The First time I made a film in color... I imposed a small taboo on myself internally. It was to never shoot the color green.
Nagisa Oshima is generally regarded as the most important Japanese film director after Kurosawa and is one of Japan's most productive and celebrated postwar artists. His early films represent the Japanese New Wave at its zenith, and the films he has made since (including In the Realm of the Senses and Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence) have won international acclaim. The more than 40 writings that make up this intellectual autobiography reveal a rare conjunction of personal candor and political commitment. Entertaining, concise, disarmingingly insightful, they trace in vivid and carefully articulated detail the development of 0shima's theory and practice.
The writings are arranged in chronological order and cover the period from the mid-1950s to the late 1970s. Following a historical overview of contemporary Japanese cinema, a substantial section articulates the theoretical and political rationale of 0shima's own film production, which he sees as being profoundly influenced by the social formation and political processes of postwar Japan. Among many other topics considered in his essays, Oshima questions the economics of film production, the ethics of the documentary film, censorship (both political and sexual), and the relation of aesthetics and social taboos. A filmography and notes round out this important collection.
When I was living in Japan in 1989/1990 I was kind of shocked to see the film rebel on Japanese TV as someone advising housewives on their love affairs, and on other mainstream talk shows. It seems like he became a professional TV guest. Sort of reminds me of Orson Welles during the 70's when he just showed up on talk shows to chat ... for no purpose.
But Oshima is very much an original and fascinating film maker. Almost on the side of the Avant-Garde but still on the side of the narrative film. This book is a collection of essays about the nature of film and his own work in that field as well. This is a beautifully designed (very important to me!) collection of essays. Oshima is a very good and clear thinking writer.
As an historical document, this is an important set of essays. It did demonstrate to me that Oshima's suspicion of film theorists is unfounded, and he would have benefitted from a more rigorous and sustained engagement with theoretical discussions. Perhaps this would have allowed him to understand the concepts of shame or political commitment with greater nuance. Oshima does baldly state that he believes crime arises from men being unable to satisfy their desires, thus justifying serial sexual crimes. It's not a very convincing argument. At other moments, Oshima reads like a discount Sartre, proclaiming the necessity for man to understand his situation. I believe with hindsight readers of these essays can understand Oshima's situation better than he did.
“History’s last judgement will be a court of love that embraces not only the human species but all living things. I believe that when this final judgment comes—as it one day will—it will seat us on clouds of light, crown us with flowers, and lead to the heights of heaven.”
Nagisa Oshima’s spirit is one that I carry with me in my work. Aside from directing one of history’s most beautiful films, “In the Realm of the Senses,” it’s his defiance against censorship and oppression and how that translates to the medium of cinema that I wish to aspire to.
People today frequently speak about freedom or liberation, but what does that look like? This notion is often tied to a position that remains in the imaginary. However, for Oshima, it is a mindset that locates oneself structurally, from which other actions follow.
In this collection of writings, Oshima describes his experiences of defiance, from the filmmaking process to the courtroom, standing his ground despite everything.
Two things stuck with me: the question of obscenity and the reflections on Mishima Yukio. As we watch the world replicate itself with a horrifyingly repetitive nature to the 1930s, we find an exciting parallax in the questions of sex, power and fascism. It is all too often on the question of sexuality that we return to the tiresome Western dichotomy of Victorian prudence against the cliches of libertine hippies that cannot escape neoliberalism’s model of consumption. The lens of Oshima, I suggest, offers a parallax view that is worthy of our study.
As a film maker, Oshima is very much in control. In his first color film, as he mentions in an essay in this volume, he banishes the color green, so that the viewer can never rest her eyes.
As a writer, Oshima often bats you around like a ball of yarn, which can provide a thrill, and then drops you off somewhere when he tires of it. This is unfair, I guess, since he's also working within the meandering mode of a great essay tradition. Still: look to this volume as an entry point to some of Oshima's (often very fascinating) brainstorms. Then watch "Death By Hanging."