• 妖刀物語：花の吉原百人斬り (Hero of the Red Light District)

12/6/24 (Fri)

Uchida Tomu’s 1960 film draws liberally from the much-revived Meiji-era Kabuki classic Kagotsurube (1888), the story of a lonely pockmarked man whose desperation to be loved makes him an easy mark for unscrupulous people, leading ultimately to tragedy. (The Kabuki was itself based on a real-life incident.) Uchida veers from the popular tale in significant ways that make for an interesting study. A more literal translation of the Japanese title would be something like, “The Story of the Haunted Sword: Glittering Yoshiwara and the Mass Slaying”. (Hyakunin-giri or “mass slaying” literally means slashing 100 persons but is simply meant to indicate a large number of people. The phrase is known for its unfortunate use as a killing contest during Japan’s invasion of China, about which the less said the better. More happily, it can also be a sexual term meaning to bed dozens of people.) The English title is lame: the guy is no hero, and the story involves a street prostitute thrown into the world of courtesans, not quite a red light district.

A poor couple find an abandoned child with sword and papers indicating that he is of samurai stock. As this is the anniversary of their own child’s death, they decide to raise him (hence the name Jiro or “second son”). They are shocked to discover, however, that the child has an unsightly birthmark covering nearly half his face.

We flash forward many years later when Jiro is now a successful textile merchant, beloved by his employees and acquaintances for his modesty and kindness. He longs for a wife, but all prospects are repelled by his disfigurement. When his client takes him to the Yoshiwara pleasure district, even the courtesans refuse to deal with him.

Salvation comes with Tsuru, a former street prostitute that the pleasure house was forced by the courts to take on. With none of the cultural training of the courtesans, she is usually hidden away from clients, but her willingness to deal with Jiro spurs them to give her a try. The lonely Jiro is immediately smitten, especially when she kisses the birthmark that has been his shame his entire life. What he doesn’t realize is that Tsuru, herself a reject from society, is determined to become a tayu or head courtesan in revenge for the disdain shown by the others, and sees in Jiro’s desperation for love a way to achieve that. The pleasure house quickly realizes that Jiro’s innocence opens an opportunity for easy money. Tsuru tells him that she will marry him once she becomes a tayu, and they convince him to invest in her training, an expense that they would normally be expected to bear themselves.

Jiro becomes increasingly careless with his money in his desire to please Tsuru. When a hailstorm destroys the farms from which he procures silk, he is forced to go into debt. His clients agree to lend him the money on condition that he stay away from Yoshiwara. He fully intends to live up to the promise, but is dragged into Tsuru’s final test session when he happens to pass near the area. The jury turns her down, but the judge, bribed by the house, overrules them and declares that she is ready to become a tayu. Jiro is then pressed for more money. Unable to afford the expense, he asks them to postpone the ceremony, but they refuse and put immense pressure on him either to comply or risk losing everything he’s invested. He turns for support to Tsuru, but she refuses to stand behind him. She says she doesn’t care who she marries as long as she becomes tayu. If he can’t help with that, she tells him, she has no interest in him. Jiro is devastated.

When Jiro’s clients discover that he has been to Yoshiwara, they demand their money back and cut off all relations. He also learns that the sword, the heirloom that he had hoped to sell for a large sum, was worth nothing due to its ill-starred Kagotsurube provenance. (In real life, swords forged by this maker were considered inauspicious in connection with their use against the ruling Tokugawas.) He returns to a near empty workplace, provides the nuptial wedding cup to his two loyal workers, and says he is passing the house to them. He then slips alone into his room with the sword, suggesting that he is contemplating suicide.

He emerges, however, to watch Tsuru’s stately city-wide procession upon her accession to tayu. He observes in disguise as she walks elegantly through the streets with a self-satisfied look at having achieved her revenge. He then overhears a conversation revealing that the pleasure house managers took malicious advantage of his ignorance and that Tsuru considered him a monster. This releases the rage that had been so long repressed. He bursts into the streets, removes the sedge hat that had hidden his face, and reveals himself to the stunned crowd. This leads to an incredible fight scene in which he slashes dozens of people in his blind fury. Tsuru crawls toward the city gates, looking like a worm slithering through the dirt, but finds that the gates have been closed for security. Jiro catches her and slashes her to death. Under a shower of cherry blossoms, he screams at everyone to leave him and his “wife” alone as the scene abruptly cuts off.

Uchida offers a relentlessly cruel portrait of innocence betrayed. In the Kabuki original, the woman is shown to have some sympathy for Jiro but has obligations to others that are difficult to dissolve. Jiro’s madness in that case stems partly from his misunderstanding of her intentions. Uchida has created a more compelling character who, like Jiro, has been cast aside by society, but responds by a burning resolve to avenge her fate rather than his modest desire for a normal relationship. The director has also given us two inspired creations in the greedy couple running the pleasure house, who could be Kabuki characters on their own. While I would have preferred a clearer resolution to the final battle, Uchida’s film is a model case in adapting Kabuki to another medium. He has a keen eye for detail, such as Tsuru’s handprint on the gate after she is cut down, and handles the big set pieces in particular with great skill. He spared no expense on the elaborate sets and colorful costumes, though I wondered at times if black-and-white might not have been more effective. In any event, he has created characters we really care about in a compelling storyline.

Kataoka Chiezo, a jidaigeki star who was nearing 60 at this point, offered a brilliant portrayal of a man held down by his own lack of self worth. His self-effacement and clear craving for someone to love were heartbreaking, and his march to tragedy was as hard to watch as it was inevitable. He had Kabuki training and must have been familiar with this piece, but gives a much deeper interpretation here. His performance was the centerpiece of the film. Among an overall strong cast, Mizutani Yoshie (later Yaeko) was fine as the prostitute and ex-convict whose drive for vengeance leads to her destruction, while Mishima Masao and Sawamura Sadako were pitch-perfect as the pleasure house operators. Kataoka Eijiro (no relation to Chiezo) also deserves a mention as Jiro’s faithful servant.

A very fine film in every way. Surprisingly it does not appear to have been particularly highly regarded in its day, failing to make any Top Ten lists for the year. But history has been kinder to it. I think this would be a great candidate for re-adaptation into Kabuki.