
The film's title has been translated both as "Taboo" and "The Code", and refers to the strict code of discipline which prevailed among the samurai, severe violations of which could be punished by death. Despite the severity of the samurai code, however, homosexuality per se was not taboo, as it would have been in Western societies at this date. A British soldier of the Victorian era who had a sexual relationship with a comrade would have been liable to severe punishment and, at the very least, to dismissal from the Army in disgrace. In Japan, however, homosexual relationships among the samurai were tolerated. Sozaburo, however, poses problems for his superiors in that his quasi-feminine beauty leads to jealousies among the men and thereby endangers discipline. Although he is the central character, he is a passive one; the film is less about him than about the passions he unleashes, passions to which Sozaburo himself seems largely indifferent.
As a drama, "Gohatto" is not particularly interesting; my interest was held much more by its aesthetic aspects. To a Western audience, the film will seem strange and exotic, but its strangeness does not lie in flamboyance or showiness; indeed, I suspect that a Western film celebrating nineteenth-century gay life would be much more flamboyant in style. Rather, its strangeness lies in its austerity and restraint. The acting is deliberately stylised, almost ritualistic. The look of the film is also austere. It is set at the very end of what might be called the era of Old Japan. Although the 1850s and 1860s were the period when the Japanese were first starting to open their country up to the West, there is very little, if any, visual evidence of Western influence on show here. (Were the film to be set only a decade or two later, say around the time featured in "The Last Samurai", Western influences would have been much more visible).
Director Nagisa Ōshima's palette is a very limited one; the black and white of the samurais' uniforms, together with browns and greys. Bright colours are used very sparingly. Most of the film is set indoors, in traditional plain, sparsely furnished Japanese interiors. The result is an aesthetic which is austere, yet strangely beautiful- and also very masculine. Only briefly in the scene set in a brothel, where we see brighter colours and richer decoration, do we see a more feminine aesthetic. "Gohatto" can perhaps be thought of as an "art film" in the most literal meaning of the term, the sort of film where every shot seems to have been composed like a picture, and a work of icy, formal beauty. 7/10
The film's title has been translated both as "Taboo" and "The Code", and refers to the strict code of discipline which prevailed among the samurai, severe violations of which could be punished by death. Despite the severity of the samurai code, however, homosexuality per se was not taboo, as it would have been in Western societies at this date. A British soldier of the Victorian era who had a sexual relationship with a comrade would have been liable to severe punishment and, at the very least, to dismissal from the Army in disgrace. In Japan, however, homosexual relationships among the samurai were tolerated. Sozaburo, however, poses problems for his superiors in that his quasi-feminine beauty leads to jealousies among the men and thereby endangers discipline. Although he is the central character, he is a passive one; the film is less about him than about the passions he unleashes, passions to which Sozaburo himself seems largely indifferent.
As a drama, "Gohatto" is not particularly interesting; my interest was held much more by its aesthetic aspects. To a Western audience, the film will seem strange and exotic, but its strangeness does not lie in flamboyance or showiness; indeed, I suspect that a Western film celebrating nineteenth-century gay life would be much more flamboyant in style. Rather, its strangeness lies in its austerity and restraint. The acting is deliberately stylised, almost ritualistic. The look of the film is also austere. It is set at the very end of what might be called the era of Old Japan. Although the 1850s and 1860s were the period when the Japanese were first starting to open their country up to the West, there is very little, if any, visual evidence of Western influence on show here. (Were the film to be set only a decade or two later, say around the time featured in "The Last Samurai", Western influences would have been much more visible).
Director Nagisa Ōshima's palette is a very limited one; the black and white of the samurais' uniforms, together with browns and greys. Bright colours are used very sparingly. Most of the film is set indoors, in traditional plain, sparsely furnished Japanese interiors. The result is an aesthetic which is austere, yet strangely beautiful- and also very masculine. Only briefly in the scene set in a brothel, where we see brighter colours and richer decoration, do we see a more feminine aesthetic. "Gohatto" can perhaps be thought of as an "art film" in the most literal meaning of the term, the sort of film where every shot seems to have been composed like a picture, and a work of icy, formal beauty. 7/10
Oshima's first film in 14 years after illness was apparently directed from a wheel chair, and it's tempting to locate some of its static, formal qualities in the personal restrictions faced by the director. But this cool, intense, and very Japanese piece is stylistically rooted in the country's cinematic past, while at the same time offering provocative work familiar characteristic of this director. In his most famous film, Realm Of The Senses (aka: Ai No Corrida), made 25 years ago, dangerous sexual activity was explicit. In Gohatto (trans: Taboo), things are far less in the open. The expression of sex has been replaced with its obsession although, for Oshima, the irrationality of arousal still remains anti-authoritarian, as it creates impulses that are hard to resist.
For those more used to the straight samurai of old, Oshima's suggestions of cuddles beneath the kimono is a surprise (more outrage was generated in Japan, where it was felt more strongly that such suggestions ran against a proud tradition). One can never imagine stouthearted Toshiro Mifune, the most famous cinematic samurai from the previous generation, falling for another soldier and interrupting his role in Seven Samurai for a romp in the dojo. Cult actor/director 'Beat' Takeshi, here playing Captain Toshizo Hijikata, seems at first sight an odd choice for this sort of drama too, until one remembers the gay gunman he played so convincingly in Takashi Ishii's Gonin (1995). With his impassive face he reduces introspection to the reoccurring flicker of his (real life) tic, which, most aptly here, can suggest everything and nothing. Hijikata's internal narrative, first quizzical about Sozabura's lovers then perturbed about his effect on the garrison, suggests growing doubts resolved only in the final, memorable scene.
In Gohatto, much of the interest of the film lays in the degree in which Sozaburo's beauty arouses the interest of the men around him. Some are openly attracted to him (notably Tashiro, who shortly attempts to climb into the bed with him). Others are on the edge, like Inspector Yamazaki, charged with taking him to the brothel in Shimabara to introduce the youth to women. Most are affected in one way or another; most enigmatically are Hojikata and his superior and close colleague Commander Kondo (Yoichi Sai). As Hojikata observes, "a samurai can be undone by a love of men." But then he wonders too "Why are we both so indulgent with Sozabura?" and Kondo's rectitude and conspicuous silence hides, we suspect, a greater interest in the youth than he might wish to admit.
Oshima's visual scheme creates a film full of the bare, dark wood interiors of the militia base and the mud brown of uniforms, where just a few significant colours stand out. During the early beheading of the renegade samurai by Sozabuta, it is the red splash of the executed man's blood. At other times, Sozabuta wears a unique white robe (the Japanese colour of death). His is a presence and beauty shortly associated with a form of annihilation. In a place full of military men, that we see this feminine youth kill most often is no surprise. Compared to his contemporaries, he is the most adept at the sword unless fazed by romantic entanglements. It's an obvious irony that the object of homosexual affection is also the most deadly of the men; there's more in the fact that a group of iron-hearted soldiers can be so easily divided by an 'enemy' within, one neither fierce nor commanding.
There's another mystery in Gohatto, besides who exactly is sleeping with Sozabuta and who wants to. It's who is the murderer of Yuzawa (Tomorowo Taguchi), and doubts as to the truth of the case persist. This, and the attempt to apprehend the intruders at the base ("they call these samurai?") provide the main impetus of the plot. Like so many great Japanese films of the past, Oshima's says a lot in restraint. Here the arrangement of seated figures within the frame can suggest unspoken tensions, order is paramount, and the use of the camera is elegant and discreet. Some see the resulting style dull, when it is a slower, more contemplative way of seeing the world, one where not every question is answered.
What exactly is 'taboo' in Gohatto is clearly the issue of homosexuality - although confusingly for Western audiences such matters are not explicitly forbidden. Reference is made to the military code, which hangs on the barrack walls. Extracts appear on screen too, but no mention is made of prohibiting gay relations between soldiers. A man may be beheaded for illicitly borrowing money, but sleeping with his comrades at arms, while gossip worthy, is only really of concern when discipline is threatened. There "no secrets on Heaven and Earth (and) everyone knows it," says one of the intertitles, and Hojikata himself refers to the "tacit understanding" which normally keeps things in check. A policy which roughly equates to the modern American army's own "Don't ask, don't tell."
The film is helped immensely by Ryuichi Sakamoto's incessant, metronomic score, the steady beat of which considerably amplifies the obsessions and drawn out tensions of events. Like Oshima's interiors, it is uncluttered music, the muted colours dashed with an occasional significant tone. Now and again, urgency and violence break into this world: the initial beheading scene, the murderer's attacks, or the sword battle by the river. As a package, the result readily deserves art house admirers - especially as the director saves the best scene for last, expressing both Hojikata's final position, and a main thread of Gohatto, with hardly a cut more than necessary. Recommended.
For those more used to the straight samurai of old, Oshima's suggestions of cuddles beneath the kimono is a surprise (more outrage was generated in Japan, where it was felt more strongly that such suggestions ran against a proud tradition). One can never imagine stouthearted Toshiro Mifune, the most famous cinematic samurai from the previous generation, falling for another soldier and interrupting his role in Seven Samurai for a romp in the dojo. Cult actor/director 'Beat' Takeshi, here playing Captain Toshizo Hijikata, seems at first sight an odd choice for this sort of drama too, until one remembers the gay gunman he played so convincingly in Takashi Ishii's Gonin (1995). With his impassive face he reduces introspection to the reoccurring flicker of his (real life) tic, which, most aptly here, can suggest everything and nothing. Hijikata's internal narrative, first quizzical about Sozabura's lovers then perturbed about his effect on the garrison, suggests growing doubts resolved only in the final, memorable scene.
In Gohatto, much of the interest of the film lays in the degree in which Sozaburo's beauty arouses the interest of the men around him. Some are openly attracted to him (notably Tashiro, who shortly attempts to climb into the bed with him). Others are on the edge, like Inspector Yamazaki, charged with taking him to the brothel in Shimabara to introduce the youth to women. Most are affected in one way or another; most enigmatically are Hojikata and his superior and close colleague Commander Kondo (Yoichi Sai). As Hojikata observes, "a samurai can be undone by a love of men." But then he wonders too "Why are we both so indulgent with Sozabura?" and Kondo's rectitude and conspicuous silence hides, we suspect, a greater interest in the youth than he might wish to admit.
Oshima's visual scheme creates a film full of the bare, dark wood interiors of the militia base and the mud brown of uniforms, where just a few significant colours stand out. During the early beheading of the renegade samurai by Sozabuta, it is the red splash of the executed man's blood. At other times, Sozabuta wears a unique white robe (the Japanese colour of death). His is a presence and beauty shortly associated with a form of annihilation. In a place full of military men, that we see this feminine youth kill most often is no surprise. Compared to his contemporaries, he is the most adept at the sword unless fazed by romantic entanglements. It's an obvious irony that the object of homosexual affection is also the most deadly of the men; there's more in the fact that a group of iron-hearted soldiers can be so easily divided by an 'enemy' within, one neither fierce nor commanding.
There's another mystery in Gohatto, besides who exactly is sleeping with Sozabuta and who wants to. It's who is the murderer of Yuzawa (Tomorowo Taguchi), and doubts as to the truth of the case persist. This, and the attempt to apprehend the intruders at the base ("they call these samurai?") provide the main impetus of the plot. Like so many great Japanese films of the past, Oshima's says a lot in restraint. Here the arrangement of seated figures within the frame can suggest unspoken tensions, order is paramount, and the use of the camera is elegant and discreet. Some see the resulting style dull, when it is a slower, more contemplative way of seeing the world, one where not every question is answered.
What exactly is 'taboo' in Gohatto is clearly the issue of homosexuality - although confusingly for Western audiences such matters are not explicitly forbidden. Reference is made to the military code, which hangs on the barrack walls. Extracts appear on screen too, but no mention is made of prohibiting gay relations between soldiers. A man may be beheaded for illicitly borrowing money, but sleeping with his comrades at arms, while gossip worthy, is only really of concern when discipline is threatened. There "no secrets on Heaven and Earth (and) everyone knows it," says one of the intertitles, and Hojikata himself refers to the "tacit understanding" which normally keeps things in check. A policy which roughly equates to the modern American army's own "Don't ask, don't tell."
The film is helped immensely by Ryuichi Sakamoto's incessant, metronomic score, the steady beat of which considerably amplifies the obsessions and drawn out tensions of events. Like Oshima's interiors, it is uncluttered music, the muted colours dashed with an occasional significant tone. Now and again, urgency and violence break into this world: the initial beheading scene, the murderer's attacks, or the sword battle by the river. As a package, the result readily deserves art house admirers - especially as the director saves the best scene for last, expressing both Hojikata's final position, and a main thread of Gohatto, with hardly a cut more than necessary. Recommended.
Some people have a sexual magnetism so intense that it's scary
for everyone--gay, straight and disinterested--to be around them.
It's because any mature person can sense that a huge and
destructive power has been placed in the hands of someone not
responsible enough to wield it--and that can be pretty much
anyone so cursed/blessed. You feel as if a small, mercurial child
has his fingers on a hydrogen bomb. These are the most attractive
and the most frightening people in the world.
Nagisa Oshima's TABOO is a spellbinding quasi-thriller in which
every scene squirms with a sexual tension that's almost
unbearable. As in MERRY CHRISTMAS MR. LAWRENCE, the tension between Japanese militarist face-saving and an
underlying homoeroticism sizzles to the boiling point.
Oshima has an understated gift for intensifying everything. The
simplest closeups have a charged, my-horniness-is-giving-me-a-migraine sizzle. TABOO resembles
the sixties British Z-movie STATION SIX SAHARA, in which Carroll
Baker enters a desert outpost of military men and causes libidos
to go bananas. Except that here, Oshima diagrams the psychology
as clearly as Kubrick might. TABOO does not perhaps have the
human depth to be a masterpiece, but it is a reminder that Oshima
is the cinema's reigning poet of the war between control and
uncontrol.
for everyone--gay, straight and disinterested--to be around them.
It's because any mature person can sense that a huge and
destructive power has been placed in the hands of someone not
responsible enough to wield it--and that can be pretty much
anyone so cursed/blessed. You feel as if a small, mercurial child
has his fingers on a hydrogen bomb. These are the most attractive
and the most frightening people in the world.
Nagisa Oshima's TABOO is a spellbinding quasi-thriller in which
every scene squirms with a sexual tension that's almost
unbearable. As in MERRY CHRISTMAS MR. LAWRENCE, the tension between Japanese militarist face-saving and an
underlying homoeroticism sizzles to the boiling point.
Oshima has an understated gift for intensifying everything. The
simplest closeups have a charged, my-horniness-is-giving-me-a-migraine sizzle. TABOO resembles
the sixties British Z-movie STATION SIX SAHARA, in which Carroll
Baker enters a desert outpost of military men and causes libidos
to go bananas. Except that here, Oshima diagrams the psychology
as clearly as Kubrick might. TABOO does not perhaps have the
human depth to be a masterpiece, but it is a reminder that Oshima
is the cinema's reigning poet of the war between control and
uncontrol.
क्या आपको पता है
- ट्रिवियाThis was Nagisa Ôshima's only film after his 1996 stroke.
टॉप पसंद
रेटिंग देने के लिए साइन-इन करें और वैयक्तिकृत सुझावों के लिए वॉचलिस्ट करें
- How long is Taboo?Alexa द्वारा संचालित
विवरण
बॉक्स ऑफ़िस
- US और कनाडा में सकल
- $1,14,425
- US और कनाडा में पहले सप्ताह में कुल कमाई
- $9,947
- 8 अक्टू॰ 2000
- दुनिया भर में सकल
- $1,28,374
- चलने की अवधि1 घंटा 40 मिनट
- रंग
- ध्वनि मिश्रण
- पक्ष अनुपात
- 1.85 : 1
इस पेज में योगदान दें
किसी बदलाव का सुझाव दें या अनुपलब्ध कॉन्टेंट जोड़ें