#912: ICHIKAWA, Kon: An Actor's Revenge (1963)
ICHIKAWA, Kon (Japan)
An Actor's Revenge [1963]
Spine #912
Blu-ray
The Booklet
Thirty-two page booklet featuring an essay by critic Michael Sragow and a 1955 article by Ichigawa on the beginning of his work in an anamorphic widescreen format.
Commentary
None
Interview 1
From 1999 Directors Guild of Japan with Ichikawa, conducted by film critic Yuki Mori.
An Actor's Revenge [1963]
Spine #912
Blu-ray
A uniquely prolific and chameleonic figure of world cinema, Kon Ichikawa delivered a burst of stylistic bravado with this intricate tale of betrayal and retribution. Set in the cloistered world of nineteenth-century kabuki theater, the film charts a female impersonator's attempts to avenge the deaths of his parents, who were driven to insanity and suicide by a trio of corrupt men. Ichikawa takes the conventions of melodrama and turns them on their head, bringing the hero's fractured psyche to life in boldly experimental widescreen compositions infused with kaleidoscopic color, pop-art influences, and meticulous choreography. Anchored by a magnificently androgynous performance by Kazuo Hasegawa, reprising a role he had played on-screen three decades earlier, An Actor's Revenge is an eye-popping examination of how the illusions of art intersect with life.
113 minutes
Color
Monaural
in Japanese
2:39:1 aspect ratio
Monaural
in Japanese
2:39:1 aspect ratio
Criterion Release 2018
Director/Writers
Based on the novel by Otokichi Mikami.
Adapted by Daisuke Ito and Teinosuke Kinugasa.
Screenplay by Natto Wada.
Kon Ichikawa was 42 when he directed An Actor's Revenge.
Other Ichikawa films in the Collection:
#379: The Burmese Harp (1956)
#378: Fires On The Plain (1959)
#155/#900: Tokyo Olympiad (1965)
#567: The Makioka Sisters (1983)
The Film
Other Ichikawa films in the Collection:
#379: The Burmese Harp (1956)
#378: Fires On The Plain (1959)
#155/#900: Tokyo Olympiad (1965)
#567: The Makioka Sisters (1983)
The Film
The five Ichikawa films in the Collection certainly represent his very best work; but one could definitely add on some others: Conflagration, aka Enjô (1958); Odd Obsession (1959); and Being Two Isn’t Easy (1962), the film he made immediately prior to this one.
Pushed into widescreen (see below), Ichikawa was up for the challenge. The screen erupts in color, and — like much great Japanese art — the empty space resonates.
The revenge story is Shakespearean and probably older, but it kicks into gear quickly, and captivates …
Kazuo Hasegawa is fantastic in the dual role of the female-impersonator Kabuki actor Yukinojo Nakamura and Yamitaro, the thief. Hasegawa — originally an actual Kabuki actor — transitioned to film in this exact dual-role in Kinugasa’s 1935 film Yukinojo henge.
[A caption informs us that this is Hasegawa’s 300th film role, quite possible with the IMDb listing 273 acting credits beginning in 1927. Many of his early silents could have been lost or destroyed.]
Fujiko Yamamoto is adorable as the likable pickpocket Ohatsu; Ayako Wakao (Namiji) lives up to her reputation as “the most beautiful woman in all of Japan.”
The three bad guys are beautifully cast: Hiromiya (Eijiro Yanagi), Sansai Dobe (Ganjiro Nakamura), and Kawaguchiya (Saburo Date) — Nakamura is particularly scary.
Shintaro Katsu (Zatoichi) plays a minor role as a tough guy priest.
Film Rating (0-60):
55
The ExtrasThe Booklet
Thirty-two page booklet featuring an essay by critic Michael Sragow and a 1955 article by Ichigawa on the beginning of his work in an anamorphic widescreen format.
Sragow:
“Ichikawa transforms a standard period revenge plot, rooted in the cross-dressing kabuki theater of the 1830s, into a hypnotic prism that generates fresh colors as he holds each facet to the light. The palette of the film is psychedelic: the opening performance explodes in red, pink, gold, white, and purple. The kabuki proscenium, letterboxed against the darkness, looks wider than widescreen — it’s an incandescent ribbon that tests the limits of the frame. And in Ichikawa’s hands, even the shape of the screen seems changeable. He breaks up the space with exhilarating audacity, whether by adopting an artful version of picture-in-picture or literally spotlighting his characters (in the theater or in the street) or dissolving boundaries so that a snow-blanketed stage stretches out in all directions like a vast Arctic landscape. The story runs the gamut from farce, soap opera, and action-packed chanbara all the way to heart-crushing tragicomedy. The supporting characters cover the emotional spectrum. They can be satirically rapacious and grotesque yet still transfix us with their pathos and terror.”
Ichikawa:
“The mighty nabobs who ran the studio passed down the word after one of their production meetings. ‘It has been decided,’ they intoned, ‘that you next film will be shot in CinemaScope [Daiseiscope, to get technical].’ My first response was one of utter confusion. How could I possibly learn to master that monstrously elongated screen in a way that would benefit my filmmaking?
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the standard-size screen — just slightly wider than square — had become so familiar over time that it was almost a part of me … now all of a sudden, new windows had appeared to the right and left of that original one, and it was up to me to learn how to connect them. The way in which I perceived the world had to be revised, and quickly. Much practice would be required before I could understand how beauty operated in this new stretched-out format. To be frank, I found the whole idea quite unsettling.
In the end, though, CinemaScope completely won me over. There is something about that screen stretching from one end of the stage to the other that makes watching a film strangely pleasurable …”
Commentary
None
Interview 1
From 1999 Directors Guild of Japan with Ichikawa, conducted by film critic Yuki Mori.
Mori — an Ichikawa expert — comes prepared for this hour-long interview. He covers every period of his career, yet jumps from Burmese Harp (1956) {Spine #379} to Tokyo Olympiad (1965) {Spine #155/#900}, without even touching on the present film.
Of interest is a brief discussion of the disastrous 1969 attempt to create a production company — The “Four Horsemen” — or “Club of the Four Knights” (Yonki no kai), where Ichikawa politely refrains from being too harsh on Kurosawa, who — having bailed from Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970) — was the only one of the four directors (the others were Kinoshita and Kobayashi) to make a film (Dodes’ka-den [1970] {Spine #465}) — which flopped miserably.
Short essay on this quirky film.
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