• いのちぼうにふろう (Inn of Evil)

9/25/22 (Sun)

Kobayashi Masaki’s 1971 black-and-white film about smugglers on an island just off Edo who decide for once in their lives to do a good deed. I wanted to see it ahead of next week’s stage version featuring the film’s star Nakadai Tatsuya, who at 89 is still very much active with his Mumeijuku theater group and celebrating his 70th anniversary as an actor.

The official English title, Inn of Evil, is rather odd. For one thing, the facility referred to is neither an inn nor evil. The frequenters are basically just random misfits rejected by society; it is the police who prove evil, such as spontaneously killing a random man for being too talkative. Also, the “inn”, Anrakutei (安楽亭), is in fact a tavern, translated in some essays as Easy Tavern but more like Tavern of Comfort. The Japanese title Inochi Bo ni Furo, literally “let’s give up our lives”, better sums up what’s at stake and appears in the dialogue (twice). The phrase usually refers to wasting one’s life or giving up one’s chances in life, but the active tense here suggests a suicidal act, presumably for a higher cause, a well-worn theme in Japan.

The island is so tiny that the tavern is the only building, but its location at the entry to Edo makes it an ideal spot for smugglers to offload incoming Dutch cargo, which they then distribute to wealthy patrons. The head of the tavern has bribed the local police and apparently has powerful backing, as evident from boxes in his storage with the shogun’s crest. The ruffians who gather there have formed a family of sorts. Nakadai plays a heartless brute who may or may not have killed his own mother when he discovered her working as a prostitute (the story changes depending on his level of drink). There is also a former priest who was kicked out of his temple for lascivious actions with whatever sex was at hand, a stutterer, and a guy prone to fey mannerisms (though I doubt he’s actually supposed to be gay), while others have their own stories. Their livelihoods are basically dependent on the next shipment.

They have previously enjoyed the protection of the police in exchange for a cut of the action, but a new police force has taken over and has them in its sights. The chief immediately becomes suspicious when he notices a clock at the tavern, a European contraption to which a small pub in this location wouldn’t normally have access. The police presence significantly raises the risk for the smugglers. Nakadai flatly refuses one suspiciously lucrative job, having been betrayed the last time when two of his men died. The men are constantly on watch for spies, and are none too pleased when an anonymous and aloof drunk (Katsu Shintaro, tremendous) stumbles in. They tell him first-timers are not welcome and throw him out, but he immediately returns, arguing that they should know him since this is now his second visit. Impressed by his brazenness, the owner allows the man to stay, one more oddball to add to the crowd.

A turning point comes when they are visited by a young fugitive on the run for having stolen money. It turns out that he sought the funds to rescue his lover after she was sold by her family into prostitution. His selflessness and willingness to risk everything for love gives purpose to the lost men at the pub. They accept the job that Nakadai previously rejected despite their continued wariness in order to help get the money for the guy, sticking their necks out for a fellow human being for the first time. Their self-sacrifice in pursuit of justice has a Chushingura-like feel, but the vivid characterizations give it a modern touch. The ensuing nighttime encounter with the police, visible only via the scores of lanterns that close relentlessly in on the men like a noose, is an awesome sight.

The film has strong narrative drive and a compelling theme, marred only by the over-use of flashbacks. The script, adapted by Nakadai’s wife from a well-known novel, is highly literate, and the acting is superb all around. Katsu is particularly memorable as the unnamed wanderer; his impassioned telling of how he lost his family is the movie’s highlight. Nakadai is terrific as usual, and Nakamura Kanemon is a standout as the tavern keeper. I presume that Nakadai will take the latter role in the stage version. I’m eager to see what they’ve done with it.

This film tends to get in the shuffle among Kobayashi’s numerous masterworks, perhaps because it is less political in tone. But it ranks right up there with his best. An impressive film.