User reviews

This film was near the end of a wonderful sequence of films made near the end of his life by Mizoguchi. As Tony Raines says in the DVD extra for the Masters of Cinema edition this was a studio project that he was not wholly enthusiastic about. This shows a little in the film as it lacks some of the real flair and emotional power of some of his earlier great films. However, it shares with them his wonderful flowing camera and great cinematography. Its also a terrific story, based originally on a story from the great Japanese 17th Century playwright Monzaemon Chikamatsu (hence the Japanese name, A Tale from Chikamatsu). The screenplay is skillfully worked from the original story, which depends a lot of some pretty unlikely coincidences.

The film has a great cast, although the lead actor (and major star at the time) Kazuo Hazegawa is a little old for the role of the shy lover. Kyoko Kagawa is great as the wife of a powerful merchant who is mistakenly accused of having an affair with her servant, but then falls in love with him as they both go on the run.

As you'd expect from a Mizoguchi film, technically it is flawless, with lovely sets and some beautiful camera work. The Masters of Cinema version on DVD is a beautiful restoration. For Mizoguchi fans, this film is well worth getting, but for those who haven't seen many of his films it would be better to start with some of his earlier masterpieces.

Set in 17th century Japan, and based on a 1715 play by Chikamatsu Monzaemon (hence the title, 'A Story From Chikamatsu'), this film starts with a rich scroll-maker (Eitarō Shindō) refusing to give his wife (Kyōko Kagawa) money. When she turns to one of his top apprentices (Kazuo Hasegawa), she sets in motion of a chain of events that ultimately have them fleeing together, because the apprentice, normally a virtuous man, intended to take the money from the scroll-maker and was caught.

The story reveals emotion and desire that is both on the surface, such as the scroll-maker sexually harassing a young servant (Yōko Minamida), as well as that which is concealed. It shows us the randomness of events which may cause everything to suddenly change in one's life; as the wife puts it at one point, "Nothing is more unpredictable than a person's fate. In just one day, all of this has happened to us." If you've ever had your life flip suddenly because of love, you'll identify.

The film also shows the all-too-common fate of women; the advice given to the young servant being harassed is to "Just take it. That's the duty of an employee." Adultery is also blamed first and foremost on the women ("It's frightening what women are capable of"), and it's ominous when a couple of adulterers are being led through the town to be crucified early on in the film.

It's a solid film throughout – the cast is strong, the story is well told, and there are some gorgeous scenes, one of which is in a bamboo forest. I don't think it's going to blow you away, but it's a good one.

I think this makes it official: no major filmmaker ever utilized lakes as well as did Kenji Mizoguchi. Between the canoe chase in Sansho the Bailiff and the suicide attempt seen in this film, it can safely be said that the Japanese director was the cinematic master of lake imagery.

The images here, by Mizoguchi and DP Kazuo Miyagawa, who also lensed many of Kurosawa's most iconic films, are consistently gorgeous. More than that, though, Chikamatsu is, I think, the most perfect encapsulation of Mizoguchi's central theme: the self-annihilating ecstasy that comes with turning one's back on an unjust social order.

Perhaps "encapsulate" is a particularly good word to use because one of the reasons the themes are so brazen is that Mizoguchi is here working on a far smaller canvas than he usually allows himself. This film is quite short by the director's standards, and deals with a smaller number of characters. Perhaps because of its less epic scope I would rank it just below the previously mentioned Sansho the Bailiff as my favorite film by this great director.

"Chikamatsu Monogatari" , (aka "The Crucified Lovers"), is one Mizoguchi's lesser known works and yet it is no less extraordinary for all that. It is, of course, typical of its director; another tragic tale of corrupted innocence and the terrible hand fate plays in people's lives, in this case a wrongful accusation of adultery over a very simple misunderstanding. Shakespeare could have written this.

It's set in the 17th century and it paints as relentless a picture of cruelty and hypocrisy as Mizoguchi has given us and he shoots it almost in semi-darkness, (even the exteriors take place at night or are shrouded in mist or in shadow), so there is no escape for its protagonists nor for us; the inevitability of the lovers' fate is clearly signposted from the beginning.

As the couple forced to acknowledge their love for each other by unfolding events Kazuo Hasegawa and Kyoko Kagawa are superb, particularly Kagawa whose performance as the wronged wife is a masterclass in subtlety and tenderness. This is surely one of the key films in all of Japanese cinema.

This is adapted from a work by Chikamatsu Monzaemon, one of the defining writers from the early Tokugawa era. His name often reaches us in the contours of a Japanese Shakespeare and as usually with these Western imports to explain Eastern art, it is mostly a lazy comparison. Unlike Shakespeare who continues to inspire a steady flow of film, Chikamatsu's name has been largely neglected however; there is this, and films by Uchida, Shinoda, and Yasuzo Masumura, 'shunji'/double-suicide stories that were Chikamatsu's forte, each enlivened in its own way by the intensity of vibrant artifice and a story of forbidden passions cleansed by death.

So film-wise, the heart of these things has been extrapolated from where centuries of concentrated practice refined them, in the stages of kabuki or bunraku, both of which featured elaborate contraptions for generating illusions. The stage having been set, it was all a matter of achieving a cinematic mobility around it. Shinoda made the most clever simple use of that stage in Double Suicide; he was essentially filming what domestic audiences had enjoyed for centuries on the stage of bunraku as part of unbroken tradition, but trusting our eye to be naturally dislocated the right distance to absorb this as a puzzling modernity.

It is not unlike what has happened with Mizoguchi; a visual purity from tradition dislocated, thus obscured, through Western interpretations.

But let's backtrack a little. We know that Chikamatsu abandoned kabuki for the puppet theater of bunraku, an author's theater, with pliable actors held on strings and the gods that move the world made visible. There he worked in favour of better integrated audience manipulation, in favour of an idealized realism sprung from the author's mind.

So here we have a film about a scroll-maker, himself an artist charged with cultivating idealized images, fighting against the idealized reality he has helped cultivate in a quest for the true love he had all his life sublimated into perfect service.

It is very similar to Oharu in this way; the film structured around the tension that rises from characters performing idealized roles and the tortured heart that gives rise to them. There is a master printer who cultivates the image of the noble benefactor but who is a cruel deceiving scumbag. Nobles who act magnanimous in the open but then use their position to barter for money. The rival printer who feigns congratulations or compassion but who is secretly plotting for the imperial position.

So this idealized world that Chikamatsu advocated and in a small part helped cultivate, Mizoguchi posits to be a system of organized oppression with victims its own characters.

But it is in thrusting through this world of idealized, thus largely fictional appearances, that the two lovers can finally realize feelings that were socially prohibited. In this fictional world true beauty, a love fou, is realized by shedding the artificial. As it turns out, the two of them become the couple they were groomed to be.

As usual with Mizoguchi, the narrative on the surface level is never less than obvious. It is clean, disarmingly earnest. It seems like the film does not demand anything of us. But beneath the controlled histrionics, there is a heart of images that beats with abstract beauty.

The final image is of the two lovers publicly declaring love by simply standing together. It is again clean but resonates outsid the narrative. Their fate is sealed, but the image no longer cultivated but naturally arisen now has the chance to blossom across the audience of curious onlookers. It is an image with the power to inspire change.

Mizoguchi is not a filmmaker I can deem personal. But he's a remarkable study just the same.

The only print of CHIKAMATUS MONOGATARI I've been able to find was abysmal - I almost couldn't watch it. Which is a shame as this is among the greatest Mizoguchi films. The story - which I believe had been done before and since by other Japanese directors - is a bit straighter than my favorite Mizoguchi films (SANSHO THE BAILIFF and UGETSU MONOGATARI), and is essentially a tale of tragic romance, in this case a transgressive romance that crosses strict class boundaries. As always with Mizoguchi, there is an exquisitely expressed tone of defiance, and - bad print aside - I was very pleased. As with all of Mizoguchi's films, I'm eagerly awaiting a restored DVD release - whenever that may come...

The Crucified Lovers (a better title than Story of Chikamatsu) is a slow to build but nearly perfectly directed tragedy that shows what how much the society around them, all those busy body workers who have been shaped by the times and attitudes and value of "property," that it would be something of a miracle for the "happy" ending (which means... what). Hasegawa and Kagawa give two of the most anguished, intense harrowing performances of any Japaneze film of the 1950s (Shindo also plays a relentlessly feckless jerk very convincingly), and that's a statement to make given the golden age of Japanese cinema in the decade (with 1954 being maybe its crowning year).

Even knowing that Mizoguchi made similar films at that same period, it's like he can't help himself to direct the tortured melodrama to such a degree that you wouldn't be far off from thinking the fire from the story wouldn't catch on in the theater or room you're watching. And there are individual shots and passages - the doomed couple in the little boat on the fog-strewn water where Kagawa decides she does want to live because of her love, or when the couple finally embrace on that country road - that can haunt you if you're open to it.

By the time you get to that ending... my goodndss, that hits like a brick to the face - not because of the Doom for the lovers, but rather that it is this 'serenely look as someone observes on Mohei. They may be lost in the eyes of theirs society, but they have a love stronger than most others in their world.

This is certainly a good film, beautifully photographed and evocatively acted. Yet one should certainly criticize it, and Mizoguchi, for it is not without flaws and weaknesses. Mizoguchi really cared for women, and wanted to make statements on man's lack of sympathy and total cruelty, yet he sometimes gets ahead of himself in trying to make this statement by adopting the wrong means. This is certainly a case in 'the Crucified Lovers', 'Princess Yang Kwei Fei' and 'Zankiku monogatari'. He sets the scenario in feudal Japan, which leaves the viewer at the end with the partially right exclamation: "boy, does feudalism suck, I'm glad that it is over...". And true, some of the scenarios such weaker films of Mizoguchi present would be literary impossible today. Also, his women characters sometimes become archetypes of unrealistic self-sacrifice, which also simplifies the scenario less appealing. Saying that, "Crucified Lovers" is a good film, with such few relative weaknesses, though the sometimes chilly, cynical prose by Ueda, the screenwriter helps this film allot. I still highly prefer and recommend Mizoguchi's 'realistic, 'contemprary' films of 1936: 'Osaka Elegy' and 'Sisters of the Gion', as well as his late masterpieces, in which he showed more restraint and subtlety: 'Ugetsu', 'Sansho Dayu', and 'The Life of Oharu'.

Especially coming from the same man who gave us 'Sansho the bailiff,' within the same year at that, it shouldn't be too terribly surprising that a film with the alternate name of 'The crucified lovers' should be terribly depressing. Nor should it be surprising that a tale about the laws, cultural mores, and rigid power structures of feudal Japan, and that moreover centers these facets instead of just playing within their boundaries, should be both terribly depressing and outright infuriating, not least as the notions herein remain all too relevant to modern life. Like the false veneer of symbols and codes of honor in the Edo period in Kobayashi Masaki's 'Harakiri,' or Kobayashi's emphatic scrutiny in 'Samurai rebellion' of the absolute, unyielding authority of lords and the lowly status and poor treatment of women, this 1954 jidaigeki very similarly zeroes in on the oppression of an era that is often heavily romanticized not just in Japanese cinema but in popular culture elsewhere around the world. With distinctions between "lords" and "employers" mostly just being a question of hierarchy, obeisance to the every whim and demand of the wealthy and powerful is a matter of life and death, and those with any measure of status can act with total impunity so long as no one above them calls them on it; women are wholly subject to the whims of men, and are castigated for the same behaviors that men freely commit; a society that lives within the deathgrip of such repression is quick to surrender all will, and gladly betray family, friend, and neighbor alike, and effectively obey before any commands are given, no matter how unreasonable the situation that presents.

Of course, there is a discrete narrative in 'A story from Chikamatsu,' and after first thoroughly laying the foundation with the setting and its precepts, that narrative picks up with increasing tension and outrigiht ferocity heading into the second act as principal figures, all suffering under the temperament of scroll master Ishun, have the veil lifted from their eyes. It's not just a subjective matter of perceiving the storytelling, either: Miyagawa Kazuo's crisp, vivid cinematography becomes far more rich and dynamic; the original music of Hayasaka Fumio and Mochizuki Tamezo, of which we were given a stupendous first taste over the opening credits, stirs to life with a stark vibrancy echoing the now swift and fierce movement of the plot development. The scene writing, dialogue, and characterizations intensify alongside the story, and likewise the acting that realizes it all. With the extreme, regressive doctrines and "morality" of the era remaining foremost, intrigue mounts and events escalate until some inevitable, dreadful conclusion of one stripe or another. All the while, esteemed filmmaker Mizoguchi Kenji sustains a low-key tone that allows the proceedings to speak entirely for themselves, a tenor that's broken only subtly through the progression of the saga in and of itself; a tad more concretely through the gradual build of the score and slight variations in the cinematography and direction; and primarily through the performances of range, spirit, and emotional depth that pointedly bring the drama to bear as the characters living in such times, and facing the full weight of the arbitrary and unjust law, try to endure.

It's a harsh, sordid, gripping, and all too despairingly real and lastingly meaningful picture that Mizoguchi gives us as Yoda Yoshikata and Kawaguchi Matsutaro adapt Chikamatsu Monzaemon's play. That this is a period piece, with all the exquisite craftsmanship we are accustomed to from the filmmaker and his contemporaries, hardly escapes our attention but nevertheless is at most a secondary thought as the viewing experience is so incredibly absorbing. The filming locations are gorgeous, and the sets no less beautiful in their detail. The costume design, hair, and makeup are in their own way equally resplendent with the attention that went into them; the image and audio quality are both utterly impeccable. Even Sugawara Kanji's editing is notably keen. And still it is the plot, and all those elements that very specifically feed into it or serve its execution, that are most striking and captivating. Still the sum total - highly engaging, deeply compelling, completely spellbinding, and marvelously satisfying as a work of fiction with strident, crucial themes - is actively vexing, troubling and distressing for the major injustice that runs rampant throughout as Mizoguchi turns an unflinching, critical eye to the Edo period, and to any society that would operate in a like fashion. With ideas and beats that are all too horribly relevant even centuries after that time when this movie is set, the result is a masterpiece, and a tour de force, and I cannot recommend it highly or heartily enough, nor urgently enough. Some moments are particularly brilliant, including not least the final scene that hits unexpectedly hard. Yes, one must be well aware of the dispiriting nature of the feature, but provided that is no singular obstacle to one's appreciation of the medium, as far as I'm concerned 'A story from Chikamatsu' is a stellar if difficult gem that demands viewership.

I saw this over 20 years ago and I remember it well. Superb photography. Great acting by the 2 leads. How things were different in that era compared to today in Japan. This is probably very hard to find on video if it exists at all. But you may see it in art houses like I did. Another Mizoguchi classic. If you like his work, I recommend The Human Condition, the greatest film ever made.

After Mohei (Kazuo Hasegawa), an apprentice to a master scroll maker (Eitaro Shindo), commits forgery to help the family of Osan (Kyoko Kagawa), his greedy and heartless boss's beautiful young wife, hypocrisy, coincidence and cruelty brand the young couple as adulterers, a crime punished by public disgrace (both to the accused and to their families) and ultimately death by crucifixion. Kenji Mizoguchi's sad tale, which is based on an Shotoku-era play by Monzaemon Chikamatsu (hence the title, the film is also known as 'The Crucified Lovers'), is slow moving but beautifully filmed and poignant without drifting into the maudlin. Watched as a Criterion DVD with English subtitles.

Chikamatsu Monogatari / The Crucified Lovers (1954) :

Mizoguchi's Love-birds set against Strict Japanese Traditions and Laws. The Crucified Lovers by Kenji Mizoguchi is in other words, a Romeo-Juliet or should I say Laila-Majnu tale set in Japanese Ghetto. You know the love stories are always common looking except for some brilliant classics but i personally feel that these cultural and traditional effects make them look uncommon, no matter which particular country and which particular culture it is. The Crucified Lovers is a very predictable story (one can even guess it from the title only) helmed effectively by the director. Ishun is a wealthy, but unsympathetic, master printer who has wrongly accused his wife and best employee of being lovers. To escape punishment, the accused run away together but later begin a true affair only to face worst results. Kazuo Hasegawa as Mohie, Kyoko Kagawa as Osan and Eitaro Shindo as Ishun stand as the best performers in the film. I don't know much about Japanese Culture so i won't be able to tell the details of their characterisations but as normal characters they looked convincing. There are couple of things in the film which could have been shown better, execution and elaboration both wise such as predictability of the Love affair and thier decisions. After the first half, it all goes very typical like it used to go with the love stories made in silent era i.e 1920s but that's where the regional touch comes to drive the ship steadily. Like some people have said it, i agree that this one is not upto the standard of other classics of Kenji Mizoguchi but if you think otherwise, it's a great film already. We have seen many heart-breaking love stories over the years so there is no doubt that The Crucified Lovers should become a part of those as it certainly makes enough impact to get the place in that list.

RATING - 7/10*

By - #samthebestest.

"Chikamatsu Monogatari" (Crucified Lovers) (Japanese, 1954): Set in 17th century Japan, a series of honorable gestures begins to go terribly wrong, and takes victims with them. Did you know that adulterers at that time were crucified in Japan? This and many more traditions of the Old Way were up for reexamination by the Japanese culture soon after their defeat in World War II. This must have been a time of great doubt for them – after all, wasn't it their past that lead them to their current condition? "Chikamatsu Monogatari" is an elegant, methodical story with tragic twists and turns that never the less head straight into inflexible Fate.

I never heard of Mizoguchi's "Chikamatsu monogatari" before until a friend of mine who loves Mizoguchi's films showed it to me recently. It is a beautiful, haunting, and emotionally involving study of forbidden love between a rigid merchant's wife, Osan, and her devoted servant, Mohei, in 17th century Kyoto. The lovers are unfairly punished for having an affair; Osan escapes her husband's home while Mohei is forced into exile. "Chikamatsu" is a highly charged work, but I'm not entirely sure if I would call it a masterpiece on par with "Zangiku monogatari", "The Life of Oharu", "Ugetsu", "Sansho dayu", and "Princess Yang Kwei Fei" - Mizoguchi's richest and most beautiful films. The photography is extraordinarily ravishing and evocative, with Mizoguchi's masterful fluid camera. Also, the sound quality of "Chikamatsu" is interestingly rich and astounding, but the film doesn't stay with you for a while like those aforementioned films. Overall, this is a minor Mizoguchi: beautiful and haunting at times, but inferior to his renowned masterpieces.

Some time ago, I had the opportunity to attend an Ichibana lecture and demonstration. It was given by those close to emperor and was tailored for westerners. That meant that there were plenty slides that contrasted western flower arranging with this highest Japanese art. The western values all had to do with perfect symmetry, balance, coherent, simple shapes. Each element should be beautiful by itself. Harmonies were all within this lovely melody of perfect pace. Bach.

Contrasted with this was the Ichibana we saw constructed before us. Dissymmetries, tension, motion and peace. Some elements were dead, even damaged. The base or container was as likely to be misshapen, even ugly. Where the western arrangements were music, this was life. It had soul, katachi. The whole thing was quite an experience for me and was my most visceral introduction to a corner of Japan that I have since enfolded into my own life and eye. At the root of this is dissymmetry (which is different from asymmetry), the presence of items that have sibling states which are not expressed. It gives a tension that springs, the pumps blood and makes real beauty because it provides space for the definition of beauty.

This is one of the reasons I appreciate Kurosawa. He understood this, and is why I eagerly watch recommended Japanese films. And why I came to this. Surely Mizoguchi is one of the most celebrated Japanese filmmakers. But what I'm experiencing with him lacks that katachi, that clean, beauty of tension I wished for. What I see is comparatively western. Oh, the story is traditionally Japanese, and the manner of the story. But everything cinematic is perfectly constructed, balanced. Every frame is a masterpiece of construction, and in three dimensions. Its geometric, its rich, its balanced, every vision. Every bit is lovely, every motion perfect, every jot complemented.

Its not Ichibana. Its too pretty to be beautiful. Its too Methodist.

Ted's Evaluation -- 2 of 3: Has some interesting elements.

The Storyline and the description below the title don't seem to be the same movie, even if they are for the same movie.