The Naked Island (Hadaka No Shima) (1960)

Kaneto Shindo's "The Naked Island" (1960) is founded on the same basic premise of other existential 'struggle' films such as Hiroshi Teshigahara's "The Woman in the Dunes" (1964) and more recently Bela Tarr's "The Turin Horse" (2011). It wouldn't be wrong to say that Shindo laid the groundwork for these later films. For a significant part, Shindo's excellent drama of survival finds a closer comparison to Tarr's film, considering a minimal cast, a small family, and a modest existence with the day to day tedium of performing the same, repetitive, physically strenuous routine.

Where this film primarily differs from Tarr's, is in its tone. Tarr's film is excessively bleak with an almost surreal, doom-laden atmosphere and a sonorous dirge-like score, giving it a more hypnotic feel. Shindo's film is a bit more ethereal, simplistic, realistic, embracing nature in its pure, pleasant form with a more ponderous, rather than depressing score to go along.

Shindo's film chronicles a year in the life of a small farmers' family. The husband, the wife and their two sons seem to be the only inhabitants on a lone island in the middle of the sea. They have abundant plantations in some part of the island. However, they have to go through the tortuous task of carrying buckets of fresh water from the neighbouring mainland in order to water their crops.

This takes the form of their daily routine, the purpose of their being. But they are quite content with their life. Post all the routine, they share a happy meal, the kids go on to study, and the parents get on with preparations for the day after. It is the typically dream-like, tranquil country life, cut away from the stress, pollution and noise of the city, complete, with even the usage of a large, firewood-heated drum of water for bathing. There are, not surprisingly, all joyous smiles on the faces of the foursome as they indulge in these small pleasures of life.

The first forty odd minutes of the film are spent showcasing the couple's daily tasks, which mostly comprise of carrying buckets of water from one island to the other and watering of the crops. That's all! But ever frame drips so much beauty, it is difficult to complain about the filmmaker's indulgence in capturing the scenery in this beautiful, but challenging world. The silhouetted figure of the boatman against a dusky sky, close-up of water seeping in slowly in the soil, a delicate, emotional moment contrasted with fireworks, are all paintings in motion really.

Occasionally there are shots of a single pine cone floating in the water. There are at least ten such shots of this cone! Very beautiful, all these shots, thanks to the outstanding cinematography. Well, the same pine cone needn't have been shown ten times, but that's excusable in the larger context of the film's objective. Shindo wants us to soak in this world. He wants us to take a dip in the ocean. He wants us to feel the languor. He wants us to really live on the island for those ninety-five odd minutes of its duration. The only deviation that occurs in the first half of the film is the somewhat alarming slapping incident, which we will come to later.

It is in the final half of the film, that the happenings divert and we get to see a lot more than just their day to day activities. Seasons change, moods change, there is a fleeting glimpse of some traditional celebrations and gatherings of the locals. And then there is that awesome scenario of the big fish catch, its selling in town, clubbed with a cable car joyride and a hearty meal at a restaurant, something they don't often get to indulge in, or simply don't, as a matter of choice.

One wonders if the illness of one the sons that follows eventually, owes itself to that infrequent trip to town and that rare meal outside of their humble abode. So far they are used to having home-cooked meals from their own crops and earnings. And now with foreign grounds being trodden, does their system lose balance?

"The Naked Island" is an expertly crafted chain of ups and downs in the life of a family. There is happiness, and there's a tragedy. And finally there's the message that life has to go on, no matter what. The lack of dialog complements the primitive, earthy nature of the family's existence. While Shindo, the director is in top form for the most part and delivers as far as a putting out a fine product is cinema is concerned, it is the pacing that leaves a bit to be desired. Rapid editing in the latter half and a fast passage of time in contrast to the languorous, almost real time depiction of events in the first half, renders the film unevenly paced.

It is the final act, where the crux of the film comes in, which makes one ponder about what it's driving at. On one hand, this is a family that lives a simple hand-to-mouth, satisfied life. Almost zero materialism; just work hard, eat, get a good night's sleep, repeat! Perhaps that is what the title alludes to.

The island is naked, stripped of concrete jungles, modern technology, worldly pleasures and practically anything that has to do with the contemporary urban life as we know it. The family represents the island they thrive on. The island is their life. Whether this kind of lifestyle, no matter how healthy and cut out from technology and modern science is actually not a cool way to live, no matter how human? Or is it simply suggesting that whether you are a slave to the modern life, or whether you shun it completely, there's practically no difference?

The attitude of the husband seems to suggest so. He slaps the woman for a small error. She quietly resumes her duties without protesting. Later, the son dies, but there is no room for grieving. The woman clearly has her heart elsewhere. But the husband ignores his woman's bawling and continues to water the plants! The woman watches him and follows suit. This scene is perhaps the most crucial part of the film.

Does it mean that even if connected to nature, a general insensitivity comes in anyway? The existence of these folks is almost robotic, going through the same rigmarole day in day out. Similar to any materialistic family in the city, where the modern man has no time to look up from his tablet or computer; where the human connect is lost, and reality is virtual, a lack of emotion; where perhaps a conference call is more important than the wife's birthday, for example.

So how different is the humble farmer's behaviour from the modern man, really? Shindo gives us something to think about.

The concluding shot of the camera zooming out, revealing the island in the vast sea, perhaps suggests something on similar lines, that the lives of the members of this family serve as a microcosm for the entire universe surrounding it. The family is but a miniscule part of the whole, that essentially follows the same pattern.

Score: 9/10

Kuroneko (1968)

A woman and her daughter-in-law are ravaged, brutalized and killed by a gang of hungry, lost samurai in a war-torn feudal Japan. They steal and eat their food, coldly burn down the house with their bodies inside, the signs of which are first seen as smoke emanating from it, which looks almost fog-like. All this happens in the first ten, silent, dialog-free minutes of the film, one of the most shocking beginnings to ever grace celluloid.

The women return as vengeful ghosts, part human, part black cats, and unleash deadly revenge, not only on their perpetrators but the entire samurai clan by bringing in a prey each night, getting him drunk, seducing him and later feasting on his blood!

An all too familiar story, perhaps heard many a times, in not just Japanese folklore but elsewhere as well. A classic ghost story, is mostly a classic ghost revenge story and usually it is about a woman scorned, isn't it? But we have Kaneto Shindo at the helm and hence any skepticism regarding the done-to-death B-horror plot synopsis is allayed and expectations are automatically raised, after his masterful "Onibaba" (1964) that knocked the ball right out of the park with its fabulous retelling of an old Shin Buddhist parable.

In "Kuroneko" (1968) the story is not as unique as in "Onibaba", thanks to the countless film and TV show versions that adapted the same tale and recycled it every which way. So in "Kuroneko", don't be surprised to find familiar material full of revenge, werewolves (or werecats, in this case, to be more specific!), ghosts, seduction and vampirism. But then what makes "Kuroneko" so different if at all? Plenty!

For one, it has the 1960s Japanese New Wave aesthetics. It was the golden period of Japanese cinema when some rebellious filmmakers broke free from conventional studio shackles and experimented away with radically new ideas in storytelling and filmmaking devices. The result was a great number of top quality films that fully realized their directors' vision. This film comes from Kaneto Shindo's own production company as well. Like Hiroshi Teshigahara, Shindo has his distinct visual style. All that made "Onibaba" so visually enthralling is there in "Kuroneko". Filmed in wide-screen black and white, chiaroscuro lighting effects with graceful and gliding camerawork make "Kuroneko" one of the most stylistically polished films of the time dealing with a horror story such as this. 

The blood and creature makeup effects are all there, and quite well accomplished at that, without coming off as shoddy or fake, a monumental achievement considering it was made a time when modern devices to pull off such effects were rare. Shindo also makes use of the Chūnori technique predominantly a part of the Kabuki theatre, which allows the ghosts to do back flips and get pulled up in the air right through the roof by means of invisible wire! The Taiko drum and low melancholic string score amidst long, uncomfortable moments of silence broken only slightly by a cat's meow, the fog effects in an empty house beyond the moonlit bamboo grove render a deliciously eerie atmosphere that modern horror filmmakers struggle to achieve in their works.

It is not just on the technical front that the film succeeds. Amidst all the (albeit in minor doses) body horror, with hairy limbs, slanted eyebrows, a woman's pony tail that waggles like a cat's tail, and supernatural elements such as evil gods and monsters, there is plenty of humanistic, compassionate drama at its heart.  Kaneto Shindo's tale doesn't end only with revenge and killings. In a twist of fate, the woman's son Gintoki (Kichiemon Nakamura) comes back from war three years after the killing of the women, as a valiant warrior who is taken in by the local warlord Raiko (Kei Sato) and is entrusted with the responsibility of tracking down the monster that is killing and feeding off the blood of the samurai. This is where the story takes a dramatically different route and shifts from a tale of horror to a tale of grief, loss, and longing. 

There is a poetic beauty in those scenes when the tearful mother Yone (Nobuko Otowa) performs a silent dance as her daughter-in-law's ghost makes love to her son who has returned a fine man. There is a delicate grace and sensuality to the love scenes. An otherworldly joy of immense satisfaction is seen on Shige's (Kiwako Taichi) face as she clutches her husband tightly in a warm embrace after years of separation. It is a moment that is heartwarming as well as heartbreaking, for the viewer knows that the separation is not merely bodily, but worldly too, for the couple now exist in different worlds. Their chemistry and a subsequent speech by Raiko highlight the underlying subtext about inherent class differences, of the respectable nobility, the weak farmers and finally the honour of the samurai.

The ever-bankable Kei Sato, the young Nakamura Kichiemon and the women Kiwako Taichi and especially Nobuko Otowa deliver with solid performances that range from restrained to highly theatrical and Kaneto Shindo holds his grip firm on a steady pace all throughout the narrative except in some portions where it slackens. Some startling revelations and bits that follow come across as slightly clumsy and unconvincing even in the film's supernatural universe, compared to the quality control exercised in the rest of the film. Nevertheless, the iconic image of the black cat's limb in the woman's mouth quickly brings things back on track and cements Kaneto Shindo's status as one of the most talented filmmakers to have happened to Japanese cinema, his humungous filmography being relegated to obscurity, notwithstanding.

Score: 9/10

Onibaba (1964)

"The Hole…Deep and Dark - Its darkness has lasted since ancient times": A worded opening with an image of a large hole in the ground surrounded by some of the tallest blades of wavering grass open the film and make us wonder if we are watching a Japanese Horror B-film or a folklore ghost story, the kind our grandmas narrated to us as kids! Later, a soundtrack of Taiko drums and jazz music follows, that almost startles, but entices with its infectious rhythm. "Onibaba" (1964), then unfolds in its chilling and raw glory, and all preconceptions are shattered as it leaves an indelible impression on the viewer.

Based on a Shin Buddhist parable (not entirely wrong to use the word folklore then), "Onibaba", set in the war stricken 14^th Century Japan tells the story of three individuals left to survive in the harsh world of hunger and poverty. While menfolk are sent off to battle, a woman (Nobuko Otowa) and her comely daughter-in-law (Jitsuko Yoshimura) struggle to make ends meet while waiting for news from their man Kichi, her son and the younger woman's husband. They are reduced to stealing from lost and wounded soldiers, by sometimes killing them, in order to sell their armors and weapons to a local fence who exchanges the goods for food grains. The two women seem to find solace in each other in the big brutish world, but this equilibrium is disturbed when Hachi (Kei Sato) who went to war with Kichi escapes from the army, returns and declares that Kichi got killed in combat.

"Onibaba" is a simple tale, yet one that packs a mighty powerful punch with its potent underlying theme and rich symbolism. Kaneto Shindo showcases a universe in which man is stripped down to his most basic (literally!). The primary characters all live an animal-like life. Capture anything that is living and kill it, either to steal off it, or roast it on a fire to gorge on its flesh! In the end it all boils down to satisfying one's hunger. But Shindo's film focuses not only on the physiological hunger, but also the physical one! The ravenous appetite of the stomach is supplemented with a sexual appetite that is far too great, owing to a prolonged deprivation in such dangerous times of living on the edge! Excess of it can lead to a blinding effect and even the soundest of human minds can stray. Shindo’s characters are far from sound; at least two of them.

Hachi is anything but likeable but he makes for a compelling character of a lustful peasant who looks at the young wife of Kichi with hungry eyes and seems to have no remorse for his dead friend. The older woman is a tormented individual torn apart between sin and morality; a woman who hasn't had a man in several years. Sexually repressed but morally steadfast so far, she finds herself becoming a victim of ever increasing jealousy that stems from the attention her daughter-in-law gets from Hachi! 

The younger woman on the other hand, stands by her mother-in-law, is loyal to her husband, but after a while of mourning upon hearing of his death, lets lust overpower her sorrow and attempts to answer the opportunity that knocks in the form of the only living man around who shows interest in her! The sexual tension here is palpable; so is the smile tinged with guilty pleasure that appears on the younger woman's face whenever she hears Hachi's knocking. It is a fascinating display of traits that are at their convincing best, given the sorry condition these poor beings are forced to live with.

Shindo paints a believable picture of the era and its medieval lifestyle, with its casual nudity and raw sex; the latter not merely for titillation but to make us see and realize the hunger! He uses gorgeous chiaroscuro in stark black and white cinematography; an effect that is especially enhanced in the scenes shot in the dark, inside the hutments and also when it captures the actors' faces in close-ups. The actors do a terrific job as well, with Nobuko Otawa delivering the greatest performance in the film. 

The meticulous use of lighting gives off a rather eerie aura to every frame; something like a surreal painting or the artwork from a book of old ghost stories. Breathtaking images of the lush marshlands full of tall grass that sways in the wind gives an additional creepy effect; an unsettling feeling of an invisible ghost rustling through it! The aforementioned Taiko drum score is catchy and addictive, especially due to the racy drum beat interrupted by a staccato that ends with the sound effect akin to the muffled scream of someone suddenly pierced with a spear!

And then there is the mask! There is rarely anything quite so ugly and scary as the ominous mask in "Onibaba"! The mask, its grotesque and dramatic appearance and usage in the story is often said to be an influence of the Noh theatre. The mask, apart from being the most integral part of this story, is responsible for creating some nail-biting tension in the film that gradually builds to a crescendo and finally delivers to the ghastly climax which will leave you gasping for breath with its extraordinary intensity!

Kaneto Shindo's "Onibaba" is a terrifying psychological horror masterpiece that takes us to the deepest and darkest depths of depravity, envy and greed that plague the human mind and make demons out of men. To miss it would be a sin. Save yourself from hell…watch "Onibaba"!

Score: 10/10