Arrow Video, a subsidiary of Arrow Films, humbly describe themselves as merely a “distributor of classic, world, cult and horror cinema on DVD & Blu-ray.” But we film geeks know them as the Britain-based bastion of the brutal and bizarre, boasting gorgeous Blu-ray releases with high quality artwork and packaging and bursting with extras (often their own productions). Their collector-friendly releases had traditionally not been available in the U.S, but now Arrow has come across the pond and this column is devoted to discussing their weird and wonderful output.
Seijun Suzuki’s long sought after “Taisho Trilogy” hits home video this week in a stunning limited edition 6 disc Blu-ray+DVD box set thanks to Arrow Academy. The trilogy, which takes its namesake from the period in which the films took place under Emperor Taisho (July 30th, 1912, to December 25th, 1926), was Seijun Suzuki’s return to feature length filmmaking 10 years after being forced out of the Japanese studio system. At the time Japanese theaters would usually screen films on double bills with Seijun tasked with directing a pulpy B picture for Nikkatsu. When the director started to gain in popularity thanks to his avant-garde touches on what would be standard potboiler Yakuza fare, he was promoted to the A feature where he continued to push the boundaries of conventional Japanese cinema.
Nikkatsu president Kyusaku Hori warned the director on several occasions that he had “gone too far.” Hori began slashing the budgets on his films, and when that didn’t work he blacklisted Suzuki after he turned in Branded to Kill, which is now regarded as a masterpiece. The films were independent productions, and thanks to the studio’s close relationship with theater chains, no cinema would screen them. Instead Zigeunerweisen and its follow up Kagero-za were released and screened in inflatable theaters perched atop of department stores in what was called “Cinema Placet.” This only added to the atmosphere of the surreal masterpieces that would re-launch the director’s career.
Zigeunerweisen, named for a recording of Pablo de Sarasate’s classic violin composition that plays a very McGuffin-like role in the film, was the first of the trilogy released in 1980. In case there was any doubt to what Seijun had in mind, the film also had the moniker “Volume 1” in the title. Loosely based on Hyakken Uchida’s novel Disk of Sarasate, the first film is the only of the three that has at its core has a more traditional narrative structure compared to later entries. The film focuses on two childhood friends, the nomadic wild man Nakasago (Yoshio Harada), who is facing an angry mob when we meet him after he reportedly killed a fisherman’s wife, and Aochi (Toshiya Fujita), the more straight-laced German professor.
After getting Nakasago off the hook for a murder he may or may not have committed, the two friends are entertained by a geisha (Naoko Otani) who is in mourning after the death of her brother. The beauty of the geisha and her grotesque tale of her brother’s suicide ignite a morose fascination in both men. The key here is that when her brother poisoned himself he refused to vomit any blood and it stained his bones, causing his cremated remains to be the pinkish color of cherry blossoms. Here we begin to see the dark themes that bind this series together emerge in this meeting as both men become fixated on the geisha and her tale of her brother’s bones.
The two men make a pact that whoever dies first will get the bones of the other, and we follow the men through years of infidelity as their fascination with death only grows.
The Taisho period, which was also when Seijun Suzuki was born, was known in Japanese culture for being the “Ero Guro Nansensu” period in art and literature. This expression uses the English words and means exactly what you’d expect — sex, death, and nonsense, which describes the style and themes at play in a Japan that was caught between tradition and modernization. Zigeunerweisen is an experience within itself and probably could best be compared to Lost Highway with its phantasmagorical narrative where you’re presented with these dream-like vignettes as the same actors switch between different roles. At its time the film was unlike anything that came before it, and it won Seijun Suzuki’s four Japanese Academy Awards.
Next up after the acclaim of Zigeunerweisen was its follow up Kagero-za, released in 1981, based on a story by Kyoka Izumi (1873–1939). Kagero-za or Heat Haze Theatre has the director going more into the direction of the surreal as he tackles the convoluted tale of Shunko Matsuzaki (Yusaku Matsuda), a playwright who is supported by a wealthy patron, Tamawaki (Katsuo Nakamura), and their bizarre relationship. The film begins with Shunko meeting a beautiful woman on her way to the hospital where her sick friend is dying. She pleads with Matsuzaki to go with her because she is scared of an old woman who is selling Bladder Cherries that are rumored to contain the souls of women.
He refuses but becomes obsessed with the woman, and this takes him on a mysterious journey to Kanazawa to meet her again. It’s on a train to his destination that he runs into Tamawaki, who tells him that he is also going to Kanazawa to witness two lovers commit suicide.
The film forgoes normal narrative structure almost completely as it twists and turns and folds in on itself with its story of love and betrayal. The film continues the themes of infidelity, obsession, and mortality from Zigeunerweisen as Shunko Matsuzaki journeys to discover the truth behind the strange woman. This uncovers a disturbing secret about his benefactor as the film delivers a mesmerizing final act that finally pulls all the threads together for the audience. Its here it becomes very apparent this is a director who was no longer constrained by the confines of the Japanese studio system and has give full reign to his imagination. The film’s more abstract and surreal approach only intensifies its story of this playwright who is trapped in his own story.
Finally we have Yumeji, which due to financial problems with the producer Genjiro Arato was delayed 10 years, hitting theaters in 1991. Unlike the two previous entries, which were influenced by authors from the Taisho period and their stories, Yumeji was inspired by visual artist Takehisa Yumeji, and the film is a somewhat fictionalized account of his life. The lecherous artist begins the film on his way to elope with his fiancée who has tuberculosis, but falls in love with another woman. We soon find out she is a widow still hoping to find her dead husband, who was murdered by a serial killer. We witness Takehisa fall victim to his desires and his obsession with the female form as the film’s lush visuals take us through yet another tale of one man’s lust and the consequences.
All three films are standalone stories with the common thread running through them being the themes of infidelity, obsession, and mortality, and also Yoshio Harada, who is the only actor to appear in all three films. Each film comes with an intro on the set by film critic Tony Rayns, who does an amazing job at giving each film the needed context to guide the viewer through each entry. Other extras are a bit about the trilogy as a whole, also by Tony Rayns; a fascinating archival interview with director Seijun Suzuki; and a 60-page book featuring background on each of the film the films. Each of the films is also presented in their native aspect ratio with restoration notes on the transfers as follows:
The films in The Taishō Trilogy have been restored by Free Stone Productions in Japan using the original film and audio elements. Zeigeunerweisen and Kageroza are presented in their original aspect ratios of 1.37:1. Yumeji is presented in it original aspect ratio of 1.66:1. The films contain their original mono (LPCM 2.0 mono) soundtracks.
For those who have picked up other Japanese Arrow releases, I can vouch that the transfers here are definitely the best these films have looked on home media. Given the source material, Yumeji is definitely the most vibrant and colorful of the three, followed by Kagero-za and finally Zigeunerweisen.
For fans of Seijun Suzuki, the “Taisho Trilogy” is a must pick-up. Arrow Academy has curated an excellent collection that highlights these surreal masterpieces that changed Japanese cinema. The three films not only showcase the talents of this eccentric director, but also illustrate the issues with the Japanese studio system, since Suzuki was only able to make these films after being blacklisted from the industry. Made without studio resources, essentially forcing the director to start from scratch, Suzuki truly crafted his own unique surreal and lurid vision within the “Taisho Trilogy.”
