La storia dell'ultimo crisantemo

Kiku (Shotaro Hanayagi), a proud but mediocre kabuki actor from a prominent theatre family is feted to his face but mocked behind his back. The only honest criticism comes from Otoku (Kakuko Mori), a young servant woman but when Kiku falls in love with her, he is rejected by his adopted father and, to prove himself (and the value of Otoku's support), he decides to establish a reputation as an actor independently of his family's influence. The trope of 'defiant love between classes' is culturally universal (and well-trodden) and Kenji Mizoguchi's theatre-melodrama doesn't add much new (other than, to my eyes, the kabuki venue). Otoku is young, sincere and vulnerable but, as the story progresses, not much is done to develop her character beyond 'long-suffering loyalty'. Kiku is a bit more volatile but the resolution to the young couple's travails comes off as overly convenient and the story's conclusion borders on the maudlin. The film is lauded for Mizoguchi's direction and the striking cinematography, especially the long-takes and 'dolly shots' and, despite my reservations about the plot and characters (which likely reflect my 'Western' perspective 85 years after its release), I found it eminently watchable (albeit a bit slow-going). Needful viewing for anyone interested in early Japanese cinema or in Mizoguchi's oeuvre (but not in the same league (IMO) as his post-WW2 works such as 'Ugetsu' (1953) or 'Sansho the Bailiff' (1954)).

Mizoguchi's 1939 masterwork is one that sneaks up on you to where its ending is so devastating because of how Mizoguchi never gives you that tight two shot or intense close ups. You have to WATCH this film but it can bring you in unexpectedly; shots at first may appear to be languid, veering maybe towards an early Bela Tarr film. But not too soon after it begins Mizoguchi's feminist (scatch that, simply a deeply felt humanist) view of the world, that oppression from familial obligations and guilt creates the tragedy of it all.

The Kabuki and theatrical performances were the only parts I felt things lag a bit for me; I readily admit not being from Japan or understanding this anachronistic style (ironically but correctly Mizoguchi ups his pace for cutting in these scenes, there are more cuts and more reactions from the audience). I nevertheless think this is so powerful because of the purity of its story, that it is challenging the hierarchical structure of the period while coming to a conclusion in its final section where artistic triumph and tragic fate collide.

Some may actually read into Osuka that she is a "doormat", like how can she look past anything she wants all for a man who, for much of the story - a man cant live up to his own standards as an actor, or to his families demands for him to be the next BIG actor in line, so he leaves home to cut his own path, with this woman who was once his little brothers wet nurse as his lover but more importantly his booster - lacks confidence. But I found myself rooting for him and finding that he was not unsympathetic; when he does get angry and pissy at one point the feeling is not hate but one of "come on you can put it together! Do it for her if nothing else!"

There is suffering, quite so much so. But is showing the status quo, how men use women, being a critique here or simply showing it as it was/is in 1939 and before? So much of Last Chrysanthemum is painful to watch, yet in a way that I can never pull away from. A lot of it comes back to how he uses the camera and editing - take a key moment between these two people near the end and he never goes for the easy close up or two shot, we have to see this from one end of the room, but the emotion is laid bare - and that everyone in the cast knows how to play for it being about the firmness, even sanctuary nature, of the status quo.

At times melodramatic as any soap but directed with the fluidity and timing of a confident old master (Mizoguchi was 40 when he made this, and really John Ford and his long, absorbing masters and mediums are a better comparison than Tarr), this was an experience that brought me in gradually from one melancholic but realistically drawn scene after another. Certainly not something to watch to get in a "happy" mood, but then when is with this filmmaker? (still not quite so soul crushing as Sansho the Bailiff, but close).

I wish I spoke fluent Japanese--then I am sure I could have enjoyed the movie so much more. That's because this movie had horrible subtitles and often sentences or more were simply left untranslated or 50 words in Japanese were distilled down to only 3 or 4 words. In essence, the translators were very lazy and did a terrible job. Some might not mind this, but since I am a very avid fan of Japanese films it seriously detracted from the experience. This does NOT mean it is unwatchable or you should avoid it. In fact, if anyone knows of a better version available to Western audiences, let me know.

The plot itself seems very familiar and is reminiscent of some other films, as its main ideas are respect for your elders and unrequited love. The main character is madly in love with his step-brother's nursemaid and the family strongly opposes it. I don't really think I need to divulge more but felt that the actors did a fine job and the story itself was interesting.

UPDATE: There is a new DVD version from Criterion and I assume it's much better than the DVD I saw. Criterion always seems to do good jobs with subtitles on their film releases.

(1939) The Story OF The Last Chrysanthemums (In Japanese with English subtitles) DRAMA

To describe this film, one have to expect something from Yasujirô Ozu's ballpark, since it centers on a young couple's forbidden relationship. And it's a different kind of movie that's not like director, Kenji Mizoguch's "Ugetsu monogatari" or "Sansho The Baliff". But, before I go on, I just want to say that movies about very young innocent relationships starting out are usually met by three obstacles whether it's about real life, like Lady Diana or otherwise. And if you can't adapt then don't watch it since you'll probably never get into it. The obstacles I've been noticing that's most apparent are usually tradition, custom and honor. For instance, in "Sabrina"-it's custom, and on some royal heir movie like "The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg"- it's tradition. Adapted from the novel written by Shôfû Muramatsu centers on a young actor by the name of Kikunosuke Onoue (Shôtarô Hanayagi) falling for the family maid, Otoku (Kakuko Mori) since she was the only one honest with him about his bad acting, in comparison to the people who're around him who are always sucking up to him up, just because he's connected to the family name. And after a close encounter, mom then fires her after a long time of faithful service solely for that reason since people are already talking, with Kikunosuke's dad at the same time forbidding him to ever see Otoku ever again. He, of course rebels, and it was at this point is when his dad kicks him out of the family household while young Kikunosuke strives to become a better actor with Otoku at his side. Anybody who understands theatre in general will probably be much more involved than the viewers sticking to movies, since it also involves a traveling troupe. In comparison to Ozu movies, this movie takes risks by using the centered protagonist by using him to take a step further by rebelling the custom rather than accepting it which doesn't happen in Japanese movies often. 3.

No one could hold a static shot longer than Japanese director Kenji Mizoguchi-and be highly praised for it. In what is regarded as his pre-World War Two masterpiece, Mizoguchi's October 1939 "The Last of the Chrysanthemums," the 140-minute movie contains half the shots of what a normal Hollywood film has, giving credence to his moniker, the "one scene-one long shot" director. Mizoguchi avoided close-ups, preferring his camera to be like a fly on the wall, observing at a distance the drama unfolding in front. He spiced this with an occasional dolly move from one room to another.

Film reviewer James Berardinelli observed, "Opting for long, unbroken takes from mid-range (there are no close-up), the director relied on dollies and cranes to all the camera to move seamlessly from one location to another. Although this approach creates a distance between the viewer and the characters and makes us more like voters than participants, it does nothing to diminish the story's emotional impact."

During one crucial sequence where Kikunosuke Onoe, aka Kiku (Shotaro Hanayagi in his movie debut), the adopted son of popular kabuki actor Kikugoro Onoue (Gonjuro Kawarazaki), leaves his family, Mizoguchi sustains a single nine-minute shot moving from one room to the other to capture the anger of his father. At the same time he shows Kiku's mother emoting how sad she is on her son's departure. The sequence, notes film critic John Pym, is a great example of Mizoguchi's use of a sparse interior "offset by shots of notably uncluttered spaces," featuring his static shots "crammed with human detail."

Mizoguchi's film, based on a short story by Shofu Muramatsu, opens with Kiku stinking up the joint acting in onnagata dramas, where he plays female roles just like his father. Everyone is afraid to tell Kiku his acting is bad, except for Otoku (Kakuko Mori), a nurse in his father's household. She's fired from her job for being too close to Kiku, who wants to marry her. After Kiku leaves his parents, he sticks to acting, spending many years with Otoku, who becomes his common law wife. Because his level of acting pays so little, he experiences dire poverty for the sake of honing his craft. Finally, his performances are much improved, but he needs help from his father to get the opportunities to prove he's a much greater talent than he was previously. The elder Onoue agrees, with one stipulation: he breaks from Otoku. This sets up one of the saddest endings in Japanese cinema, according to several critics.

Mizoguchi's films emphasize women's plight in Japanese society, both historically and in contemporary times. "The Last of the Chrysanthemums" harkens back to the late 1800's in Tokyo and Osaka. "With more said by showing less, operatic heartbreak and sentimentality and anger are pictured in formal precision, not a moment or scene or actor out of place," writes film critic Donald Levit.

"The Last of the Chrysanthemums" was ranked by BBC critics as the 88th best non-English film in the history of cinema, while the British Film Institute selected it as one of the top ten best films ever made. Mizoguchi, who is largely known for his later works such as 1953's "Ugetsu" and 1954 "Sansho the Baliff," has this 1939 motion picture included in '1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die.'