Nagisa Oshima was the author of a cinema of enormous complexity and artistic value, and of extraordinary cultural enrichment. Yet undoubtedly a cinema not for all tastes, difficult to follow for the Western viewer who may get lost in the richness of dialogues and faces (somatically, moreover, all similar) in his films; it is no coincidence that, among the greatest authors in the history of cinema (of which he is a part without a doubt), he is still among the least known, at least in these parts, except for some relatively famous titles like Furyo or The Empire of the Senses. For his work, as for that of a few others, the label of art-house cinema absolutely applies.

The Ceremony is among his most important and representative works, a film that sums up his poetics, among his major commercial successes of the time, and represents like few other things the sense of collective rituality, whether it be a funeral or a wedding (which represent two sides of the same coin and which, not coincidentally, both are celebrated in the form of a ceremony, precisely). The sense of existential unease of a nation and individuals in a long post-war period, the remains of the defeat and the tragic mortification of an entire people have never completely disappeared. And where everything, over decades, changes to remain the same: the chains of the institution of Family and Traditions. The impossibility of love between members of this same family (a family rich in incestuous relationships, Oshima is among the most daring and provocative Japanese directors ever), just as in Furyo the impossibility will be given by conventions and differences in alignment and culture. Oshima's love has always worn forbidden colors.

The Ceremony, a film whose theatrical influence is decisive in the staging of the aforementioned rituality, is among the masterpieces of Japanese cinema of all time. One of those films to watch at least once in a lifetime. Better twice, though.

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