ATG cinema at its most dangerous and most sincere turning taboo into transcendence.

ATG cinema at its most dangerous and most sincere turning taboo into transcendence.

Director: Jissoji Akio.This is the third film I have seen of his.I watched this accidentally, as on YouTube, this film is labelled as Mandala 1971. It was a fortuitous mistake, though, as this film is a certified banger and coincidentally, the first of his Buddhist film trilogy alongside his debut Feature Film.Jissoji's shot choices are fantastic, as this film is incredibly well shot and distinct due to its experimental visuals. The primary theme of the film is intent, how it shapes the products and does it even matter in the end?The film is oddly a great follow-up to All About Lily Chou Chou, as it tackles similar themes in a much different way. Both films feature products that are assigned meaning by others and have little to do with the intent with which they were made.The film features a deplorable, deceitful and downright weird protagonist who is shown to be a destructive force, leaving only depravity in his path. He is shown to partake in Buddhist teachings and creating Kannon sculptures, but at the same time be driven by hedonism, giving this film a vibe of Ozu through Suzuki. This whole film thus acts as a confrontation with traditions and culture, showing how they tie one down.The protagonist is shown to be driven by his desires and thus partakes in an incestuous relationship with his sister. He is, in a way, going against his family and getting more control in his life through it. He drove his sister to the hedonistic path, showing us how he is altering the people he is surrounded by for the worse as well.The protagonist joined the monastery as a means to curb his hedonistic desires. Thus, he is using the way of religion as a means to improve. He was unable to escape them due to Buddhism not having the answers to his questions.He questioned his master, Mori, about whether one can make sculptures without faith. This is a simple question, but to one who has spent their whole life believing one thing to be the sole truth, this crumbles their beliefs, as what if it doesn't?As the film goes on, we find out that his master looks at his and his sister's deeds in hiding, and it gives him the strength to carry on with the sculpting. The Kannon statue is thus made with impure thoughts and hands, but it still got established inside the monastery and is used for praying. Thus, Jissoji is telling us that intent doesn't matter, and the product will continue to serve its intended purpose.Later on, the sister's husband finds out about their affair, causing him to commit suicide after being grief-stricken. The protagonist later on convinces his master to join them in their deed, doing so in the monastery, thereby defiling it.The master's son and his apprentice monk, Ogino, are against the decadence that the protagonist wrought within the heart of the master and thus intend to drive him out, but are unable to due to having nothing tangible against him.When Ogino confronts him, the protagonist starts to question his teachings and preaches that heaven doesn't exist in Buddhism and that only hell does. Heaven and Nirvana are beyond the state of concepts. Happiness is a concept, and thus it won't exist there. He argues that while hell, its sub-hells and the punishment people are subjected to are explained vividly, heaven has no appeal. While hell is painted repeatedly, heaven is not. The protagonist says that he gets happiness from participating in depravity and that he would rather do so on earth participating in depravity than yearn for heaven in the afterlife.One can see that the concept of finding pleasure through pain is an integral part of his psyche from this conversation. He is not refuted by Osugi, and thus, he carries on with his lifestyle while Osugi can only cower and run away.In the ending scenes, we can see that a carp has washed ashore with many stones in its belly. Each stone has a name, with us recognising several to be of the people we see the protagonist corrupt in the film. Thus, we can see that he has done this to many more than we realised while watching the film.We also see that the idol is being used for praying by monks, further establishing that intent indeed doesn't matter. Jissoji also adds the theme of ignirance is bliss, as the product may not be pure and indeed does carry the intent of its creator, but till we don't know, it has no effect on how we view it.Overall, this is an excellent film and makes me want to watch the other two as soon as possible.

Director: Jissoji Akio.This is the third film I have seen of his.I watched this accidentally, as on YouTube, this film is labelled as Mandala 1971. It was a fortuitous mistake, though, as this film is a certified banger and coincidentally, the first of his Buddhist film trilogy alongside his debut Feature Film.Jissoji's shot choices are fantastic, as this film is incredibly well shot and distinct due to its experimental visuals. The primary theme of the film is intent, how it shapes the products and does it even matter in the end?The film is oddly a great follow-up to All About Lily Chou Chou, as it tackles similar themes in a much different way. Both films feature products that are assigned meaning by others and have little to do with the intent with which they were made.The film features a deplorable, deceitful and downright weird protagonist who is shown to be a destructive force, leaving only depravity in his path. He is shown to partake in Buddhist teachings and creating Kannon sculptures, but at the same time be driven by hedonism, giving this film a vibe of Ozu through Suzuki. This whole film thus acts as a confrontation with traditions and culture, showing how they tie one down.The protagonist is shown to be driven by his desires and thus partakes in an incestuous relationship with his sister. He is, in a way, going against his family and getting more control in his life through it. He drove his sister to the hedonistic path, showing us how he is altering the people he is surrounded by for the worse as well.The protagonist joined the monastery as a means to curb his hedonistic desires. Thus, he is using the way of religion as a means to improve. He was unable to escape them due to Buddhism not having the answers to his questions.He questioned his master, Mori, about whether one can make sculptures without faith. This is a simple question, but to one who has spent their whole life believing one thing to be the sole truth, this crumbles their beliefs, as what if it doesn't?As the film goes on, we find out that his master looks at his and his sister's deeds in hiding, and it gives him the strength to carry on with the sculpting. The Kannon statue is thus made with impure thoughts and hands, but it still got established inside the monastery and is used for praying. Thus, Jissoji is telling us that intent doesn't matter, and the product will continue to serve its intended purpose.Later on, the sister's husband finds out about their affair, causing him to commit suicide after being grief-stricken. The protagonist later on convinces his master to join them in their deed, doing so in the monastery, thereby defiling it.The master's son and his apprentice monk, Ogino, are against the decadence that the protagonist wrought within the heart of the master and thus intend to drive him out, but are unable to due to having nothing tangible against him.When Ogino confronts him, the protagonist starts to question his teachings and preaches that heaven doesn't exist in Buddhism and that only hell does. Heaven and Nirvana are beyond the state of concepts. Happiness is a concept, and thus it won't exist there. He argues that while hell, its sub-hells and the punishment people are subjected to are explained vividly, heaven has no appeal. While hell is painted repeatedly, heaven is not. The protagonist says that he gets happiness from participating in depravity and that he would rather do so on earth participating in depravity than yearn for heaven in the afterlife.One can see that the concept of finding pleasure through pain is an integral part of his psyche from this conversation. He is not refuted by Osugi, and thus, he carries on with his lifestyle while Osugi can only cower and run away.In the ending scenes, we can see that a carp has washed ashore with many stones in its belly. Each stone has a name, with us recognising several to be of the people we see the protagonist corrupt in the film. Thus, we can see that he has done this to many more than we realised while watching the film.We also see that the idol is being used for praying by monks, further establishing that intent indeed doesn't matter. Jissoji also adds the theme of ignirance is bliss, as the product may not be pure and indeed does carry the intent of its creator, but till we don't know, it has no effect on how we view it.Overall, this is an excellent film and makes me want to watch the other two as soon as possible.

Day 48 movie 49/100 from the summer film challenge

I originally intended to watch Mandala, a film from the same director. Fortunately for me, the film was entirely on YouTube (atleast that’s what I thought). Eventough the title and release date suggested I was watching mandala, the story didn’t seem to match the plot of the film. And when the protagonist started cracking his sister after after 40 minutes I knew for sure something was off. So I checked the comments and it indeed turned out to be a different film, this one. But since it was the same director, and the actual movie I was looking for seemed to be lost media I decided to watch this instead, since I was quite invested in the story. 

And to be fair I don’t know why I was, it just gave me a terrifying feeling I had when first watching Oldboy, a feeling I had completely forgotten about but this film brought it back. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, perhaps it was something else these films had In common… However I wasn’t invested for long as this film lost my interest in the second act when it became rather confusing. And now, writing this review a few days later I’ve almost entirely forgot the whole film, so that says enough already. 

62/100

Day 48 movie 49/100 from the summer film challenge

I originally intended to watch Mandala, a film from the same director. Fortunately for me, the film was entirely on YouTube (atleast that’s what I thought). Eventough the title and release date suggested I was watching mandala, the story didn’t seem to match the plot of the film. And when the protagonist started cracking his sister after after 40 minutes I knew for sure something was off. So I checked the comments and it indeed turned out to be a different film, this one. But since it was the same director, and the actual movie I was looking for seemed to be lost media I decided to watch this instead, since I was quite invested in the story. 

And to be fair I don’t know why I was, it just gave me a terrifying feeling I had when first watching Oldboy, a feeling I had completely forgotten about but this film brought it back. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, perhaps it was something else these films had In common… However I wasn’t invested for long as this film lost my interest in the second act when it became rather confusing. And now, writing this review a few days later I’ve almost entirely forgot the whole film, so that says enough already. 

62/100

As much as it feels morally wrong to like this, Mujô is so utterly complex and isn’t what’s projected on surface. It opposes voyeurism, and manages to cause fascination within fanatical seeking of transcendence, beauty, truth - through disintegration and taboo. 

[ 92 ]

It was another day of doomscrolling on Letterboxd (if you’re unsure how that’s even possible, don’t question it) . . . . . 

. . . . . . I stumbled onto This Transient Life the way I wish more films came to me — quietly, without hype, just sitting there in some corner of the internet with a 4.1 rating and a cryptic still image. I was looking for something that genuinely wrestled with religion, not just thematically, but with its bones — something that questioned rather than sermonised. This 1970 outlier from the tail end of Japan’s cinematic golden age stood out. I’ve always had a soft spot for older Japanese films — the elegant ache of Mizoguchi, the stillness of Ozu — and while this came a decade or two later, it somehow felt older, stranger, deeper. Not in formality, but in spirit. 

I expected an encounter with faith. What I got was something closer to a silent confrontation — a film that presses up against belief, but never declares its stance. This Transient Life is haunting and erotic, serene yet unsettling. Its bold incestuous plot doesn’t seem designed to shock, but to unravel the thin line between sacred and profane. There’s no moral outrage here, only naked vulnerability — emotional, spiritual, and literal. The film feels like Mizoguchi matured into something rawer; like Ozu’s rooms got restless and the camera decided to wander. The cinematography breathes: handheld pans, wide lenses, close-ups that don’t flatter. At times it feels almost improvised, yet every moment lands with intention. The performances, too, are exquisite — not “performed,” but lived, exposing every character as a soul in flux. This isn’t a film about sin or salvation. It’s about what happens when you stop looking for either.

However so, an obsession isn’t established in abstract form. Masao - the lead focal point, A.K.A protagonist/antagonist combo, is lost beyond a spiritual fantasy. He expresses his search of enlightenment through physical desire and unconventional ways, thus rejecting temple life (essentially role of a Monk), yet remaining attracted to sculptures and impermanence, which echoes Buddhist contradictions. His rupture of accepted norms can be inflicted by his disillusionment with religion: he is surrounded by Buddhism but never confronted by it. We view religion as inert and idle, unable to answer his inner chaos. The freedom in his palms grant him escape from societal responsibilities, yet it engineers a prison that cages him in from his goals.

This Transient Life - is it really? The film fiddles with too many hidden implications, sometimes it’s exhausting to unwrap everything underneath. But the common sighting is the destruction done by Masao, as if he is put to endless torment. This suffering can be a Buddhist embodiment whereby concluding he is trapped in samsara = the cycle of torture. A rebirth only numbs the pain, or induces more pain actually. The final stair climb - that could be his attempt to breach the cycle, either heading to Paradiso or Inferno (Dante reference). Perhaps he realises the cycle is infinite and there’s no way to break free without renunciation. So he tackles a flight of stairs. And he climbs. After more stairs were even more stairs. He conquers more stairs. Then the film ends . . . . . . . as ambiguous as it can be.

As much as it feels morally wrong to like this, Mujô is so utterly complex and isn’t what’s projected on surface. It opposes voyeurism, and manages to cause fascination within fanatical seeking of transcendence, beauty, truth - through disintegration and taboo. 

[ 92 ]

It was another day of doomscrolling on Letterboxd (if you’re unsure how that’s even possible, don’t question it) . . . . . 

. . . . . . I stumbled onto This Transient Life the way I wish more films came to me — quietly, without hype, just sitting there in some corner of the internet with a 4.1 rating and a cryptic still image. I was looking for something that genuinely wrestled with religion, not just thematically, but with its bones — something that questioned rather than sermonised. This 1970 outlier from the tail end of Japan’s cinematic golden age stood out. I’ve always had a soft spot for older Japanese films — the elegant ache of Mizoguchi, the stillness of Ozu — and while this came a decade or two later, it somehow felt older, stranger, deeper. Not in formality, but in spirit. 

I expected an encounter with faith. What I got was something closer to a silent confrontation — a film that presses up against belief, but never declares its stance. This Transient Life is haunting and erotic, serene yet unsettling. Its bold incestuous plot doesn’t seem designed to shock, but to unravel the thin line between sacred and profane. There’s no moral outrage here, only naked vulnerability — emotional, spiritual, and literal. The film feels like Mizoguchi matured into something rawer; like Ozu’s rooms got restless and the camera decided to wander. The cinematography breathes: handheld pans, wide lenses, close-ups that don’t flatter. At times it feels almost improvised, yet every moment lands with intention. The performances, too, are exquisite — not “performed,” but lived, exposing every character as a soul in flux. This isn’t a film about sin or salvation. It’s about what happens when you stop looking for either.

However so, an obsession isn’t established in abstract form. Masao - the lead focal point, A.K.A protagonist/antagonist combo, is lost beyond a spiritual fantasy. He expresses his search of enlightenment through physical desire and unconventional ways, thus rejecting temple life (essentially role of a Monk), yet remaining attracted to sculptures and impermanence, which echoes Buddhist contradictions. His rupture of accepted norms can be inflicted by his disillusionment with religion: he is surrounded by Buddhism but never confronted by it. We view religion as inert and idle, unable to answer his inner chaos. The freedom in his palms grant him escape from societal responsibilities, yet it engineers a prison that cages him in from his goals.

This Transient Life - is it really? The film fiddles with too many hidden implications, sometimes it’s exhausting to unwrap everything underneath. But the common sighting is the destruction done by Masao, as if he is put to endless torment. This suffering can be a Buddhist embodiment whereby concluding he is trapped in samsara = the cycle of torture. A rebirth only numbs the pain, or induces more pain actually. The final stair climb - that could be his attempt to breach the cycle, either heading to Paradiso or Inferno (Dante reference). Perhaps he realises the cycle is infinite and there’s no way to break free without renunciation. So he tackles a flight of stairs. And he climbs. After more stairs were even more stairs. He conquers more stairs. Then the film ends . . . . . . . as ambiguous as it can be.

stillness. violence. symmetry. beautiful score, one of my favourites (up there with rashomon and death in venice).

stunning. just absolutely beautiful. hits a lot of the the spots i usually like in a film (depravity, moral ambiguity, the question of god and religion) but still i found it somewhat lacking – particularly the second half.

actually ☝🏻🤓 the more i sit with this, the more i adore it

stillness. violence. symmetry. beautiful score, one of my favourites (up there with rashomon and death in venice).

stunning. just absolutely beautiful. hits a lot of the the spots i usually like in a film (depravity, moral ambiguity, the question of god and religion) but still i found it somewhat lacking – particularly the second half.

actually ☝🏻🤓 the more i sit with this, the more i adore it