Masumura’s portrayal of women has varied in credibility for me. While I am not confident enough to say this movie is completely devoid of misogyny, the story and Otsuya’s character are developed in such a way that does feel like our central female character has power and autonomy. Thinking about this as a 1966 movie, it feels like a precedent to other movies like Under the Blossoming Cherry Trees or even Audition.
The choice to begin the film with the tattooing and then include a brief flashback is an interesting way to build Otsuya’s character. It gives us a false impression of Otsuya’s powerlessness. While she lives in a world of male dominance, we learn that she begins as a powerful and dominant force of her own. Essentially in control of Shinsuke from the beginning, we see she calls the shots. Even early on we get a sense of her ability to manipulate when she feigns a suicide attempt and sinks her final claws into Shinsuke.
The whole world is full of deceit though. This is a pessimistic world where most characters are out for themselves. Even if you start out innocent, as Shinsuke seems to, you will surely fall prey to darkness or die. The male characters are all driven by greed or lust. The first person the lovers meet feigns a helping hand, but quickly reveals himself to be a villain seeking to sell Otsuya to a geisha house for a quick profit. When Otsuya finds herself sold, she is first victimized through the spider tattoo placed upon her. Masumura’s fascination with the flesh appears here, which he’d explore more gruesomely in Blind Beast.
The way the film explores the consequences of this tattoo are layered. I felt like the question was obvious: “Which came first, Otsuya or the tattoo?” Despite Otsuya’s more sinister slant which develops post-tattoo, she clearly had a developed sense of cunning from the beginning. The commentary, I think, comes into play when we see just how far Otsuya is pushed thanks to the evils of the men around her. The movie skillfully makes us root for Otsuya. Some other Japanese female-killer movies I’ve seen have a more direct implication that the woman is evil. However, I often found Otsuya’s behaviour justified. The ambiguity favours her relative morality in this world.
I really liked the voyeuristic attribute of the tattoo artist. He almost inexplicably appears at the conclusion of every conflict Otsuya is involved in. His observance gives him an almost omnipresent feeling akin to a perverted god who sees his own work realized in a more horrific literal way than he could have ever imagined. It makes the resolution of the movie feel appropriate and poetic.
The cinematography of the movie is awesome. Many set pieces effectively place us in this world. An early scene on a snowy bridge feels like a play. A foggy forest creates a haunting atmosphere. A dark and rainy trail amplifies the desperation of Shinsuke as he takes his first life. The movie has great momentum as it ties Shinsuke to Otsuya, and Otsuya to those around her. The ending is tragic poetry, both horrific and beautiful.
Masumura’s portrayal of women has varied in credibility for me. While I am not confident enough to say this movie is completely devoid of misogyny, the story and Otsuya’s character are developed in such a way that does feel like our central female character has power and autonomy. Thinking about this as a 1966 movie, it feels like a precedent to other movies like Under the Blossoming Cherry Trees or even Audition.
The choice to begin the film with the tattooing and then include a brief flashback is an interesting way to build Otsuya’s character. It gives us a false impression of Otsuya’s powerlessness. While she lives in a world of male dominance, we learn that she begins as a powerful and dominant force of her own. Essentially in control of Shinsuke from the beginning, we see she calls the shots. Even early on we get a sense of her ability to manipulate when she feigns a suicide attempt and sinks her final claws into Shinsuke.
The whole world is full of deceit though. This is a pessimistic world where most characters are out for themselves. Even if you start out innocent, as Shinsuke seems to, you will surely fall prey to darkness or die. The male characters are all driven by greed or lust. The first person the lovers meet feigns a helping hand, but quickly reveals himself to be a villain seeking to sell Otsuya to a geisha house for a quick profit. When Otsuya finds herself sold, she is first victimized through the spider tattoo placed upon her. Masumura’s fascination with the flesh appears here, which he’d explore more gruesomely in Blind Beast.
The way the film explores the consequences of this tattoo are layered. I felt like the question was obvious: “Which came first, Otsuya or the tattoo?” Despite Otsuya’s more sinister slant which develops post-tattoo, she clearly had a developed sense of cunning from the beginning. The commentary, I think, comes into play when we see just how far Otsuya is pushed thanks to the evils of the men around her. The movie skillfully makes us root for Otsuya. Some other Japanese female-killer movies I’ve seen have a more direct implication that the woman is evil. However, I often found Otsuya’s behaviour justified. The ambiguity favours her relative morality in this world.
I really liked the voyeuristic attribute of the tattoo artist. He almost inexplicably appears at the conclusion of every conflict Otsuya is involved in. His observance gives him an almost omnipresent feeling akin to a perverted god who sees his own work realized in a more horrific literal way than he could have ever imagined. It makes the resolution of the movie feel appropriate and poetic.
The cinematography of the movie is awesome. Many set pieces effectively place us in this world. An early scene on a snowy bridge feels like a play. A foggy forest creates a haunting atmosphere. A dark and rainy trail amplifies the desperation of Shinsuke as he takes his first life. The movie has great momentum as it ties Shinsuke to Otsuya, and Otsuya to those around her. The ending is tragic poetry, both horrific and beautiful.
