Yashagaike

I am on a quest to find American distribution of the Japanese film, Yasha-ga-ike (1979) Demon Pond, by Director, Masahiro Shinoda.

Summary: It is an extraordinary and beautiful cinematic experience. It was artistically, emotionally, and imaginatively powerful. I was drawn into the film, like the main character is drawn into the magical realm of the "Lady of the Lake." It is a transcendent adventure story and romance, that evokes the relationship between humans and the natural world, and everyday life and the life of the imagination. I was transformed by the magic of the film.

I rate it as one of my favorite films of all time, along with Cocteau's Orphee.

I saw the film in the 1980's,in the Toyo Theater (a Japanese Theater) in Seattle. The Toyo Theater no longer exists. I have looked a number of times, but I can't find the film anywhere. I know that it played in Seattle again at an Art Museum in the 1990's, but I wasn't able to see it then.

I would also like to show Yasha-ga-ike to students, and perhaps combine it with Ugitsu, or Orphee.

I would love to see the film again. Does anyone know where or how to find it in America?

For sheer unbridled culture shock there is nothing like Japanese cinema. I have one friend who gave me a series of films about a team of crack Japanese school girls who battle crime with a variety of lethal yo-yos. Another friend dragged me kicking and screaming to the Somerville Theater (back during its brief incarnation as an Art-House) to see Demon Pond, based on a popular play by B. K. Izumi and directed by Masahiro Shinoda. It's the story of a university student who travels to a small town in search of his professor, who left the university without word some years before. The professor is found living with his wife in a small house by a pond outside the village. He had promised a dying man that he would ring a large bell twice a day to prevent the demons from escaping from the pond and destroying the nearby village. The professor doesn't really believe in the demons, or the bell, but the problem with cynicism is that you can never rely upon it in a crunch (cause a true cynic can't really believe in cynicism either), so twice a day he's been ringing the bell, just in case. The townspeople don't believe in demons either, and there is grumbling that all this bell ringing is somehow the cause of the drought which has been plaguing the town for over a year. In the middle of all this controversy appears a pair of crustaceans with their own argument which carries over into the pond, where you meet the court of the Dragon Princess, who is trying to escape the pond to be with her boyfriend who's trapped in another pond. The Dragon Princess and the Professor's wife are played by a man, Tamasaburo Bando (one of Japan's most famous Kabuki players) and many of the scenes are staged in the Kabuki tradition, especially the scene in the pond (which resembles a Kabuki version of Pee-Wee's Playhouse) and an extremely elaborate tea ceremony (which goes on so long I was left thinking that the tea couldn't possibly still be hot.) Eventually the villagers take action, convince the professor to stop ringing the bell by threatening to tie his wife to a cow and send it careening into the pond. Cynicism loses in a spectacular demonstration of the consequences of messing with pond demons. I actually ended up going to see this film a second time, dragging some of my other friends kicking and screaming to the Somerville Theater. After all, the most fun you can have with foreign film is inflicting them on others.

"Demon Pond" is an wonderfully and stylishy presented allegorical fantasy. Its sudden (conscious) transition to artifice will catch you off guard, and may ruin things for those who are accustomed to more realistic narrative. But those willing to drift into a world of crab-humans, "mud people," and other admittedly Roger Corman-esquire creatures will enjoy this film's lush images. When critics refer to Ang Lee's gravity-defying romance/fantasy "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" as "the reason we go to the movies," they could very well use "Demon Pond" as another example. Despite its theatrical nature at times, it's full of otherworldly sensual pleasure that you could only get from a film. The mise-en-scene is exquisite, the eerie soundtrack unlike anything you've heard in a movie. The special effects at the end are breathtaking if you've escaped from your seat and managed to float into the world of the film...and don't let the occasionally silly subtitling ruin this two-hour fantasy. On top of it all, there are metaphors and themes to be uncovered everywhere. See this one on 35mm if you can!

YASHAGAIKE (Demon Pond) has been missing from the Home Video Market for far too long (as in forever). How very strange that one of the few examples of Bando Tamasaburo's art, and perhaps his most accessible to the west, is so little known. I first saw this film on the late-lamented "Z Channel" in Los Angeles in the early 1980's and have always wanted to become reacquainted with it. If memory serves, it was such a surprise to see so many genres, visual styles of scenery, costume, lighting and period assembled with such naiveté in one film. Perhaps that is one of the reasons that it is not readily available. Also, my one viewing on television gave the impression of already fading non-technicolor processing. I hope that this is wrong. Yet, anyone who has seen "Das Geschriebene Gesicht" by Daniel Schmid (only available on PAL at the present), or Tamasaburo's collaboration with Yo-Yo-Ma in his Bach series will be anxious to see anything by the great Kabuki onnagata. Perhaps "Natassia" will appear some day.

Others here have described the film more than adequately, all I have to add is that of Feb 2021, Shochiku have announced that it will be digitally remastered and re-issued. I hope I get a chance to rework the subtitles!

Back in those days, when videotape wasn't readily available, we sat in a screening room, watched the film, made notes and received an audio tape of the dialogue to work on back at home - using audio cassette player, the original (often uncorrected) Japanese script and a typewriter. As you can imagine, it was difficult, if not impossible to remember all the actions and nuances that must be addressed to make the subtitles work seamlessly, especially since Japanese can be very vague at times, often leaving out the subject, or the object of a sentence, so he/she, or here/there, that/this must often be guessed at. It was always a painful experience to watch the complete subtitled film, surrounded by the producers and usually the director, continually wincing at what must have looked like simple translation errors.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the remastered masterpiece by often underrated genius of Japanese cinema, Shinoda Masahiro.