Passion

This film essentially begins with a bored housewife by the name of "Sonoko Kakiuchi" (Kyoko Kishida) deciding to fill some time by taking some courses at a nearby art school. While there she happens to notice another art student named "Mitsuko Tokumitsu" (Ayako Wakao) and immediately falls in love with her. So much so, that she even transposes Mitsuko's face onto a portrait she was drawing of a female model in her class. It's during this time that the principal of the school notices her artwork and immediately recognizes the difference and remarks about it in front of the class. Needless to say, this causes quite a bit of gossip among the other female students who quickly speculate about a romantic involvement between the two--even though Sonoko has never even spoken to Mitsuko at that time. So, to remedy that situation, Sonoko eventually summons enough courage and introduces herself. Not long afterward, the two become lovers. Naturally, it isn't too long before Sonoko's husband "Kotaro Kakiuchi" (Eiji Funakoshi) and Mitsuko's fiancé "Eijro Watanuki" (Yusuke Kawazu) realize what is happening--and things immediately take a turn for the worse from that point on. Now, rather than reveal any more, I will just say that this was a bizarre romantic drama which clearly benefited from the acting of Kyoko Kishida and the beauty of Ayako Wakao. Admittedly, it starts off a bit slow and features some typical Japanese overacting at times, but even so, I enjoyed this film for the most part, and I have rated it accordingly. Slightly above average.

Lurid. Hysterical. Gaping improbabilities and plot holes. I thought this might be a must-see because of the presence of Kyoko Kishida, long-faced, thick-lipped, huge-eyed woman in Suna no onna made the same year as Manji and the bizarre nurse in Tanin no kao made two years later. Turns out her other-worldliness was Teshigahara's invention. She's had a much varied 44 year career, mostly away from us here. See Manji for Teshigahara's woman and nurse.

The other woman, despite a long, somewhat distinguished career, looks and acts like an Elizabeth Taylor stand-in tumbled out of Tennessee Williams land. But surely this is director Masmura's invention.

(Manji, by the way, is the Buddhist cross on the DVD box.)

By 1964 standards, this film really doesn't mess around, nor does it take any prisoners. It's fairly blatant about the story centering on two women who fall in love, but also don't entirely cut their husbands/male partners out of their lives, which leads to complications and some drastic things that feel a little extreme, but I'd chalk it up to Japan being a different culture at a different time... or just the film trying to make a point, and not necessarily be a reflection of how this situation would play out in real life. Have to accept it's one or the other; I think you just have to admit defeat, in a way, by saying you don't always know for sure when it comes to foreign films.

The dark and emotionally intense places Manji goes also make it feel a bit melodramatic, but again, I can't assume. And even then, if it is melodrama, I think it's mostly well-done melodrama; that kind of thing isn't automatically bad. Maybe there's some repetition and characters saying things in such a blatant way that can feel forced, but it could be partly intended. Perhaps it's wrong to assume it either is or isn't clunky dialogue. The truth could be somewhere in between.

Waffling here. It's not well-paced, but the film is well-acted and I admire how it handled such a story 60 years ago. If some of the melodrama was intended, then I think the writing was acceptably blunt and the performances were effectively heightened. The grimmer parts of the story don't quite devastate the way I thought they would, but that might be owing to the film's structure, with one character narrating a series of events from her perspective. It creates some intrigue, but also some sense of inevitability; a bit of a double-edged sword. And then it also ends pretty suddenly.

But I have to keep coming back to it being good for its time. I wasn't expecting this film to take the approach it did, and I imagine it would've caused at least some controversy in Japan at the time.

Directed and shot with some style, this is a rather lovely tragic drama involving a quartet of characters.

Very Japanese in it's thrust and preoccupations this well told tale pleases and surprises as it unfolds ever unpredictably.

There is much talk of love and betrayal, forgiveness and of course suicide.

The scenes involving the taking of the powders from the bright red squares of paper are astonishing.

Ever beautiful with effective music this not overlong classic of 60's Japanese cinema is a real treat.

You know what ground you're treading with Manji from the get go. From the swastika (the titular Manji) that announces the film's title, there's nothing understated about it. The story of lesbian love between the middle-class wife of a lawyer and a strikingly gorgeous model who poses for painters at the centre of Manji is not of the suggestive 'glances and gestures' variety, this is not a drama on homosexual love repressed by a rigid Japanese society, rather a soaring melodrama masquerading a seemy underbelly of lies and morbid obsession.

It's true that the movie requires on the part of the viewer a few jumps in logic. It asks him to accept that two complete strangers become so obsessed with each other in a matter of days. But this is a two hour movie neatly crammed in 90 minutes so the narrative economy is not wasted. Out of the sweet, alluring love affair between the two women director Yasuzo Masumura twists a progressively more nightmarish, demented scenario, a convoluted story of fatal obsession, the addiction to a perverse love, the need to control and be controlled and how quick humans are to elevate other humans to a pedestal, eager to worship and die for them.

If the movie seems to be twisting and writhing under the burden of its own narrative weight, with small alliances, blood oaths, rifts and reconciliations and all manner of cajoling and petty chicanery taking place between the four major participants (the two women, the husband of one and fiancé of the second) as each tries to win the object of his desire or fend someone else from doing so, stick with it. Masumura has paced the film and shaped his story so expertly that, by the one hour mark, this tale of domestic treachery has spiralled out of control into full blown paranoia, a bizarre and creepy psychological horror film of sorts that happens so naturally and feels so perfectly plausible at that point as to excuse the more overwrought tendencies that preceed it.

The movie reflects that kind of claustrophobic obsession on every level. Limited cast, tight shots, static camera, close grouping of the actors in the frame, no exterior shots, monotonous piano score. Any way you see it, this is a minor aesthetic triumph for Masumura. Strongly recommended.