The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums review – slow-burning storytelling
A favourite of film buffs, this Japanese classic about a Kabuki actor finding his muse is elegant, rich and ultimately heartbreaking
New Yorkers looking to duck into a theater over Christmastime without having their Force awakened have an option whose speed couldn’t be more different from JJ Abrams’ hyperspace velocity. Director Kenji Mizoguchi is best known to wider audiences for his 1950s films Ugetsu and Sansho the Bailiff, but one can see glimpses of his signature style of long takes, dolly shots and an emphasis on strong women characters in his earlier, pre-war work.
Among the most celebrated is 1939’s The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums which, despite being a favourite of film buffs, is making its first official theatrical bow with a two-week engagement at the Film Society of Lincoln Center. With a stately pace and classicist intentions, this drama about an actor finding his muse is a notable standout during the most harried time of year.
Set in Japan’s Meiji Period (late 1800s), The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums stars Shotaro Hanayagi as Kiku, the adopted son of a great Kabuki actor trying desperately to live up to his family’s name. While no one will say it to his face, his live performances are subpar. The only one who’ll speak plainly to him is Otoku (Kakuko Mori), a low-born servant girl (a wet nurse, specifically) who works in the family mansion. Otuku is compelled to tell Kiku that the others mock him behind his back, but not because she wants to make him feel bad. She senses greatness in him, and wants to motivate him to do better. They fall in love and she is dismissed by Kiku’s father (Gonjuro Kawarazaki), so they decide to live together in exile.
What follows is a very long, slow and circuitous route to an eventual triumph on the stage. But before Kiku can hear the huzzahs of the crowd and feel the embrace of his family he has to take his show on the road, slumming it in small-town theaters, with faithful Otoku essentially sacrificing everything to help bring this budding talent to full bloom.
The sexual politics are certainly thorny. Kiku will never better himself without her by his side, and Otoku seems fully committed to the central thrust of their union. The “behind every great man” cliche doesn’t quite jibe with current attitudes regarding female agency, but Mizoguchi’s intentions were, for their time, quite sympathetic. With success comes a final, full understanding of just how essential Otoku has been for his growth. That Kabuki codes of the time meant that Kiku would attain his brass ring by playing a woman only adds flavour to the pot.
Mizoguchi’s pacing is one of great patience, featuring many elegantly blocked sequences with minimal cutting and few, if any, closeups. The interiors are finely detailed, and the early wooing scenes are rich with character. A curiously fascinating highlight includes the precise, customary preparation of an iced watermelon. I also now know that at 2am in 1880s Tokyo one could walk a busy street and easily find a street vendor selling wind chimes.
This new 4K restoration from Janus Films, which debuted at Cannes earlier this year, shows restraint by maintaining much of its film grain and avoiding some of the prevalent brightness often found with newly struck digital transfers. But gone are all the soundtrack pops that probably accompanied whichever chewed-up print last made it to your local rep house.
While not exactly action packed, The Story of the Last Chrysanthemum is still bravura visual storytelling. I’ll confess that the storylines of the plays-within-the-film may have escaped me, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t gladly watch twice as much of the mesmerizing Kabuki footage if given the chance. Backstage, however, the story remains universal, and the family dynamics of patrician 1880s Japan as seen through the lens of the late 1930s remain engaging and heartbreaking.
No comments:
Post a Comment