Heretofore I've seen only a couple other movies from filmmaker Nagisa Oshima, 1976's 'In the realm of the senses' and 'Max, mon amour' from 1986. Wildly disparate as those two titles are, in the very least they make it clear that Oshima's interests are all over the place, and it seemed clear to me I could never know entirely what to expect. Still I'm surprised by this film, because I don't even rightly know how I could begin to describe it. In the most vague of terms one can say genre labels of "crime" and "drama" are applicable, yet far more than anything else this is flush with arthouse sensibilities of which it's difficult to really make any sense. It's very possible there is cultural context of which I'm totally ignorant that would help to shed some light on the proceedings, but the inclusions are so far flung I have a hard time particularly gleaning what 'Double suicide: Japanese' could earnestly portend.
There are scattered bits and pieces that seem to bear strong potential for film-making and/or storytelling, and are outstanding in and of themselves. The production design, art direction, and filming locations - the primary setting especially - are rich with possibilities. The odd assortment of characters, and fragments of the scenario, come across to me as elements that could be used to tell a fabulously engrossing story. Oshima's shot composition is exceptional, a fast for the eyes, and he orchestrates scenes with a tremendously deft hand. Yasuhiro Yoshioka's cinematography is extraordinarily, unusually dynamic, and superbly refreshing for the fact of it. Moreover, smaller facets like hair and makeup, costume design, props, weapons, and effects are all very well done. Though the ends to which their skills are employed are curious, I believe the cast all give fine performances. All this is well and good.
Yet even the costume design, and those varied characters, are summoned with no readily apparent rhyme or reason. The indistinct story seems to be going one direction at first as it proceeds to bunch itself into an amorphous jumble, then veers in an entirely different direction and remains just as indistinct as it began. Details in the primary setting, and outside of it, seem to change as the length progresses, and also bear no readily evident rhyme or reason. There are glimmers, at times, of a cohesive, unifying vision, themes and ideas to give shape to the whole and provide larger meaning to it all - an oblique treatise on violence, perhaps, on impulses and desires that even the desiring individual may not understand, and on despondent listlessness. Almost never do I read what others have written about a picture, as I feel the viewing experience is and should be in the eye of the beholder, but here I felt it necessary just to try to interpret what Oshima has created. In so doing, I think I'm in the right ballpark, even if I lack the context to fully appreciate it, and I at least partly understand where other cinephiles are coming from with their reactions, seeing 'Double suicide' as a rumination on Japanese society in light of the events of World War II. Yet all such glimmers are small, few, and far between, and it seems to me like the filmmaker deliberately strays so far from conventions of storytelling, or of basic communication of concrete Big Ideas, that even the foundations of the most intelligently penned interpretation seem somewhat flimsy. Or to put it a slightly different way: strong scene writing, and peculiar, wide-ranging dialogue, build a narrative that is complete, but much less than coherent, with overarching notions that are entirely present but surely out of reach for any but the most shrewd and well-read of audiences.
Perhaps my prior experiences with Oshima were the wrong background with which to step into this feature. 'Max, mon amour' and 'In the realm of the senses' are many things, but they also boast discrete, unmistakable plots. In contrast, plot is arguably the least of what this 1967 film represents. I've watched no few other titles in which purely artistic conveyance of stories and ideas was paramount, but still I'm hard-pressed to think of another example that strove so mightily to achieve such an extreme disparity between the normal, firmly cemented, and easily understandable ethos that it fervently rejects, and the abstruse, loosely shaped, and easily confounding ethos that it successfully seeks. It's not enough to say that this is a movie for the most ardent of cinephiles; this is a movie for those who are come prepared with specific knowledge, or who are otherwise prepared to plunge deep and drink heavily of whatever convolutions of substance a filmmaker may present. With all this said, I do like 'Double suicide: Japanese summer,' and I think it's worth watching. It's especially worthwhile for the utter magnificence of Oshima's direction, and the cinematography, and the craftsmanship and intelligence that otherwise went into it. I also find myself wondering if the man's deliberate obfuscation of his intentions didn't go too far, concealing the most earnestly significant value within a cloak of obscurity. Moreover, if a film cannot be so handily understood or appreciated when a viewer is divorced from a select context, is its overall worth diminished? These are questions for every prospective viewer to answer for themselves. By all means, please find this to watch, and do so - but be very aware of what you're getting into, and be prepared to actively engage on a level few features ever do.
