Above all things, the 1950s brought out in cinema, the most important for me was the golden age of Japanese film. One of the greatest pictures from this decade directed by master filmmaker Kenji Mizoguchi was "Sansho the Baliff", which is magnificently powerful and devastating from beginning to end.
I first viewed "Sansho the Baliff" over two years ago when it was newly released on Criterion DVD, it was also the first Mizoguchi film I had ever watched. I was so overwhelmed by the film, but it also left me with despair which caused me not to view it again for over a year. Enough time had passed which made me curious about the film again, so I decided to revisit it, and since then I have watched it two more times. "Sansho the Baliff" does what few films can do and that's put you under its spell. I am enchanted by its beauty, but also by its sadness.
To get things straight before I continue, I don't think the film is a downer of the picture, however it is so full of intense emotion, it's best to be prepared for it. In my first viewing, I was completely knocked over, and wasn't at all anticipating what the film would take from me emotionally. Having seen it now multiple times, I see it now as more of a cathartic film as you're drawn into these characters and their emotions so powerfully, it's hard not to feel what they're going through.
Part of the reason this film has this certain effect has to do with how it deals with a tragic separation between two young children and their parents. The father is a government official who defended the rights of peasants, as a result, he's striped of his title and exiled. His wife, son, and daughter are also left alone in exile as well, but things end up being even more tragic. After putting their trust in a strange peasant woman, the family is tricked and the mother is taken from the children to be sold as a courtesan, the kids meanwhile are sold into slavery.
The head of the manor to which the children are slaves for is the title the character Sansho. Sansho treats his slave without a care for their humanity, they work for him until they can no longer go on, and then are banished to the forest left for dead, and people who are caught trying to escape are branded on the forehead leaving an ever revealing mark.
Ten years go by and the boy who's name is Zushio grows up becoming Sansho's lackey in order to get better treatment, trying to forget the idealistic words his father taught him as a boy. The girl Anju still has hope that some day the two will be reunited with their mother. The mother meanwhile is off on some distant island and is left a cripple after attempting to escape.
Throughout the film, we are reminded of the cruel world these people live in through the words that are said by them, but most prominently through a song that is sung which plays an important part in the plot. It's the world that's hard to take, but it's the idea that the children choose not to become victims of this world, but rather transcend it. Anju in particular is presented as a woman of sacrifice and when she is given the threat of torture, she chooses the only logical conclusion in her mind. Her decision is not only the most famous scene in the film, but one of the all time beautiful moments in all of cinema, I try holding back the tears each time.
It's difficult to discuss a film I still feel like I'm getting to know. I only think in time, it will grow it stature for me. Its director Mizoguchi was truly one of the greats, I have only seen a handful of his films, but those few have resonated deeply within me, he is often regarded with Ozu and Kurosawa as one of the Japanese masters and it's clear to see why with this film.
Japanese cinema is something I have fallen in love with over the years. I started with Kurosawa films, and have branched out from there. There is always meticulous elegance in their compositions, which as I understand stems from their own traditional artwork. I am astonished by small gestures made by the actors such as a slight bowing of the head or kneeling that speak volumes. These movements seem so precise but are never mechanical, there is a perfect stillness to it all, and there is always some quiet reflection to be observed. "Sansho the Baliff" is full of these moments that make it poignant and poetic for the eye, it's moving to see, and transcends the brutal world of its characters into one that is uplifting and heartfelt.
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