Kenji Mizoguchi
I Racconti della Luna Pallida d'Agosto

THE REVIEW

The 1950s have just begun. We are in 1953, to be precise. The Western world has only recently come to know and appreciate the great masters of Eastern cinema, including Akira Kurosawa (Seven Samurai), Yasujiro Ozu (Late Spring), and Kenji Mizoguchi, who won the Golden Lion in Venice that very year with what is considered his greatest masterpiece, the subject of this review, Ugetsu.

Japan has always been connected to the Kaidan, the literary genre that tells ghost stories: this film originates from two tales by an 18th-century author, Ueda Akinari, who narrates the story of a farmer who abandons his family in search of fortune. Two stories that are fused into a poetic flow thanks to the wonderful writing of Mizoguchi and his trusted screenwriter, Yoda Yoshikata: thus, in this film, there are two farmers, Tobei, obsessed with the desire to become a renowned samurai, and Genjuro, who hopes to make a good profit from the pots he produces. Their dreams come first and foremost, even more important than their respective families, destined for a disastrous end:

[WARNING SPOILER!] Miyagi, Genjuro's wife, will die during his absence, while Ohama, Tobei's wife, will be forced into prostitution. [END SPOILER]

During his journey, Genjuro will be seduced by Lady Wakasa, who, however, turns out not to be what she seems. The relationship with the Lady will transform Genjuro, who, upon his return home, will reunite with his wife...

As mentioned earlier, this film can be attributed to the narrative genre of "Kaidan" (I hope Japan enthusiasts will forgive any error in the use of the plural of this term), or ghost stories, and will serve as a source for what many years later will be defined as J-horror, a genre of horror specific to the Land of the Rising Sun that revolves around otherworldly presences, deceased maidens returning to haunt the living, all characterized by very pale skin and black hair. Consequently, we could define this film as fundamental for the future of Japanese and, at least in part, Western horror cinema.

However, there is a clarification to be made: Ugetsu does not assume a terrifying connotation. The ghosts in this film do not play the same role they might in films like Ringu (perhaps the most important Japanese horror film featuring ghost stories). The ghosts of the Mizoguchi/Yoshikata duo do not aim to instill fright and fear in Genjuro and the viewer. Instead, they create a sense of unease, because both the protagonist and we who watch the film know the ghost characters under a guise that will later be revealed as entirely incorrect: only at the end will we learn their true identity and their true story. After all, Mizoguchi makes realism his trademark, and consequently, the supernatural element, when present, is always kept in check, never spilling into the grotesque situations typical of horror films.

As is typical of Mizoguchi's cinema, unlike that of the other great master Akira Kurosawa, it is the figure of the woman that holds greater prominence in this film: all the female characters in Ugetsu are, in some way, victims of the destructive force of man, who brings chaos, war, and death, and must redeem themselves in some way. If necessary, even by returning from the Hereafter...

An undisputed masterpiece of Eastern cinema and, in my humble opinion, worldwide, Ugetsu is a film that must be rediscovered, not only by cinephiles. It is a perfect example of a film that continues even after the credits roll, in the viewer's mind, who will continue to ponder it for a while: few films are so powerful as to implant themselves in the mind of the viewer, taking on new life, like a parasite. However, this is a parasite that one should never get rid of.