Sanshô Dayû (1954) Sanshô The Bailiff - Criterion Dual-Audio Remaster + Extras

Sanshô Dayû (1954) Sanshô The Bailiff - Criterion Dual-Audio Remaster
XviD/AVI | 192kbps AC3x2 | 640 x 480 (1.33:1) | Japanese + English Commentary | Subs: EN srt | 2hr 04 min | 1.44 GB (DVD5 x 0.33)
Classic

Directed by Kenji Mizoguchi. Based on an ancient legend, as recounted by celebrated author Mori Ogai (in his short story of the same name, written in 1915), and adapted by Mizoguchi in 1954, Sanshô Dayû is both distinctively Japanese and as deeply affecting as a Greek tragedy. Described in its opening title as “one of the oldest and most tragic in Japan’s history”, Mizoguchi depicts an unforgettably sad story of social injustice, family love, personal sacrifice, and fateful tragedy.


Set in Heian era (11th century) Japan, it follows an aristocratic woman, Tamaki (played by Tanaka Kinuyo, who also stars in Mizoguchi’s Ugetsu Monogatari), and her two children, Zushio (Hanayagi Yoshiaki) and Anju (Kagawa Kyoko), who are separated by feudal tyranny from Tamaki’s husband. When the children are kidnapped and sold into slavery to the eponymous Sansho (Shindo Eitaro), the lives of each of the family members follow very different paths – each course uniquely, and insufferably, tragic.


Famed for its period reconstructions and powerful imagery, often through the director’s trademark long takes, Sansho Dayu is one of the most critically revered of all of Mizoguchi’s films, and a classic of world cinema, often cropping up in lists of the greatest films ever made.


When an idealistic governor disobeys the reigning feudal lord, he is cast into exile, his wife and children left to fend for themselves and eventually wrenched apart by vicious slave traders. Under Kenji Mizoguchi’s dazzling direction, this classic Japanese story became one of cinema’s greatest masterpieces, a monumental, empathetic expression of human resilience in the face of evil.


A humane provincial governor in 11th century Japan is forced into exile by his political opponents, and the members of his family (wife, son and daughter) fall victim to all the cruelties of the period while on their way to join him. Mizoguchi views this deliberately simple story (in Japan it is known as a folk-tale) from two perspectives at once: from the inside, as an overwhelmingly moving account of a man (the son) facing up to his own capacity for barbarism; and from the outside, as an infinitely tender meditation on history and individual fate. The twin perspectives yield a film that is both impassioned and elegiac, dynamic in its sense of the social struggle and the moral options, and yet also achingly remote in its fragile beauty. The result is even more remarkable than it sounds.


The fundamental barrier encountered by films based in medieval times is one of separation, the lack of reference points for a contemporary audience. To step around this you can weave unambiguous themes into your tale (the commonality of thwarted love maybe) or spice up the enterprise with vigorous action. In Sanshô Dayû, Kenji Mizoguchi does neither; his direction is stubbornly true to the milieu. Obviously he hopes that by defining characters strongly, making their predicament tangibly unforgiving, the audience will become drawn in despite themselves. In this Mizoguchi is reasonably successful, so directly does Sanshô Dayû deal with the leading roles and what happens to them. And yet, for all this effort, it's difficult to connect with the film and somehow identify with the plight of Zushiô and Anju. Sanshô Dayû is not badly made though, quite the reverse, it's just that there's a culture gap in the way.


As Sanshô Dayû is such a close-up, deliberately personal experience, the cast members must act with great subtlety and skill. There's no room for egotistical, showy emotion here; it would, in a moment, destroy the fragile tenderness that Mizoguchi works so hard to construct. It's thus a relief to note that, as the adult orphans, both Hanayagi and Kagawa are excellent. The love and devotion that they feel, the protecting shield, shines out. Despite their bondage, the crushing of hope at every turn, they support each other and long for the day when their undeserved descent is reversed. Tanaka is also excellent, maternally protective in the extreme and relentless in her struggle to escape Sado Island. In the brief time that Tanaka shares with Kato and Enami, they convince as a family.


Yet as important as the cast is to Sanshô Dayû, there is an ethereal side to the film of equal weight. This is where photography, direction, score, lighting and a thousand other elements react to form something new and unique. In capturing the actors and their setting, Kazuo Miyagawa occasionally reaches great heights of perspective and composition; the family walking through a field of tall cotton grass makes for an indelible image. This light touch can be identified quite early on, when the story meshes past with present via flashback, before skipping gently forward in time. Together Mizoguchi and Miyagawa give you just enough rope, always proceeding naturally as they let events unfold; the payback is that Sanshô Dayû runs the full gamut of emotion, from desire to despair. The original music of Fumio Hayasaka, Tamekichi Mochizuki & Kanahichi Odera adds to, and matches, this environment with considerable, understated power.


Curiously, during the watching process itself, the realisation that this is a remarkable film arrives accompanied by emotional detachment. While the legend is both compelling and terrible in this format, it is neither involving nor immediate. The foundation for this lies in Mizoguchi's underplayed direction, whereby most aspects of Sanshô Dayû display scant emotion, keeping all feelings in check. This is absolutely the right choice but it doesn't leave the audience much to latch onto, leaving you in limbo. Still, the morality at the film's heart emerges mountain stream clear; despite betrayal and struggle, Zushiô comes to follow his father's instructions on compassion and humanity. There can be no grounds on which to condone slavery, being a singularly indecent act; Mizoguchi triumphs in making this point above all others.


EXTRAS

Supplements include a thoroughly professional audio commentary by Japanese literature professor Jeffrey Angles. He examines the various versions of Sanshô Dayû and where Mizoguchi and the writers, Fuji Yahiro and Yoshikata Yoda, took liberties with the original Ogai Mori story. Pretty high-brow stuff but after introducing himself in Japanese, Angles goes on to give an entertaining and informative commentary. There are some short gaps where he lets the narrative flow and times where he himself narrates/explains some less than obvious plot details. In short it is as professional and prepared a commentary as I have heard this year. No one who bothers to listen will be disappointed.

This is as perfect and complete a DVD as you are ever to likely purchase. A masterpiece of a film, in as pure a form as technically available, with viable and relevant extra features. Criterion continues to raise the bar and this DVD is absolutely essential. Gary W. Tooze

Actress Kyoko Kawaga Interview (2007)

Assistant Director Tokuzo Tanaka Interview (2005)

Film Critic Tadao Sato Interview (2005)

RS Links - Sanshô The Bailiff (1954) - With Audio Commentary Track [4:3]
Part 01|Part 02|Part 03|Part 04|Part 05|Part 06|Part 07|Part 08
Part 09|Part 10|Part 11|Part 12|Part 13|Part 14|Part 15|Part 16

RS Links - Sanshô Dayû Extras - Three Essential Interviews [16:9]
Part 01|Part 02|Part 03|Part 04