Tsigoineruwaizen

"ZIGEUNERWEISEN is the best among the trinity, for being a more ludic and freewheeling vehicle that is almost unperturbed by affective force, and its psychic elements are more pellucid (a young daughter communicates with her dead father through dreams, versus the elusive suicidal pact in KAGERO-ZA), plus the inclusion of a triad of blind mendicant minstrels, chanting ribald ditties while the hierarchy of their sex preference goes through an irreverent modulation."

read my full review on my blog: cinema omnivore, thanks!

A surreal period film following a university professor (Toshiya Fujita) and his eerie nomad friend (Yoshio Harada) as they go through loose romantic triangles and face death in peculiar ways.

Director Seijun Suzuki was terminated from his contract with Nikkatsu Studios in 1968 for making "movies that make no sense and no money" (specifically "Branded to Kill") and was subsequently blacklisted. In the following years he conversed frequently with his crew at his home and continued developing ideas for new projects. Suzuki's blacklisting ended with the release of his critically and commercially unsuccessful 1977 film "A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness". But it was "Zigeunerweisen" that brought him lasting acclaim.

You might wonder, why does a Japanese film have a German title? Well, "Zigeunerweisen" (also known as "Gypsy Airs") is a musical composition for violin and orchestra written in 1878 by Pablo de Sarasate, based on themes of the Roma people. This composition provided the title and much of the soundtrack for Seijun Suzuki's film. Indeed, the concept of wandering is intrinsic to the plot.

But this is less about plot and more about dreamlike imagery. There are many strange visuals. Not outright bizarre, but some things bordering on performance art. One scene, for example, has two men buried in the sand beating each other with rods. Why is this necessary? It isn't, but is all a part of what makes the film memorable.

"Zigeunerweisen" was a surprise success in Japan, both commercially and critically; it took home the Japanese Academy Awards for best picture, director, and supporting actress, and the prestigious Kinema Jumpo awards for best director, film, screenplay, actress, and supporting actress. Suzuki was not just back, he was finally recognized as a real treasure. This success naturally lead to future films, and this became the first part of Suzuki's Taishō Roman Trilogy, followed by "Kagero-za" (1981) and "Yumeji" (1991). Not sequels or a trilogy in a strict sense, they are each surrealistic psychological dramas and ghost stories linked by style, themes and the Taishō period (1912-1926) setting.

In North America, Kino International released a DVD edition of the film in 2006. It features a 25-minute interview with Suzuki discussing the making of the Taishō Roman Trilogy, a biography and filmography of the same, the theatrical trailer and a gallery of promotional material and photographs. The Arrow Video Blu-ray brings these features along for the ride. On top of that, they offer a high-definition presentation and a new introduction to the film by critic Tony Rayns.

I never thought I would say this about a Seijun Suzuki film, but my god was this boring. For starters, its meandering story told at a snail's pace should have been about an hour shorter. It often felt surreal just for the sake of being surreal, e.g. The trio of beggars with bizarre affectations singing their raunchy songs, the eyeball licking, etc. Other times it was just banal, with conversations that seemed pointless to me. It is marginally better in its final half hour, but that's not saying much. I never felt cohesion or a payoff that warranted all of the silliness, and this is not one I'd care to sit through again.

The film follows the relationship between two men in early middle age. One is a prim university professor and the other is some sort of "wild man" masculine archetype.

Like in Rouroni Kenshin, the time period for this film is one where the modern Japan and the traditional Japan were clashing, at least in fashion choices. The professor dresses in formal European attire, while the wild man is invariable seen in an ominous black kimono.

Yet the archetypes they represent are universal, not specifically Japanese. The professor, unemotional and flabberghasted into silence at the sight of anything out of the ordinary, is reserved and inhibited, representing civilization. The wild man goes about the world following his whims, getting involved sexually with a bevy of women and doing anything he can to satiate his curiosity. In conversation he is open, apparently always expressing whatever emotion-tinged crazy ideas come into his mind and running with them. Yet are they really so crazy? We see much of the unspoken thoughts that reside in all of our minds in his dialogues. He simply does not have the filter to keep them back.

It's too surreal to effectively convey its message, if indeed it has any message at all, but it's effective at creating a certain ambiance. Although the professor doesn't show himself to be very moved, we are enthralled by the wild man's antics that leave a trail of broken hearts and destruction in their wake. Whether he's manhandling women, speaking glibly about death, or simply sitting there in his striking black cape and eyepatch, we are always interested in discovering what outrageous thing he will do next.

Honourable Mentions: The Great Santini (1979). Robert Duvall tried to embody the quintessential male in his ageing marine in this film, but it came up short. Santini is rough and wild in his own way, but he lacks the mystique and outlandish outrageousness of Nagasako, still very much trapped in convention and thus not as interesting.

I understand 1980s japan liked it.

I understand most people on here like it 10/10 and such.

I dont really care about why it's a German name or any of the factiods on the Wikipedia page.

I enjoyed it as an experience, but the story was kinda vague. If you're gonna watch this appreciate it as you would a painting. But don't watch this for the story.