the “other” inside
by Douglas Messerli
Teinosuke Kinugasa and Masaichi Nagata (screenplay,
based on the play “Kesa’s Husband” by Kan Kikuchi), Teinosuke Kinugasa
(director) Jigokumon (Gate of Hell) / 1953, USA 1954
With the introduction of color film by Eastman Kodak that allowed a single strip film camera to carry three dye emulsions, producing a high level color, Japanese director Teinosuke Kingugasa created the first commercially produced color film in Japan in 1953. For a country that had lagged far behind US color films, it was a startling feat, displaying some of the deepest and richest colors in all of cinema, particularly in the Japanese medieval tale’s lavish costumes and sets, allowing the director to blend the colorful flourishes with rich woven textures. The film won the Cannes’ Palme d’Or and the Best Foreign Language Film at the 1955 Academy Awards, as well as the Academy Award for the Best Costume Design.
But, as Stephen Prince writes in the
liner-essay to Criterion’s DVD restoration of Gate of Hell, “although Eastman Kodak’s new film stock (5248)
offered revolutionary cost savings…unlike those of three-strip Technicolor, its
colors did not prove to be long lasting.” And within a few years Kingugasa’s
great film had nearly disappeared.
Fortunately the studio Daiei had made
separation masters in black-and-white that record all the color information,
and in 2011 was restored to its original beauty, the edition that Criterion has
published.
As Morito (Kazuo Hasegawa) attempts to
awaken the startled Kesa, he is possessed by her beauty, but is distracted by
the return of his brother and others, whom he quickly discovers has gone over
to the side of the rebels. Defending his position and continuing to protect
Lady Kesa, he rebuffs his brother’s behavior. And when the rebellion has ended,
the emperor(s)* restored to their rightful place, his brother is killed as a
traitor. Visiting his brother’s memorial, sometime later, Morito once again encounters
Lady Kesa and her aunt who have stopped also by the Gate of Hell, and two share
a brief conversation.
When Gen Kiyomori (Koreya Senda) awards
his loyal warriors' gifts of their own choosing, Morito asks that the General
intercede on his behalf for a marriage between himself and Lady Kesa, only to
discover that Lady Kesa is already married to the palace guard, Wataru
Watanabe, a gentle and loving man. So possessed has he become, however, that he
stubbornly refuses to accept any other award, and pursues the beautiful Kesa,
against all advice, throughout the rest of the film, battling with Wataru in
several ways, through a horserace, threats, and, finally, threatening Kesa and
her aunt themselves, determining to kill Wataru in his sleep and claim his
prize.
Terrorized by the now near-mad Morito,
Kesa promises she will help with the murder of her husband, but cleverly
manipulates him into her bedroom, while she moves into his. As Morito creeps in
to kill her husband, he stabs Kesa to death instead, and, discovering, his
horrible crime, confesses everything to Wataru, challenging the guard to end
the warrior’s life. The wise and now suffering Wataru refuses—insisting that
such an act can do nothing to restore his lover’s life. And the guilt-stricken
and suddenly saner Morito abandons his sacred status, cutting off his chonmage (his queue of hair) to become a
wondering monk.
And indeed, that psychological tension
between what things outwardly seem to be and inwardly actually are is behind
several of Kinugasa’s themes. From the very beginning we perceive that people
are not always who they seem to be: Lady Kesa is not the empress fleeing the
palace, Morito’s brother is no longer a loyal supporter of the throne. Although
clearly loyal and brave, Morito is at heart a potential murderer and a selfish
destroyer of marital bliss.
But even here, in the seemingly deep love
between Wataru and Lady Kesa, we can only wonder if things are precisely as
they appear. Why has Kesa not herself told Morito of her marriage when he first
kissed her at his brother’s house or when he verbally accosted her and her aunt
at the Gate of Hell. Although the aunt seems friendly and kind, she is also,
apparently, a kind gossipy old woman, spending far too much time telling Morito
about her niece, even when Kesa herself attempts to demure and escape.
After the horserace between Morito and
Wataru, the later an experienced winner of the annual even, Wataru is accused
by his fellow guards as having purposely lost. Did he, perhaps, inwardly doubt
his wife’s version of events, resulting in his failure to whip on his horse to
winning? Certainly, Wataru might have sought more explanation for his wife’s
involvement with Morito in the first place.
Although General Kiyommori attempts to
dissuade Morito from his interest in Kesa, he still manipulates a meeting in
the palace between the two. Even though Kesa is wary of events, why does she
still chance the night-time walk to her aunt’s house? Even the truly noble and
gentle Wataru cannot explain why his angelic Kesa had not come to him to tell
him of Morito’s threats. Did she so fear his inability to deter Morito, just as
he had lost the horse race, that she was willing to sacrifice herself?
These questions and many others are
(fortunately) never answered by Kinugasa’s film, for the very tensions between
the inside and the outside of the selves in this culture are what create the
most significant moments of this profound film. In such a beautiful world as
the one the director has created before our eyes, it is hard to see the darker
recesses of the individuals with whom he presents us. And we can only guess of
the “other” inside each of these historical figures.
*Historians tell us that during this period in
Japan there were two emperors, one, hermetically separated, who made all
decisions, the other living as a more available figurehead.
Los Angeles, September 10, 2013
Reprinted
from World Cinema Review (September
2013).
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