When a Woman Ascends the Stairs

Even though I'm a big fan of Japanese cinema I hadn't seen a film by Mikio Naruse before I watched When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (1960). His name is often mentioned alongside the Big Three (Kurosawa, Mizoguchi & Ozu) and the Japanese New Wave directors (Oshima, Imamura etc) as the most important (and best) Japanese directors of all time. At least judging by this film I wholeheartedly agree.

Essentially When a Woman Ascends the Stairs is about a Japanese bar hostess (set in post-WW2 Japan) at a significant point in her life: because she's already 30, she has to either open her own bar or get married. The screenplay offers a thorough depiction of the age, a stunning character study AND in a subtle way it also explores the weak position of women in the Japanese society. Naruse doesn't point fingers as obviously as Mizoguchi - and even manages to find some delight for the main character within her restricted choices. Even though the main character is fascinating and complex enough on her own the huge cast of side characters is also given a lot of attention - and they are not disappointing characters either. The screenplay's epic scope leaves me rather speechless.

The form is not subtle in the minimalistic Ozu way. Instead Naruse employs effective yet nearly unnoticable editing patterns that keep the focus on the essential. Mostly medium distance shots are used to keep a pleasant sense of intimacy, but when an "empty" (= a lot of empty space in the shot) long distance shot is used, it is used to great effect that is almost cathartic. The compositions are also rather interesting. When a Woman Ascends the Stairs is certainly a film I'd like to study closer at some point - even if only for its visual aspects. The restrained jazz music of the soundtrack is also used in an excellent way.

Japanese cinema delivers yet another big surprise for me. Even though I was aware of Naruse's reputation among film buffs I didn't realize I would experience something as vivid as this film. It has certainly found a place among my favorite films of all time.

Score: 10 out of 10

Mouchette

Robert Bresson's Mouchette (1967) is a heartbreaking story of a teenaged girl named Mouchette. Her mother is dying, her father does not care about her, she has no friends at school and she ends up being mentally and physically abused by others. Bresson somehow manages to find beauty in this tragic story - and creates one of the most subtly poignant films to date.

Bresson's form in Mouchette is similar to Balthazar. There is simply nothing to add to what I said about it in the earlier review. The minimalism works SO well.

Rewatching Mouchette and Balthazar made me sure of one thing: I need to see more of Bresson's films because he might be on his way to become one of my favorite film makers of all time. His minimalism is so refined in these two films that I'm left quite speechless.

Score: 10 out of 10

Lady Oyu

While Lady Oyu (1951) wasn't a personal project for the director Kenji Mizoguchi, he certainly makes it seem like one. His striking cinematography can be noticed in almost every scene. The intensity of the movement and the compositions is gripping.

The screenplay - which is based on a famous novel by Junichiro Tanizaki - focuses on the fascinating dynamics of the relationships between two sisters and a man looking for a wife. Yet again, Mizoguchi observes the position of women in a refreshing way. I won't go into too much detail because it would spoil the fun of watching the story unfold.

It is often said that Kinuyo Tanaka was miscast as the title character and I can see why someone would say so. Especially the ones who have read the book think so, but for me her strong performance brought an entire new layer to the content. Even though her performance is extremely captivating the other actors manage to keep up with her.

Lady Oyu might not be one of the best Mizoguchi films, but it is successful in its powerful drama.

Score: 9 out of 10

Gion Festival Music

Kenji Mizoguchi's Gion bayashi (1953) - often translated as either Gion Festival Music or A Geisha - is the story of two geishas, a newcomer and an experienced one, struggling to survive when the geisha tradition begins to change after the World War II. In comparison to Sansho the Bailiff and Ugetsu, Mizoguchi's so-called feminism is most obvious in Gion Festival Music. The women are powerless against men and thus they are exploited - although Mizoguchi approaches the story in a refreshingly subtle way. But most of all, the film is about the relationship between the two geishas and how it evolves.

Mizoguchi's camerawork is similar to his other movies: (relatively) long takes, constantly moving and always very poignant. Even though the studio pressured him not to stick to his "one scene, one take" editing, there are a lot of takes that can be considered quite long. Even though his editing and cinematography are powerful, they are played down a little here for the sake of more subtlety - although the film can be considered more melodramatic than any of Yasujiro Ozu's films, for example.

Ultimately, Gion Festival Music is a good film which works well in general, but it is forgettable in the end.

Score: 8 out of 10