Civilization may be in shambles, but at least we have Criterion's Imamura DVD box set to comfort us.
In Imamura's 1964 film Intentions of Murder, one of the main characters -- a senior librarian -- goes through library stacks and somewhat surprisingly mutters the title of the book he is looking for: Eros and Civilization. At first impression, it's a throwaway line and a dispensable linking scene in the larger narrative scheme of things. But if you know that Eros and Civilization refers to the 1955 book by German philosopher Herbert Marcuse that reinterprets the connection between human instincts, repression, and society against the ideas of Marx and Freud, to put it in a vulgar way, the intention becomes crystal clear. In actuality, "Eros and civilization" so aptly encapsulates Imamura's filmmaking preoccupations, characters, and story-worlds. (So much so that I've stolen the title of James Quandt's essay.) Criterion's recent release of the Imamura box set of three 1960s films provides a more earthy and frank variation of "Eros and civilization" with the alliterative title, ahem, Pigs, Pimps & Prostitutes.
Pigs and Battleships (1961), The Insect Woman (1963), and Intentions of Murder (1964) make up the box set, and represent -- for Imamura and audiences alike -- a filmmaker coming into his own, despite being studio-bound (to Nikkatsu). Through these films we get to know the oft-discussed "Imamura heroine": sensual, driven by self-determination despite constant obstacles -- physical, economic, you name it -- perhaps not too profound to talk about identity politics but possessed of an intelligence, knowledge, and power that can only be sculptured by the hand of concrete experience and an openness to anything.
Take Sadako in Intentions of Murder: a maid who was taken advantage of by her employer, to whom she became married but who still treats her like a maid. An unexpected encounter with a sickly, impulsive thief who rapes her and henceforth hounds her actually provokes even more her instinct to live, to eat, to love -- all against the more "official" duty to commit suicide after the rape. In fact, her failed attempts at suicide provide a surprisingly comic foil to the legitimacy of following her more earthly desires.
Sadako is quite the companion-character to The Insect Woman's Tomé (Sachiko Hidari), though with less autonomy in terms of mobility and wherewithal. And though more complications accompany greater mobility and access to different surviving means, Tomé takes on factory work (being a madam), shuttling back and forth between city and country with such stride that it's exhausting. Despite the sole focus on Tomé, The Insect Woman is very much a microhistory of epic proportions (the more literal translation of the original Japanese title Nippon konchuki would be "record of insect life in Japan"), unfolding like the Bayeux tapestry, against the backdrop of some of the major events of 20th century Japanese history.
These two films are also quite similar in form/technique in their approach to the lives of these two women. Freeze frames, poetic almost incantatory voice-overs by the women, claustrophobic framing in widescreen, and a distended and episodic story structure characterise Imamura's intimate, sensual, yet detached style.
Though undeniably corporeal and with emotional force, some viewers may be surprised -- or even disappointed -- by The Insect Woman and Intentions of Murder, especially if they are expecting something similar to the more literally bawdy, openly satirical over-the-top-ness of Pigs and Battleships. I have to say that I had this kind of reaction to Intentions of Murder which, though possessing some great images and moments -- the Eros and Civilization line, among them -- and as devastating a portrait of the drudgery of domestic life and rapist-victim relations as it is, is a little too drawn out at some points. In contrast, The Insect Woman is rightly the centerpiece of the box set.
I'm definitely one of those entirely seduced by the below-the-belt punches that Pigs and Battleships delivers when it comes to talking about -- and representing -- postwar U.S.-Japan relations, with military bases and prostitution going hand-in-hand, among other things. To use pig farming as a kind of metaphor to deal with postwar reconstruction (or destruction and deconstruction, depending on whose point of view) and make it literal through to the end with its pig-o-rama denouement, is just splendid, in my opinion. And no one gets spared: American soldiers, small-time Japanese hoodlums, Chinese and Korean entrepreneurs, Japanese prostitutes, the nuclear family (there is none), and of course, pigs literal and figurative.
In the eye of the storm is Haruko, a young woman whose limited options (become an American soldier's mistress, continue to put up with her boyfriend-hoodlum Kinta and remain in Yokosuka) are slowly closing in on her, but she never loses sight of what she could be -- even if it just means working in a factory in Kawasaki. That's a powerful thing, and a trait shared by Tomé and The Insect Woman, and sadly lacking in Intentions of Murder. Further pressed for comparison, Pigs and Battleships and The Insect Woman provide a scope that goes beyond the local and provokes the better of Imamura's biting and humorous wit and critique, while Intentions of Murder very much keeps to the small reach of Sadako's world, and suffers some wear and tear because of it, aggravated in part by the film's nearly three-hour running time.
Overriding these small criticisms is the wonderful and beautiful black-and-white widescreen cinematography helmed by mainstay Imamura collaborator Himeda Shinsaku. I dare anyone to deny that sixties Japanese films demonstrate some of the most stellar uses of widescreen cinematography, including these three films at hand. Though it's still early in the year, for my money this box set ranks in the top five DVD releases of 2009. It's definitely been a long time coming: for some time finding a decent copy in any format of Pigs and Battleships had been an elusive pursuit -- let alone Intentions of Murder. I had the great opportunity to watch the former at LACMA four years ago, and had been on the search ever since. Pigs, Pimps and Prostitutes contains no audio commentaries sadly enough, but the interviews with film critic Tony Rayns on each of the films provide a handy equivalent and are therefore an appreciated inclusion.
Eros may be sick/repressed and civilization always crumbling/declining, but at least we have Imamura's acerbic and comical perspectives on it.
For commentary on image quality and examples of DVD captures, click here.