The Face of Another

Okuyama is an engineer whose face was horribly mutilated in a workplace accident. Feeling shunned by society and rejected by his wife, he shamefully hides his disfigurement behind layers of bandages. After consultation, a psychiatrist offers to make Okuyama a realistic prosthetic mask, to return some semblance of normality to his life. Okuyama accepts, despite the shrink's warning that the mask may alter his personality. Meanwhile, a similarly disfigured young nurse from Nagasaki travels to a seaside resort with her brother, where the depth of her disaffection with the uncaring world around her makes itself known in shocking and unexpected ways.

Based on Kobo Abe's novel of the same name, Hiroshi Teshigahara's 'The Face of Another' is a dark, intriguing drama examining notions of identity, appearance and personality, and how the three intersect. Abe's screenplay tackles these themes- as well as that of cultural identity- maturely and with great tact, while also retaining much narrative tension. In fact, if one wished to disregard the psychological and sociological aspects of the story entirely- interpreting the film simply as a horror with a lot of wordy dialogue- one could; and the impact of 'The Face of Another' wouldn't be much diminished.

It is a rewarding experience, however, postulating on the psychological questions raised by Abe's narrative, specifically whether or not one's personality is influenced by one's looks, and the extent to which one's looks informs one's quality of life. It is commonly accepted that physical appearance does have a meaningful impact on people's life experiences and opportunities. Researchers like Daniel Hamermesh posit that the traditionally handsome and beautiful generally have an easier time of things than their less attractive counterparts. At the same time, according to the theory of facultative personality calibration, personalities develop in a way that match other genetic traits, so that one who is more handsome will be more assertive or confident, and vice versa.

'The Face of Another' provokes contemplation around- and plays into- these ideas, as well as examining how Japanese cultural identity was irrevocably altered following WWII and the devastation of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Okuyama's loss of face and adoption of the mask suggests that one's face is not just a physical feature, but a means of communication with society and oneself. By losing this means of communication, Okuyama loses his connection to his original culture and sense of self. So too did the destruction of Nagasaki and Hiroshima alter the face of Japanese society, ensuring that post-war Japan was- in some ways- indistinguishable from pre-war Japan. In this regard, the film suggests that identity- both personal and cultural- is fluid, and heavily influenced by external factors.

The film inspires rumination around these notions, whilst stunning with its visuals. Hiroshi Segawa's cinematography and shot construction is striking and strange, heightening the eerie tone of proceedings. His work, heavy in visual metaphor, lends sequences- such as a breath-taking, multi-masked crowd scene- an odd but undeniable power. Utilizing a wide variety of stylizations- including bizarre zooms, x-rays and jump cuts- he keeps things feeling consistently fresh, innovative and off kilter. This is only compounded by Arata Isozaki and Masao Yamazaki's surrealist art direction, as well as Yoshi Sugihara's assured, experimental editing, which holds everything together masterfully.

One would be remiss not to discuss the score from Toru Takemitsu, which fluctuates between the macabre and the mournful, while always remaining melodic. The main theme- entitled The Waltz- is particularly atmospheric and haunting, reflecting through it's bittersweet melody Okuyama's fragile psychological state. Furthermore, Taichiro Akiyama's sterling efforts crafting all the masks must be mentioned, as there are a great many throughout the picture and each one is spectacularly insidious.

'The Face of Another' boasts a fine cast of actors all doing superlative work. Tatsuya Nakadai stars as Okuyama, bringing both sides of the fellow to life most efficaciously. Suppressing his characteristic charisma, he lays bare the crisis of personality Okuyama faces, creating a most memorable character in the process. Alongside him, Miki Irie showcases a great emotional perspicuity in her role as the disfigured nurse, stealing all the scenes she's in. Additionally, Mikijiro Hira consistently impresses as the psychiatrist and Machiko Kyo delivers a remarkably understated performance as Okuyama's wife- it's a pity she didn't have more screen time to further develop the character.

A sad film in some regards, a tense one in others; Hiroshi Teshigahara's adaptation of Kobo Abe's novel 'The Face of Another' has a lot to offer viewers. Featuring beautiful black and white cinematography from Hiroshi Segawa and a stirring score from Toru Takemitsu- as well as spellbinding art direction and tight editing- there is very little fault one can find with the picture. Powerfully acted and deftly directed throughout, 'The Face of Another' is a macabre, melancholic masterpiece.

movie about self perception and the bond between the mind and the body...soundtrak really set the mood for the increasing horror in the story line. Nakadai downplays his role to give an overall flawless performance. Watch for some really good lines which will undoubtedly force the viewer to start thinking right away which may distract from the plot (but hey, it's an artsy masterpiece right?)...There is a lot of experimentation in the cinematography such as a door which opens and reveals a cluster of hair in ocean tides...this effect serves to foreshadow the action but may in the view of modern audiences comes across as trying TOO hard to be an art film. I left the movie still trying to link the two parallel story lines in the film and you may too...but don't worry you get two stories for the price of one...DO NOT watch this movie in the dark even though there is nothing VISUALLY terrifying it is still a great horror film...

After an industrial accident that leaves his face disfigured for life, Mr. Okuyama (Tatsuya Nakadai)begins to question the meaning of life and his own identity, should he keep working, will his disgusted wife ever sleep with him again. His psychotherapist offers him the chance to avail of an illegal medical practice that he has invented, it's a mask moulded from the face of another, that Okuyama can wear to live life a little more normally. The mask gives him a new lease of life, but his therapist warns him that the mask could take over and influence him to do evil things. As the mask takes control Okuyama can't resist but to give in to his baser instincts, his main plan being, to seduce own wife, that he believes may be cheating on him anyway. With thematic echoes of Franju's Les Yeux sans visage and even Delmer Daves Dark Passage, Teshigahara delivers his expressionistic adaptation of Kôbô Abe's novel with style, the results being a dark and epic tale that will haunt its viewers. Its full of inventive visuals and clever tricks with sound, which along with Tôru Takemitsu's superb score contribute wonderfully to the theme of how fragile identity really is and how the masks we all wear hide our true beings and souls. There's also a secondary story of an unnamed facially deformed girl, who is also struggling to cope with her disfigurements and her tragedy is equally moving.

Mr. Okuyama is involved in an accident at work which melts off his face and this understandably is constantly nagging him. This makes a mark on the relationship with his wife as he talks out at her about how miserable he is and what a monster he has become. He then talks his psychiatrist into making him a new face (which was quite easily done since the psychiatrist has had these kind of thoughts before) and he then goes on 'vacation'.

This is so excellent in every way. It is not a sci-fi movie, but in feel it sometimes comes close to. The images are quite surreal at times, the music is out of this world and some of the sets are not to be found in real life.

The editing is masterfully done, switching between main story and a parallel story about a girl with a similar problem, as well as switching between hand-held camera (not too shaky though), still pictures and still standing camera. The pictures of Segawa Hiroshi fits 35mm nicely, sometimes manipulating the background like I haven't seen before for example when the psychiatrist and Mr. Okayama is talking at the club and the crowd behind get 'invisible' by lighting.

Kyou Machiko did a terrific job in Ozu's 'Ukigusa' and likewise here. Too bad we don't see that much of her. Nakudai Tatsuya plays well as the mask. I don't know exactly what was special effects and not, but it was hard to tell.

Author and writer of screenplay Abe Koubou, director Teshigahara Hiroshi and Takemitsu Touru was behind another favourite of mine; 'Suna no Onna'. They also made 'Moetsukita Chizu' and I cant wait to get my hands on it!!

Teshigahara has never shied away from examining the more unsettling dimensions of human experience. With the trilogy of full-length collaborations with Kobo Abe, Teshigahara encapsulated the Kafkaesque hellishness of quotidian life, the yawning, gaping chasm of emptiness that lies beneath the veneer of stability.

The ubiquitous influence of the French absurdists/existentialists, Kafka and Dostoevsky looms large here- one is reminded most often of Sartre's "No Exit", R.D. Laing's "Knots" and Dostoevsky's "Crime And Punishment". Sartre, Laing and Abe all underline how little autonomy we really have over constituting our own identities- often, we may find that we exist only as beings-for-others, entirely 'encrusted' within personas not of our own making, but assigned to us. For Okuyama and the unnamed scarred woman, they are imprisoned in their vulgar corporeality. Met with revulsion everywhere, they come to accept ugliness as an indelible mark of their being. Trapped within the oppressive confines of flesh, they cannot evade the pity and repugnance that their countenances arouse. It is little wonder that Okuyama becomes self-lacerating and embittered.

Throughout the film, the viewer confronts how precarious identity truly is- the assumption that selves are continuous and linear from day-to-day rests entirely on the visage. The doctor's paroxysm of inspiration in the beer hall affords a glimpse into the anarchic potential of his terrible invention, one that would rend civilization asunder. Indeed, the final epiphany is particularly unnerving- "some masks come off, some don't". We all erect facades, smokescreens of self that we maintain with great effort.

Beneath the epidermis, as Okuyama discovers, is vacuity and nihility. This is likely the explanation for Okuyama's gratuitous, Raskolnikov-esquire acts of crime at the conclusion of the film- faced with the frontierless void of freedom, he desires to be apprehended and branded by society. Integration into society, after all, requires a socially-assigned, unified role, constituted by drivers licenses, serial numbers and criminal records. Without such things, Okuyama is a non-entity.

Aesthetically, the film exhibits all the rigour and poetry of Teshigahara's other work. Cocteau, Ernst and Duchamp, in particular, are notable wellsprings for the film's visual grammar. Literate, expressionistic and profoundly disorienting, this might be my favorite Teshigahara work.