The Ceremony

A boy experiences traumas during WWII (which we don't see), and the subsequent 25 years of his life are a continuation of those traumas. Oshima skillfully depicts Japan's post-war evolution, and the ways the dark secrets of the past live on within the present. Gishiki is by no means an enjoyable film: the main character experiences nothing but losses, misfortunes, and humiliations. But this is a dark truth of life: anyone who lives long enough accumulates losses and failures, and for some, perhaps everything else is overtaken. In the end, the main character is left alone with nothing except his lost dreams and his endlessly repeating traumas. A very sad film, but one I'm glad to have seen.

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.

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?

Nagisa Oshima, Japanese cinema's enfant terrible, introduces us to a dangerously nuclear family of alleged war criminals, communists, sex offenders and radical right-wingers, plus a former baseball pitcher and a katana-wielding cop thrown in apparently just for the sheer hell of it. Together, they comprise a mutual aberration society that milks dry the psychic stress and anguish of weddings and funerals. Is their shock-horror behavior offer convincing criticism of postwar Japanese society? Oshima leans into exploitation to score his points, but the net result sometimes smacks of "Mondo Cane" shockumentaries.

Thankfully, there are built-in safety valves when incest, loathing and degradation turn from dark to jet black. That's when some characters break out in honest laughter over their extended family's antics. In any case, it's a fine and foreboding warmup for Oshima's legendary topper, "In the Realm of the Senses."

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.