The Woman in the Dunes (Suna No Onna) (1964)

An entomologist and school teacher, Jumpei (Eiji Okada), goes on a trip to the remote lands where the vast sand dunes are. He is there on a research cum pleasure trip to escape from the hustle-bustle of the city. He spends his time exploring the dunes, then traps and collects some sand bugs and insects in tiny containers and tubes that he carries with him.

After he misses the last bus to town, the village locals make him an offer to stay at a local home, which he readily accepts. Only the house is in a sand pit and requires a rope ladder to access. With a rather adventurous spirit, Jumpei ventures in to find that the house is inhabited by a solitary woman (Kyōko Kishida). Somewhat alarmed, but more tired and hungry, Jumpei quickly bonds with the woman over a delicious meal she cooks for him. After a broken sleep that night, Jumpei wakes up to a shocking reality. The ladder that lowered him is gone, and there is no other means of exit. The horrible truth then dawns upon him. In a bizarre arrangement by the village locals, Jumpei is expected to stay on with her forever and help her shovel sand from the pit and haul it up to the villagers above!

Still unable to accept the situation, a furious Jumpei demands answers but only gets some vague explanations in return. We, the audiences, are as dumbfounded as Jumpei is.

But this strange tale told in "The Woman in the Dunes", written by Kōbō Abe and directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara isn't about explanations or the reasoning behind the situation the protagonist has put himself in. It is more about the situation itself! It is rather, a metaphor for human existence and finding meaning in it. Jumpei is a researcher who desires to be listed in a field guide. This could be made possible if he finds a new variety of a particular insect.

This, he thinks is the purpose of his life; at least up until this point, before he finds himself trapped in a sand pit that has now become a microcosm of a self-sufficient universe within which he and the woman are expected to survive. At one point Jumpei questions the woman about the paradox in her existence. "Are you shoveling sand to live, or living to shovel sand?"

Jumpei eventually gives in, and co-operates, for any opposition to this scheme; any rebellion against the captors means no ration (food, supplies, water)! All that is left is to work, eat, sleep and have sex! The latter part comes with the package, apparently. When Jumpei wakes up that morning and before the brutal reality dawns upon him, he finds the woman sleeping naked on the floor, her body only slightly covered by sand blown in by the wind. He calls out to her; she is awake, but pretends to be asleep; just changes positions. Perhaps it is an indication that she is being offered to the man in return for his servitude?

At one point the woman mentions that her husband and daughter got killed in a sandstorm the year before. Could the husband be a man who was brought in in a similar manner? Jumpei keeps his hope alive, and continues to serve. Refusing to get licked by a bunch of natives, Jumpei tries everything in his power. He devises new schemes to escape. Whether success lies in store for Jumpei or not is an added impetus to glue us to our seats as the narrative unfolds in its deliberately paced, enchanting glory.

"The Woman in the Dunes" is said to be a modern version of the myth of Sisyphus, a king in Greek mythology who was condemned by the Gods to perform a task of rolling a boulder up a hill, only for it to roll back down again, then repeat the task! The situation reflects Jumpei's futile chore of shoveling up the sand, that only keeps reappearing; a never ending task that is meaningless. So is there any meaning left to life? Or is this constant cycle the new purpose of his existence? An existential crisis indeed! Jumpei's situation also reflects a very common predicament faced by many a man; a feeling of being trapped in a situation out of which there is no escape.

Shot in beautiful monochrome by Hiroshi Segawa, Teshigahara's film is full of striking, hallucinatory imagery. The director loves close-ups. Initially we see a single grain of sand in close-up, then we see how, it is in fact, an infinitesimal part of a large universe that is the sand dunes. The ever shape-shifting contours on the sand are beautifully captured. Later there are more close-ups; of Jumpei, the woman, their faces, their strands of hair, with visibly distinct grains of sand stuck on them! There are erotic overtones throughout. The attraction (possibly stemming from desperation) between the couple is evident, no matter how much Jumpei hates the situation he is in.

These images, some surreal ones and those of the desolate and hot sand dunes are complemented very well by a distant but eerie high-pitched hum in a spectacularly haunting psychedelic score by Toru Takemitsu. Also noteworthy is the use of natural lighting made more evident in a fantastic scene. It is established that there is a single lamp in the room. Jumpei sits with the lamp in the room that appears lit. He then exits the room with the lamp in his hand. As he goes outside, he takes the brightness of the room with him, as the room plunges into darkness, and the outside lights up!

Teshigahara, in his clever use of symbolism shows how Jumpei, in the beginning, takes great pleasure in seeing some bugs struggling to climb up in his slanted test-tube container and being pulled into the sand which isn't firm enough to hold it. He also pins his specimens in a box that holds all the bugs. In an ironic twist of fate, Jumpei finds himself in similar situations, in his numerous attempts at escaping, including the hopeless efforts of trying to scale the steep sand inclines of the pit and one frightening encounter with quicksand! In turn, he has become a specimen being watched by the villagers in the box that is the sand pit! In another ironic turn of events, Jumpei who earlier in the film scoffs at the woman's claims that sand has the ability to attract moisture, later finds that the joke's on him!

Towards the end as you root for our protagonist, you feel like you are engulfed in a blinding sandstorm that has a suffocating and claustrophobic effect. "The Woman in Dunes" is a miraculous film that ends with a twist in the culmination so overwhelmingly powerful, it will leave you dazed. It is difficult to forget that goose-bumpy feeling long after the final frame.

Score: 10/10

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

4 (Chetyre) (2005)

Thematic surrealism is a term that can aptly describe this fascinating Russian indie written by Vladimir Sorokin and directed by Ilya Khrzhanovsky. "4" (AKA "Chetyre") (2005) brings to mind the excellent number-themed Peter Greenaway film "Drowning by Numbers" (1988). Of course, Greenaway's film excels by a huge margin in terms of creativity and execution, but "4" certainly deserves its fair share of notice.

The number 4 is staring at you in practically every frame of the film. In a rather strange but subtly profound beginning, on a cold night on a desolate street in the city, four stray dogs, suddenly become alert and seconds later escape from the place, squealing, as four legs of a giant machine used to drill holes on the road (possibly for repair work) descend down near them! This amazing beginning immediately grabs our attention and the action (or lack of it) shifts to a nearby bar where the three primary characters (already somewhat introduced in three small scenes) happen to arrive in the late hours to order drinks. The sleepy bartender is the only other person present there (four again!) Over a couple of brews and cigarettes the three get engaged in a rather outlandish conversation that manages to hook us audiences and make us their interested listeners. Tall tales are exchanged; it is clear that they are lies. 

The piano player/tuner Vladimir (Sergey Shnurov) claims to be working as a genetic engineer with a team involved in cloning and claims that clones or doubles, as he calls them, were, and are being made in sets of four twins. He further adds that a lot of experiment results in the form of human clones exist among them, in society and are distributed among some slums near the city! Oleg (Yuri Laguta), a seller of old, dead meat, claims to sell spring water to the officials at the Kremlin and adds that he works closely with President Putin enough to know his and his wife's drinking habits! The only female present there, Marina (Marina Vovchenko) is clearly a prostitute as introduced in an earlier scene, but claims to be in advertising, helping sell a Japanese invention that increases the productivity of workers! Of course, the trio appears to take each other's stories with a pinch of salt and disperse. Only things take a bizarre turn when these fantastical yarns, more specifically, Vladimir's begin to manifest in their realities like a nightmare come true..!

Ilya Khrzhanovsky steers clear of making any explicit references, yet constructs a film that acts like a satire or even an exaggerated parable emphasizing on existing issues in contemporary Russia. A significant portion of the film plays out like a half-asleep weird dream shifting between ground reality and exaggerated excess, and the remainder like a minimalist humanistic drama. It's a unique blend in film and it certainly makes "4" a different breed of cinema from a majority of others. The surrealism itself is not the Bunuel-esque in-your-face or pure, but it clearly distinguishes itself from the rational aspects. 

The aforementioned thematic device keeps you engaged in a clever little spotting game, as various objects, notices, numbers, signboards, etc. appear to somehow hint at the number four in some form or the other. There are some nuanced scenes that satirize certain traits of the characters as well as the Russian sociopolitical situation. The second part of the film, post the long bar conversation is what makes most of the film, and Ilya Khrzhanovsky freewheels into a narrative technique that flip-flops between jarring and captivating! The common surrealistic device of a recurring motif is used to a disquietingly funny effect in the scene of Marina's train journey.

The latter half of "4" takes place in Marina's village. The cinematography here is stupendous when it captures the breathtaking country landscapes and the bleak, foggy and watery surroundings to a mesmerizing effect. These shots are reminiscent of the dilapidation shown in Andrei Tarkovsky's magnificent "Stalker" (1979). Too bad though, that in an act of self-indulgence, the camera takes a life of its own, shakes a lot to a point of giddiness and zooms in to capture awkward and unnecessary close-ups, to the extent of even blurring the image to disappointing levels. It is the final half hour though, that somewhat overstays its welcome in an otherwise engrossing film. 

The proceedings in Marina's village turn out to be an excessively bawdy and gross-out affair with long shots and disconcerting close-ups of a huge gang of old crones who seem to be the only inhabitants of the place other than some three youngsters. These old ladies are constantly loud and vulgar, engaging in drunken feasting and brawling even when in mourning; they undress and tease each other's sagging anatomies, run across the neighbourhood bawling and singing out loud, and for a living, make dolls out of bread that they chew and spit out! In one bitingly amusing sequence amidst the chaos though, the severed head of a giant pig is thrown in the sty of some smaller pigs for them to feast on! As one girl among them rightly describes, it is indeed a madhouse!

Khrzhanovsky also criminally concentrates only on Marina's episode and neglects the characters of Oleg and Vladimir later, although Vladimir's yarn is the primary focus of the story. Oleg only appears twice later and reappears towards the very end, while Vladimir more or less disappears. Any attempts to defend this problem with the film are only excuses to mask the deficient writing. The blatant sidelining wouldn't matter if Vladimir wasn't given so much importance in the film's riveting first hour. A lot of time is spent in making some scenes unnecessarily and frustratingly long, especially in the aforementioned final half hour. The proceedings don't go anywhere; they just stay there and revel in their cacophony. The writers could've instead tried incorporating more ideas and expanded on the proceedings in the lives of the other two characters.

Flaws do disappoint but the larger effect prevails; you know you have seen something refreshingly original and daring. You know you have witnessed some real fine acting and have had a considerably involving audio-visual experience that boasts of some memorable images and excellent sound design. "4" is a true-blue Russian film that celebrates Vodka-drinking like no other! It has a script that could've been better, but nevertheless, one that's quirky as well as clever. So, of course, this one's certainly recommended. Films like these don't come out very often.

Score: 8/10

Killer Joe (2012)

Killer charm, Killer attitude, Killer instinct, "Killer Joe"! But it isn't just the eponymous character of "Killer Joe" (2012) that epitomizes everything that is killer, it is also this crackerjack of a dark comedy from old man William Friedkin who is back in terrific form with his recent masterwork that more than satisfies and earns him renewed respect from this reviewer!

Sure, the plot adapted from the Tracy Letts play is quite been there-done that noir kind of stuff; a plot reminiscent of early Coen Brothers flicks. But Friedkin still manages to make his film a cut above the rest in the crowd. A young punk Chris (Emile Hirsch) who owes some mean loan sharks a lot of money decides to get rid of his namesake mother Adele (Julia Adams) in the hopes of recovering $50,000 from her insurance, of which she has made her daughter Dottie (Juno Temple), the only beneficiary. And for doing this job he decides to hire 'Killer' Joe Cooper (Matthew McConaughey) a cop who has a side business as a contract killer! It all seems too simple on paper, but dealing with the all-powerful Killer Joe is no mean feat! He has rules, and breaking them would mean knocking on death's door! What happens next is best left for the viewer to find out as the film's plot thickens, delivers relentless blows and knocks us out cold as we near its ultra-chaotic, explosive climax!

William Friedkin is in no mood to sugarcoat stuff. This is as brutal as it gets. There's stomach churning violence and some perverse sexuality with a rather unusual twist. Yet the film manages to induce loads of laughs, a nervous chuckle or two and makes sure the viewer has a satisfied smile on his/her face long after the film has ended. This is the kind of stuff that reminds one of Martin Scorsese's 90s flavor, particularly films like "Goodfellas" and "Casino" which showcased over-the-top violence and razor sharp dialog laced with laugh-out-loud hilarious dialog. Add to that the characters are mostly all loonies and weirdos right out of Bunuel's later surrealist works, with dialog that is either way too cleverly funny or absurdly comic and non sequitur. While the characters are all strange, they sometimes exhibit traits that make us connect with them and feel for them. It is these characters and their interactions that make the film much more enjoyable. Sure, some actions and decisions taken by the characters might raise a few eyebrows, but one look at these broken, trailer trash characters, and you would seriously not wonder so much. It is their fragility that makes them act that way. What takes place is far from unconvincing and we simply go along with it, waiting with bated breath as to where it would lead, despite some inherent predictabilities in the narrative.

"Killer Joe" is mostly a performance-driven film. The magnificent display of acting chops from the cast playing the characters is one of the stand-out facets of the film. Emile Hirsch is outstanding as the young lad who is in debt. His predicament inhibits his ability to think straight and his confusion is palpable. He also gets to mouth some of the choicest lines in the film. Thomas Haden Church with his ape-like facial hair and dumb gaze plays the stupid guy Ansel to the T. He trusts anyone and everyone and he seriously looks the part! 

The two leading ladies are even better. Gina Gershon who has always been a tremendous actress, unfortunately left behind among her peers owing to acting in mostly bad films, delivers one of the strongest performances in this film. She looks hot and plays the part of the manipulating, slutty step mother with conviction. A great performance indeed! 

And then there's Juno Temple. Words are not enough to describe this performance of an emotionally troubled young, coy virgin, who believes she was in true love in her third grade with a little fat kid. They never met in isolation, they never spoke about it, and therefore it was true love! In one of the film's funniest aspects she keeps reiterating that he was fat!  It is one funny as well as sad story in her life, that gives way to some developments in the story of the film. Temple is so amazingly natural, the facial expressions, the Southern accent (being an English actress), the mannerisms, everything! Your heart breaks when you see her sob upon realizing that her family is up to something and she'd been kept in the dark about it. Real gem of a performance there.

Which brings us to the leading man, Matthew McConaughey, the star of this enterprise with his godly performance as Joe 'Killer' Cooper. The handsome actor exudes a suave charm with his smooth-talking ways, his kindly mannerisms, his genuine affection and almost in the same breath turns into a fire-breathing, violent, maniacal monster and subjects his audiences to a shock treatment of another kind! One of the finest lead performances of recent times, this is quite possibly McConaughey's career best performance.

Making a unique motion picture out of a done-to-death story is one of the major achievements of "Killer Joe". It is the wonderful script and its unapologetic nature, the interesting motley of characters portrayed with strong performances, a strange mix of vile as well as funny events especially towards the insane, jaw-dropping climax full of madness and mayhem, not to mention the gorgeous cinematography, are primarily responsible for making "Killer Joe" an absolute winner. 

At the ripe age of 75 William FRIEDkin has given Fried Chicken an entirely new meaning and delivered a near-masterpiece! Do not miss "Killer Joe"! It is wicked fun...finger-lickin' good! 

Score: 9/10

 

 

Don't Tell (La Bestia Nel Cuore) (2005)

Cristina Comencini's "Don’t Tell" (2005) (aka "The Beast in the Heart" aka "La bestia nel cuore") was nominated for an Oscar at the 78^th Academy awards! One wonders if there were very few quality films made that year, what with Paul Haggis' strictly average "Crash" (2005) being named the "Best Picture"! This isn't to say "Don’t Tell" is awful, but it certainly is not worthy of appearing in the final five shortlist. Cristina Comencini who also wrote the screenplay based on her own novel probably got a little confused on what to include in the film version and what not to.

Sabina (Giovanna Mezzogiorno) is a dubbing artist for movies, while her boyfriend Franco (Alessio Boni) is a struggling actor who would rather do serious stuff like theater or good films, but is forced to act in a very cheesy TV show. Sabina is haunted by nightmares of something bad happening to her when she was a child; perhaps sexual abuse at the hands of her father! Only she has no real memory of her childhood and sometimes her best friend, a blind lesbian Emilia (Stefania Rocca) tells her stories of the old days, but they all seem to indicate that hers was a normal childhood. In an attempt to seek more answers to such deviant nightmares, Sabina decides to take leave for a considerable while to visit her estranged older brother Daniele (Luigi Lo Cascio), now a professor in a university in the USA. Daniele is happily married to an American woman Anne (Lucy Akhurst) and is blessed with two sons. In the end several answers are provided, which don’t come across as very earth shattering, thanks to a clear lack of focus on the storytelling and an unnecessary digression into territories that are meaningless as far as the context of the film is concerned!

Almost for the entire first hour and more, it is somewhat difficult to put your finger on the actual plot of Comencini's sorrowful tale. The supporting characters seem to divert our attention to them with their subplots that are sometimes interesting but not at the cost of losing our way from the primary story that seems to be Sabina's! There's a whole lot of different angles as to the feelings and emotions of the multitude of characters. This includes Emilia's secret (?) attraction to her closest friend Sabina. One wonders if perhaps she is as close as she is to Sabina out of her romantic attraction for her! Then there's Sabina's older colleague Maria (Angela Finocchiaro) whose 50-something husband dumps her for a young girl who happens to be Maria's daughter's friend, no less! Not to mention, Franco's associations from his TV show shooting, the comely Anita (Francesca Inaudi) who, not surprisingly, falls for Franco and the comical director Negri (Giuseppe Battiston) who strikes an instant friendship with Franco!

Comencini goofs up spending way too much time on the events in the lives of these supporting characters so much so that one feels there's  a connection to the main thread of the story, but sadly there isn't! In an entirely unnecessary subplot, Emilia and the bi-curious Maria get involved with each other in a romantic affair that seems very hollow and superficial to begin with, thanks to Maria’s character providing a lot of comic relief, and rendering her feelings for Emilia far from genuine. Also unnecessary and rather predictable is how Franco gets seduced by the visibly attractive Anita, despite his immense love for Sabina. It all eventually leads us to a rather contrived climax that takes place after a substantial time leap when all relationships portrayed thus far somehow attain a closure; or do they!?

What is especially tepid is the manner in which some important revelations are made during Sabina’s visit to Daniele's place. In a spectacularly acted but slightly melodramatic scene, Daniele pours his heart out to Sabina about what really happened when they were kids. The final conclusion to Daniele’s story ends up like a fizzled out firecracker when it should actually hit us and have a cathartic effect. This, coupled with some more comical scenes towards the end, juxtaposed against a visibly disturbing climactic scene in a train compartment, tend to leave the viewer slightly unaffected due to the rather trivial and non-serious handling. Comencini's central plot had potential and a little more serious cinematic handling of the material could've given "Don’t Tell" an edge and an intensity that it lacks for the kind of subject it deals with. Blame it on the storytelling but we simply fail to connect with the characters as much as we actually should in this kind of a film.

However, Comencini almost gets it right in constructing a watchable film, that nevertheless manages to hold our attention thanks to some fine moments of drama, even if as an overall product, the film fails to achieve its goals and puts up a façade of profundity. "Don’t Tell" also boasts of some remarkably convincing performances. The best performance, hands down, belongs to Giovanna Mezzogiorno with her uninhibited, genuine display of emotions. Also remarkable is Stefania Rocca's blind act as well as Angela Finocchiaro's performance with a touch of humour. Luigi Lo Cascio makes a strong impression in his brief appearance as well.

A noteworthy aspect that stands out is the filming of the silent dream sequences in which we can see the actors move their lips but cannot hear dialog; perhaps an indicator of them being distant, fading, or unclear memories. These scenes and the startlingly surreal visions Sabina has during the aforementioned train compartment sequence are well executed. If only this consistency was retained in the rest of the narrative, "Don’t Tell" would be a much better film. Someone like Pedro Almodovar who has a knack for telling stories laced with soap operatic elements would've done a significantly better job. But in Comencini's hands, the film, despite a powerful central theme, while trying to be disturbing and ambitious, ends up looking like a mini soap opera, replete with mawkish sentimentality and a fake schmaltzy background score to top it up ! A fairly engaging mini soap opera at that, but nothing more.

Score: 7/10

Harakiri (Seppuku) (1962)

When it came to the Japanese Samurai culture, this humble reviewer, like many others, has hitherto been feeding on some epic cinema that has always glorified the Samurai clan. The Samurai have most often come across as these larger than life, valiant warriors, steadfast individuals, heroes who live and die by their Samurai Bushido code and show no mercy on the battlefield. And then comes along Masaki Kobayashi’s masterpiece, which completely turns this belief on its head. The other side of this magnificent figure that we have come to idolize is unveiled in a most brutal, gut-wrenching piece of cinema that is "Harakiri" (AKA "Seppuku") (1962).

The title refers to the Japanese ritual in which a Samurai commits suicide by disemboweling himself with the stab of his own blade/weapon. This was a practice adopted by the Samurai in order to die with full honor, either to save themselves from falling into the hands of the enemy in case of certain defeat, or as a means of redemption from a shame brought upon them, or as a capital punishment for unforgiveable offenses!

It all begins one day in the summer of 1630 (era: Feudal Japan), when a wandering, destitute ex-warrior (Ronin), Tsugumo Hanshiro (Tatsuya Nakadai) arrives at the doorstep of the estate of the Iyi Clan, in order to die by Seppuku, rather than live in poverty. Those were the peaceful times, when the warriors had nothing left to do but earn a meager livelihood doing menial jobs. Tsugumo meets with the Hon. Elder, Saito Kageyu (Rentaro Mikuni) of the Iyi clan, who tells him the story of the fate of another hapless ronin, Chijiwa Motome (Akira Ishihama), from the same clan as Tsugumo, who had come to them with the same intentions not very long ago. In those days, there were stories of some shamed Samurai feigning their wish to perform Seppuku, hoping to be offered some pittance or alms and being asked to move on. There had been known cases of the sort that brought disgrace to the revered Samurai reputation. The Iyi clan, with a determination to change this trend, had set an example of Chijiwa, who had shown some visible cowardice when actually asked to perform the ritual rather than offered alms. Despite Chijiwa’s pleas to be given more time, he was forced by the men of Iyi clan to stand by his word and die by Seppuku, with his fake bamboo blades no less, for cowardliness is unforgiveable for a Samurai!

An unperturbed Hanshiro hears Hon. Elder out and assures him that he has no such intentions of chickening out. Hanshiro seems quite determined too as his cold, zombie-like demeanor speaks volumes of his unshakeable will. But just as the ceremony is about to begin, Hanshiro makes a rather unusual request that changes the shape of things to come and how!

Masaki Kobayashi’s treatment of the story is commendable. His masterful storytelling of Shinobu Hashimoto’s intricately constructed screenplay launches an emotional attack on the viewer. And it isn’t a sudden, but a deliberately paced, tortuous attack that grabs you by the guts, slowly soaks you in a cauldron of tragedy, and leaves you out, emotionally drained! Right from the first frame, Kobayashi takes complete charge and successfully keeps us transfixed, so that we get fully involved in the proceedings. He taps the non-linear narrative in the most effective way so as to play with the viewer’s emotions and judging powers. The great deceiver that he is, he first makes us adhere to one side and then resorts to game-changing moves that make us regret our initial thought process by exposing the façade that shrouds reality!

You watch in awe as the story takes some unwelcome turns, all of them powerful enough to jab you where it hurts. What happens on screen is not always pleasant. There is doom lurking about in every corner of Kobayashi’s universe, but it is a necessity in order to put forth the bold statement that is being made via this film about how pride and honour blind the very essence of humanity! Is pride worth more than a human being? How far should one go to protect the honour of something governed by a code that is dictated by man himself? What some other masters like Akira Kurosawa showed us was the heroism of the Samurai. What Kobayashi shows us is that these heroes are, in the end, mortal human beings. In the face of death and disease, even the toughest warrior can be forced to succumb. But does that render him disgraced? In one powerful scene, Tsugumo curses the possession of his blade and denounces it as a worthless symbol! This is not just about the Samurai. It is about any religion/cult/sect in general, and the bodies that govern them. Principles, norms, codes of conduct carry no meaning when it comes to a human being stripped down to his most basic need of survival!

The black and white cinematography, combined with Kobayashi’s use of slow, calculated, gliding camera movements across closed spaces and long hallways, makes the viewer feel like a spirit floating around, being part of the heartrending story that unfolds. The rather strange, traditional but eerie background score further enhances this feeling. Every frame oozes an extraordinary brilliance. The duel in the windy landscapes of the plains of Gojin-in is surreal, beautifully shot and simply awe-inspiring! 

There’s not a single wasted moment here, right up to the jaw-dropping, explosive finale. The climax is also reminiscent of Akira Kurosawa's magnificent "Throne of Blood" (1957) and one can’t help but think that Brian De Palma has taken considerable inspiration to craft the bloody climatic mayhem in his "Scarface" (1983) from this film! And how can a film like this make its mark without sound, believable performances! Kobayashi leaves nothing for naysayers to nitpick on. The performances are all applause-worthy, with Tatsuya Nakadai ruling the roost in one of the greatest performances in the history of cinema that is, quite shockingly, hardly talked about. The magnificent actor displays a whole gamut of emotions, sometimes reminding us of his cold, ruthless act in "The Sword of Doom" (1966) and then doing an about turn and displaying an utterly human side of him! Those eyes and that voice carry a weight that is palpable! 

It is rare to come across films so vast as this, not in its length, but in its spirit. It is rare to have a winning combination of both a partially minimal style as well as loads of substance. "Harakiri" (1962) is a phenomenal, intense film that exposes the hypocrisy of the Feudal Japanese clan system in its naked entirety; a shattering film experience that will leave you overwhelmed and paralyzed long after it has ended.

Score: 10/10