Die Zeremonie

It's a mystery to me why Oshima, and especially his movie Ceremony ( although my personal favourite is Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence) doesn't get the recognition he deserves, among the greatest directors. Possibly because, apart for the famous In the realm of the senses, very few have watched his films. Ceremony, in my opinion, is his best film. It is extraordinary how he constructs the narration of this family saga, and how he makes it resonate with thoughts and feelings in every minute of it, putting in shame all of the more applauded asian family stories that became famous movies over the kast decades. But he also surpasses many acclaimed European directors of his time. Ceremony is an undisputed masterpiece that you watch shivering , a proof that cinema can be made out of pure magic!

The Ceremony (1971), directed by Nagisa Ôshima, is a gripping and unsettling exploration of family dynamics, tradition, and the weight of unresolved secrets. The film follows a man who, after receiving a shocking telegram from his cousin, begins to recount his childhood and early life within a family filled with hidden histories. As he reflects, the viewer is slowly introduced to the dark, unsettling rituals and ceremonies that shape the family's interactions, revealing the deep psychological and emotional scars that have been passed down through generations.

Ôshima's direction is both meticulous and daring, using the family ceremonies as a metaphor for the societal structures that confine and suffocate its members. The pacing is deliberate, with long, drawn-out scenes that mirror the suffocating nature of the family's secrets. The film's cinematography is stark and calculated, using a minimalist aesthetic that highlights the emotional and psychological intensity of the narrative. The use of silence and quiet moments adds to the tension, allowing the viewer to feel the weight of the unspoken words and hidden truths.

Kenzô Kawarasaki, Atsuko Kaku, and Atsuo Nakamura deliver compelling performances that capture the complex dynamics of the family. The film's central character is torn between loyalty to his family and the realization that their traditions are built on lies and repression. His journey is one of self-discovery, as he comes to terms with the unsettling truths about his past and the cost of maintaining family unity.

The Ceremony is a film that demands careful attention, as its layered narrative and dense symbolism require deep engagement. The slow, almost ritualistic pacing of the film allows for a gradual buildup of tension, culminating in a haunting exploration of the destructive power of family secrets and the rituals that bind individuals to their past.

With its sharp critique of tradition, psychological complexity, and powerful performances, The Ceremony stands as one of Ôshima's most remarkable works. It's a deeply affecting film that resonates long after it ends, leaving viewers to reflect on the nature of family, identity, and the weight of the past.

Rating: 10/10. A masterful exploration of family, tradition, and psychological complexity, with haunting performances and a profound narrative.

I have seen this film in the late eighties, together with other Oshima's movies and I could collect only a vague impression of exoticism. This before I visited Japan, where I currently live.

I have seen it again last night and I can confirm that "Gishiki" portrays some of the most specific aspects of the Japanese culture. It is a movie deeply ingrained with the rebellion against traditional culture and family, which is typical of the late sixties-early seventies, not only in Japan, but also in Europe. The same can be said of the use of sexuality as a powerful device to offset the established values.

The powerful Sakurada clan is brought to ruin by the same force that keeps it together, the powerful grandfather. This happens in a sequence of rigidly choreographed family reunions, in occasions of funerals and weddings spanning several years following the end of the world. In this sense the world of the Sakuradas is so traditional that many scenes could be set in medieval Japan, with minor modifications in the dialogs and costumes. Ritual suicides and uncompassioned sex are recurring estranging events which follow and precede these ceremonies.

At the end what has been taken away from the protagonist is his very childhood, and hence his possibility to exist as a human being.

Kenzo Kawarasaki returns from Manchuria to Japan; actually, he has no memory of Japan at all. He's part of a noble clan, dominated by his severe grandfather. He falls in love with Akiko Koyama, but it turns out she's his half-sister; his grandfather raped her mother, and grandpa seems to be his actual father. So they yearn, meet at weddings and funerals, and he never does anything, either in getting an heir or accomplishing anything.

But at least he's appropriately miserable. This is, after all, a film by Nagisa Oshima, and all the evils that past generations did must be revealed and punished, even if the innocent are the ones punished.

There's not a hint of compassion here. So why did I think I had seen this before? Then it struck me. Ignoring the war crimes and rapine, this is the plot of THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS, their once mighty wealth brought down through a lack of get-up-and-go. But would ambition have changed anything?

I hardly know where to start in describing this film. The story is told in flashback, as a conversation. From memory, there are about five flashback episodes, the longest covering the wedding of a young man, where the bride fails to show but the wedding proceeds. The young man continues the farce by attempting to have sex with a large pillow which he calls "darling".

The remainder of the film is just as weird, but I found it completely engrossing. Oshima appears to be attacking many aspects of Japanese modern culture with his scalpel-sharp satirical wit.

Not a film for everyone, but highly recommended nevertheless.