Criterion Collection: The Life of Oharu | Blu-ray Review

After remastering Mizoguchi’s Sansho the Bailiff earlier this year for Blu-ray, Criterion unleashes another of the auteur’s trio of early 50’s Venice prize winners with 1952’s The Life of Oharu, a classic tragedy exemplifying the director’s favorite theme, the plight of woman in a world cruelly controlled by men. While Sansho has enjoyed a considerable reputation in the annals of cinema, Mizoguchi openly criticized the studio interference that hobbled his original intentions, instead he often citing this earlier title as his greatest achievement. Considering it was made without sufficient funding and filmed in a warehouse instead of sound stage that necessitated filming be halted frequently due to passing trains, it’s fascinating to see the auteur, infamous for his meticulous, uninterrupted takes, succeed so gloriously in form and content here.

Opening on a dark, rainy night, we meet the aged Oharu (Kinuyo Tanaka), a prostitute commiserating with her colleagues about the lack of business, trying to cheerfully relate an incident earlier in the evening where a man cruelly used her in a degrading experience by cajoling her attempts to hide her age. Huddling over a fire, some homeless men point out that Oharu used to be a courtesan, deliberating on what could have caused such a miserable demise from such promising beginnings.

Flashing back to her late adolescence in 1686, we learn that Oharu was a beautiful young courtesan who made the mistake of falling in love with a man below her rank, an idealistic page, Katsunosuke (Toshiro Mifune). In a desperate attempt to woo her, he is discovered in a compromising scenario with Oharu. Since canoodling between the classes is illegal, this results in his execution and the eternal banishment of both her and her parents (for failing to raise her properly) from Kyoto. This is simply the first of many unfortunate events Oharu will experience. Her father is severely unhappy with his daughter, but, as if out of some sort of perverse Cinderella narrative, luck seems to shine on the beautiful Oharu once more when she is literally handpicked to be the concubine for the extremely picky Lord Matsudaira (Toshiaki Konoe) in order to bear him an heir. She does so successfully, but the sterile Lady Matsudaira (Hisako Yimane) is jealous of her beauty, and it’s not long before Oharu is cruelly returned, nearly penniless, to her parents. Her father has racked up huge debt in anticipation of the money he thought they’d receive due to his daughter’s new job, so he now must sell her as geisha in the pleasure district. A series of ups and downs (but mostly, insistent downs) are in store for the still hopeful Oharu, who still manages to conjure images of Katsunosuke, her one true love, in the blank faced Buddha statues at a temple she frequents.

As has often been discussed in relation to Mizoguchi’s work, who in recent years has come out of the shadow of Kurosawa and Ozu to stand (at least) on equal footing with their cinematic legacies, he happens to be one of the few male directors to truly revere and understand the plight of women in a misogynistic world, and The Life of Oharu stands as the pinnacle of one of the most tragic and most untheatrical portrayals of female degradation ever put to screen (until Lars Von Trier, that is). It perhaps goes without saying that the film owes much of its pathos to a stoic and emotionally subdued performance from the legendary Kinuyo Tanaka, a frequent collaborator with Mizoguchi and who became the first female Japanese director (in 1953, no less). There are more than a handful of degrading moments experienced by Oharu, referred to as a “fish on a chopping board” when she slaps a bag of coins out of a grubby client’s hand, or, in a more heart rending scene, when she’s humiliated as an older woman by the pilgrim referred to at the start of the narrative, citing her as a “goblin cat in human form,” querulously asking “who would want to sleep with such a woman?”

Disc Review

Ichiro Saito’s minimal, subdued score is perfectly rendered in this new digital transfer. A few of the frames appear to have been irreparably damaged with some slight scuffs in evidence, however fleeting. An informative essay from Gilberto Perez, as well as an audio essay from film scholar Dudley Andrew are of considerable interest, as is a lovely 2009 short documentary from Koko Kajiyama concerning Kinyou Tanaka’s 1949 goodwill tour of the United States.

Mizoguchi’s Art and the Demimonde
A very informative and engaging essay from Dudley Andrew goes into considerable depth on Mizoguchi and his difficulty in getting The Life of Oharu to the big screen, which is based on Saikaku Ihara’s novel, The Life of an Amorous Woman. Andrew also provides commentary for the first 28 minutes of the film.

The Travels of Kinuyo Tanaka
Reactions (or misinterpretations, rather) in Japan of Tanaka’ 1949 goodwill US tour are examined in this brief but edifying glimpse at Tanaka’s illustrious career. Known as “the Bette Davis of Japan,” Tanaka is shown in rare footage at the residence of Ms. Davis on a Hollywood visit (along with photographs appearing next to a host of US stars, like Janet Leigh and Joan Crawford).

Final Thoughts

Beginning with a familiar framing device, akin to something like Alexander Korda’s 1941 film That Hamilton Woman, where a bedraggled and homeless Vivien Leigh relates her rise and fall of hobnobbing with royalty, Mizoguchi’s The Life of Oharu ranks as one of the most enduringly harrowing tales committed to screen, all the more powerful for its lack of melodramatic flourish. Oharu exists in a cruel world where woman is worth as much as whatever her fleshly form could be used for, at least according to the mores of whatever class system she belonged to. Of course, it goes without saying, once a whore/courtesan, a woman is forever targeted to be treated as such by men and women alike.

Much like his underrated and final film, 1956’s Street of Shame, prostitution is a fascinating subject for Mizoguchi (as discussed in this disc’s extra features), and he transcends possible exploitation to show us the human faces and personalities beyond this commodification of flesh. Proud, beautiful, and sincere, as the narrative progresses and Oharu ages, the film takes on a much more sinister tone, the final hope being that the end of her existence has to bring positive elements life has never given her, such as peace and anonymity. While we witness her degradation, we keep thinking that something’s gotta give. Mizoguchi’s saying that for women living under patriarchal rule, nothing does.