the delights without
by Douglas Messerli
Keiji Hasebe and Masahiro Shinoda
(writers, based on a story by Tsutomu Minakami), Masahiro Shinoda (director) はなれ瞽女おりん (Hanare Goze Orin) (Ballad of Orin) / 1977
Many critics of the day reacted to Masahiro
Shinoda’s 1977 film, Ballad of Orin,
quite negatively, The New York Times
Critic Vincent Canby harshly criticizing the movie as being all surface, a
pretty gazetteer of Japanese tourist destinations without any heart for its
central character’s plight. “You've probably never seen so many beautiful
mountains, plains, seacoasts and quaint villages, in sunlight, rain, snow and
fog, in summer and winter, spring and fall,” writes Canby while declaring the
work as “false.” Others found the work
quite “boring.”
Well,
yes, Ballad of Orin is quite
beautiful in a rather bleak way, since much of first half of the film is shot
in a wintry coastal city where the blind girl, Orin (played by the director’s
wife, Shima Iwashita) was born, and where she was taken as a young girl to a goze group, a community of blind women
who, working together, survive by performing traditional songs at family
celebrations and other events. In a sense, it reminds me of a kinder version of
the once popular schools for the deaf and blind that dotted the American
landscape—a kind of method for families to dump their deaf and blind children
with whom they couldn’t cope.
But the goze were also highly
religious, Buddhist in their vision, and strict in their demands. Pleasure,
especially sexual pleasure, is outlawed, and any goze who had sex is immediately ostracized from the community,
forced to go it alone.
And Teruyo, who becomes a gentle cobbler, is not a coward, daring to kill a peddler who rapes Orin, now further threatening his existence by becoming not only a deserter but a murderer. The police inevitably uncover his existence.
Yet in his relationship with Orin he has transformed her from an utter
outcast to a real woman, who might be a wife or a simply a talented contributor
to the society at large.
Roger Ebert has argued that the filmmakers of Shinoda’s filmmaking
generation are far more explicit about Japanese cultural differences than were
Shinoda’s own cinematic heroes, Yasujiro Ozu and Kenji Mizoguchi; but, in fact,
his subject matter—despite his careful narrative explanation of events—is far
more esoteric. The goze tradition and
the militaristic nature of Japanese culture
If
Orin seems, as Canby claims, to lack heart, it is not that she isn’t filled
with passionate emotions, but rather that she is excluded from the larger
society, is not permitted to openly express those feelings. If there is an
utter restraint in Ballad of Orin it
is anything but a polite prettiness, but rather is a cauldron of restrained
emotional responses. Orin might as well have been a young Chinese girl with
bound feet; yet, nonetheless, she has escaped her roped, open clogs the goze employ to walk through the snow,
but she has not been quite able, except with Teruyo, to open up about her own
feelings. When she does, wondering why he won’t have sex with her, we see
glimmers of a kind of ur-feminist, a woman who openly speaks about her own
feminine desires.
If
Orin is finally undone by her male companion, that is the way of her world, in
which male desire has so very determined her life, even within the all-female
society in which she grew up, that she is not even surprised. It is something
she simply recognizes, given the difficult life she has survived, it’s simply a
matter of fact.
Canby’s right in one sense only: Shinoda’s film is not “sloppy.” It is
as carefully crafted as a Japanese bento box; but oh the delights of what is
within? I will return to those treasures again and again.
Los Angeles, March 10, 2018
Reprinted from World Cinema Review (March 2018).
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