The Pitfall (1962) was Hiroshi Teshigahara's debut as a fiction film director. I've got to say that this is an incredibly ambitious film for a debut because it barely keeps itself together during the 90-minute running time. Initially the film seems like a story of two miners trying to make a living, but eventually it ends up becoming a cryptic mystery combined with a ghost story and social critique. There's also a (possibly unintentional) level of dark comedy that becomes dominant on a few instances. The narrative rushes between these different aspects at such a fast pace that I'm not sure what to make of this film even though there are obvious hints of brilliance scattered all over the film.
Even if you think the screenplay fails there's a lot to be enjoyed about the film's form. Takemitsu's sparse and experimental musical score sets the atmosphere all the way from the very first scene with its menacing tone. Segawa's striking black and white cinematography is guaranteed to pull anyone into the film's fascinating world.
The Pitfall was the first of three collaborations between the director Teshigahara, avant-garde novelist Abe, experimental composer Takemitsu and brilliant cinematographer Segawa (the first three collaborators would also make another film together afterwards). One of the other collaborations would be Woman of the Dunes (1964), one of my favorite films of all time. The Pitfall pales in comparison to this masterpiece because it is incapable of handling its own ambition in writing.
Score: 8 out of 10
The second story, Woman of the Snow, also focuses on love, but it takes a totally different approach to the subject. What really sets this story apart is its haunting and bittersweet atmosphere, it is not as directly scary or creepy as the other stories. The way snow is portrayed (even though it was shot on interior sets) is unforgettable. I would even dare to say that this is the most iconic depiction of snow and coldness.
The third story, Hoichi the Earless, is the longest and most intriguing portion of the film. Essentially it is about a blind monk who is cheated by the spirits of the dead. The story takes its precious time to build up tension until it explodes into all directions in the end - before all of it is brought together in the end in an awesome way. This story is something that will never leave your mind at peace.
The final story, In a Cup of Tea, is the most mysterious and surprising segment. I won't go into too much detail because it is something you need to see yourself. The ending is even more ambiguos than the rest of the film put together. It is something you will not see coming, but it is the only logical way to end a film like this. All I can say is that it includes a story about a bodyguard who is haunted by a ghost.
The film's form is consistently brilliant and varies a bit in each story. The use of sound and music is crucial in each one: while the first one is most notable and obvious achievement in sound, the entire film is controlled by sound. The film was completely shot on interior sets and you won't even realise that until you read about it somewhere. All of the sets were hand painted and some of them are really expressionistic and atmospheric. The cinematography is beautiful as well - there is never a moment when Kobayashi's flawless camerawork fails. For example, his use of Dutch angles is perfected here.
Masaki Kobayashi's Kwaidan is a stunning cinematic achievement. I can not recall a film that would have such a brilliant combination of creative sets, stunning cinematography and innovative use of sound. The stories might be a bit simple, but they hold great wisdom that should not be forgotten.
