Onibaba

Warning: this review contains major spoilers.

Onibaba, Kaneto Shindo's psychosexual tale of unrequited lust and dubious morality, is a fantastic cautionary fable with a dark and unique atmosphere that falls just shy of achieving its lofty aims. Loosely adapted from a Buddhist fable warning against the evils of bitterness, the plot focuses on a pair of women in feudal Japan who live in the marshlands and eke out a meagre existence by murdering passing soldiers and selling their clothes and armour. Although reprehensible, this allows them to survive while the man in their life - the younger woman (Nobuko Otowa)'s husband and the older woman (Jitsuko Yoshimura)'s son - is away fighting in the wars. However, they suddenly find the very nature of their daily existence thrown into turmoil upon the arrival of the most demonic of all creatures: a man. Hachi (Kei Sato), their neighbour, returns from the wars with the news that the younger woman's husband is dead, and although initially distrustful, she strikes up a passionate affair with him... much to the chagrin of the older woman, whose anger is not so much derived from a sense of immorality but from the fear that her younger accomplice will go off with Hachi and leave her to fend for herself. Then, one night, a chance encounter with a passing soldier who wears a terrifying demon mask provides her with the perfect opportunity to teach her young companion a perfect lesson...

Like its similarly themed compatriot Woman in the Dunes, Onibaba is ripe with potent symbolism that, at times, verges on being overly blunt but is generally handled with flair by Kaneto Shindo, a man with a vast array of politically- and socially-motivated films to his name. The central theme is that of the darkness of the human soul, perhaps represented by the deep, black pit into which the two women throw the corpses of their victims. The film both begins and ends in the hole, and returns to it on many occasions throughout its duration, solidifying its place as an constant and inescapable entity. The notion of damnation is also incredibly potent: at one point, the old woman says there are only demons in Hell. Effectively, the desolate place in which they live and the life they lead, only barely surviving by committing copious acts of murder, is Hell itself, and the real demons are human beings. This is demonstrated first in the scene in which the old woman removes the demon mask from the soldier's face, only to find that, underneath this hideous visage, he is an ordinary human being, and later on when the she runs after her young counterpart, her face horrifically disfigured from having worn the mask for so long, and cries out that she is a human being, not a demon. The point is that her behaviour - wearing the mask so as to trick the younger woman into believing that she is a demon warning her away from Hachi - makes her more demonic than any fairytale devil.


Although perhaps tame by modern standards, the sexual content is remarkably explicit for a film made more than 40 years ago. The various sex scenes are raw and sweaty, a far cry from the glamorised manner in which the act is usually represented on film. Far from simply being there to titillate, it makes a serious point and represent the desperation and futility of life in this barren place. Hachi is never presented as anything other than a sexist pig who wants to take advantage of his nubile young neighbour, and the fact that she responds to his advantages clearly has more to do with her desperate need for human contact than having any actual feelings for him. Much of the film's tension is derived from the unspoken sexual energy that simmers below the surface, encapsulated by the billowing reeds, the sound of which is not unlike that of sensual moaning. Morality in this film is entirely relative. While the older woman warns her young accomplice that what she and Hachi are doing is sinful, it fairly quickly becomes clear that the only reason for her objection to their relationship is that she fears that she will be abandoned. Indeed, there is something incredibly duplicitous about someone who reprimands those who engage in the most natural of human activities while at the same time wilfully murdering innocents.

Beautifully photographed by Kiyomi Kuroda and set to Hikaru Hayashi's interesting and unique score, which combines a 60s jazzy aesthetic with a more traditional drum-based sound, Onibaba is frightening not so much for genuine horror moments (although there are a few of those) but for the fact that it serves as a warning for what human beings are capable of. Like the best parables, it transcends its location and time period and still resonates to this day.


DVD Presentation

By the standards of almost any other studio, this would be a very good DVD, and indeed I suspect that most viewers with small-to-average displays will have nothing to complain about. However, when compared to most of the rest of Criterion's impressive line-up, Onibaba's transfer falls short. The image looks somewhat soft, especially in long shots, and there is some noticeable edge enhancement. Looking at this alongside some of Criterion's best transfers for black and white films, in particular Eyes Without a Face and their jaw-dropping re-release of Fritz Lang's M, Onibaba is a world apart in terms of quality. This is not simply the result of poor quality source materials: DVD Beaver's comparison shows the R2 Japanese release to feature superior image quality. Furthermore, the theatrical trailer included on the Criterion disc looks quite a bit better than the transfer for the film itself, with much less edge enhancement and significantly more visible detail. At least the contrast is excellent, and there are few compression artefacts to be seen - very impressive, given the number of scenes that feature thousands of individual reeds swaying in the wind.

The soundtrack is the original mono Japanese mix, and the film's age and budgetary constraints certainly betray themselves. Although the Criterion team have done their best to clean the audio up, its fidelity remains limited and a lot of the dialogue sounds unnaturally shrill. That said, Hikaru Hayashi's powerful score sounds very good indeed, and the optional English subtitles are of a very high standard.


Extras

This is one of Criterion's second-tier releases, with a single disc rather than two and an RRP of $29.95 rather than $39.95. As such, there are fewer extras than on their more lavish releases, but what is included is of a typically high standard. Kicking off the fun is a brand-new 21-minute Kaneto Shindo interview in which the director, a spry 91-year-old, discusses his humble beginnings, inspirations and objectives for Onibaba, and the experience of producing it. Nearly 40-minutes of 8mm Behind the scenes footage, silent and mostly black and white, accompany this, along with a few pages of notes and photographs detailing numerous aspects of the production process. An incomplete Trailer and a Gallery featuring various production drawings, photographs and advertising materials rounds off the package.

As usual, Criterion have included a booklet, which essentially counts as an extra in itself due to the quality of its content. Film Comment contributing editor Chuck Stephens provides an informative essay covering the film's themes, while director Shindo provides a written introduction in which he discusses his aims and aspirations for the film. Finally, a translation is provided for A Mask with Flesh Scared a Wife, the original Buddhist fable that inspired the film.


Overall

With Onibaba, Criterion have added yet another interesting and powerful piece of work to their impressive catalogue. While this is one of their lower-tiered products and the transfer does not live up to their usually exceptional standards, this is a solid release that should not disappoint.

(NB: Viewers who don't feel the need for English-subtitled extras are advised that the Japanese release features a superior transfer and a Japanese audio commentary. Like the Criterion, it also includes English subtitles for the film itself.)