Tonight I watched another film from director Kenji Mizoguchi, "A Story From Chikamatsu" (1954), recently released on Criterion and discovered in a library database search. You will recall that I had completed an eight film mini-retrospective on Mizoguchi around mid-December or so. At the time, those eight films were all that were available to me (four from the Libe and four that I bought), so it was a bonus to all of a sudden find "Chikamatsu". It turned out to be another Mizoguchi Masterpiece.
In 17th Century feudal Japan, Mohei is a skilled printer of scrolls and calendars, working as a top assistant to the wealthy owner of the print shop, who is known as the Grand Master. This man's name is Ishun, and he also owns a great deal of land and has influence in his prefecture. Ishun is a blowhard and a hypocrite, however, because although he has a beautiful and faithful wife (thirty years his junior), he is shown sneaking into a servant girl's bedroom at night to request her attentions. He promises to buy the girl a house, but she begs him to leave her alone. Thinking of a quick excuse not to comply with the Master's wishes, she tells him that she is planning to marry Mohei, his star employee. Though he doesn't really believe her, he backs off for the time being.
Meanwhile, Osan - the Grand Master's wife - has approached the decent and honorable Mohei for a loan. Though she is married to a very rich man, she cannot ask him for money because he won't give her any. He is solicitous to her and treats her as an equal when company is present, but really he considers her his property, as she was "given" to him in an arranged marriage.
This is Mizoguchi Territory, an examination and exposure of the terrible misogyny that was part of the foundation of patriarchal Japanese culture for hundreds of years.
Osan, the wife, has come to Mohei, her husband's assistant, because her brother needs money to pay a business debt. Without immediate payment, he will go to jail and the family shop, owned by their mother, will be closed down. As mentioned above, Osan cannot go to Ishun, her wealthy husband, for the money, because he has no care for her family. He has given them funds in the past, to be sure, but he is like Scrooge in that every cent given and every cent loaned is written down and accounted for. He is a usurer who extorts his debtors for payment.
Mohei, though, is a kind soul who is sympathetic to Osan's plight. He addresses her with respect, as "Madame", and promises to deliver the loan the next day. The only problem is that he doesn't have the money. So he forges a note, based on a false payment slip, in order to embezzle the funds from the cashbox for the loan to Madame.
But then a co-worker sees him, and Mohei is busted. All his years of good apprenticeship now count for nothing, because he has met in secret with the owner's wife. Never mind that he only meant to help her out of a financial jam, and that the loan would've amounted to peanuts - he, and Ishun's wife, are now accused of adultery.
We have seen earlier in the film a lurid procession in the town's streets of other adulterers who have been caught and are now being paraded on their way to being crucified.
Yes indeed, this is Mizoguchi saying that Japan, in the 17th century, used crucifixion as the means to deal with adulterers, who were seen as a scourge who caused trouble not only for their families, but for the surrounding community, because of the shame that was brought.
But there was no shame, nor crucifixion, for powerful men such as the print shop owner Ishun, who is shown openly propositioning young women in the streets.
The plot, as described here, may seem very convoluted, but onscreen it flows. The plans of Ishun to prosecute his wife must be tempered by a desire to protect his business and his position. After all, adultery affects the entire community; if a wife is caught, her husband's shop or factory must be closed as well. Shame is the major factor, and we in the modern world are aware of the concept of "saving face".
What Kenji Mizoguchi shows us is the overwhelming hypocrisy at work, how many of the men at the top were phonies (hey, nothing is new!), and how many other men in the upper regions of the labor force would plot against their corrupt bosses in order to take their place.
Love is the main theme here, however, because as Mohei and Madame escape through the mountains from the Shogun police investigators, he confesses to her that he has always been in love with her.
But in Mizoguchi's ancient Japan (and almost up to the early 20th century), the concept of "love" was given a far backseat to "arranged tradition". If you were a woman, or even a decent man, nobody in power gave a damn about who you loved. They arranged things so that you married who you were told to marry.
And so real love affairs were carried out in secret, against the threat of crucifixion.
Love is only played out in the context of tragedy because it gets in the way of making money, and women, if they do not acquiesce to men, are made to pay the price, as are any good men who come to their rescue. ////
There is quite a bit of plot beyond what I have described, as Mohei and Madame try to escape their persecutors, and as Ishun the Grand Master attempts to hide his wife's involvement so as not to have his printing business shut down.
The black and white photography is magnificent, and as a final thought I will again say that Mizoguchi must be considered among the top directors of all time, and I mean at the very top.
He goes to the heart of the matter of life, and I urge you to watch his movies for yourself, and see.
That's all for tonight. Much love until the morning, then more all day tomorrow.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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