Daiei Gothic (1959 & 1968) Three Chillingly Beautiful Tales of the Supernatural from Japan

Long before Britain made a subgenre of its folk traditions, Japan was mining its history (with the help of Greek-Irish author Lafcadio Hearn) to create chillingly beautiful tales of the supernatural. Three tales loom large for their influence: The Ghost of Yotsuya (Yotsuya Kaidan), The Snow Woman (Yuki-Onna) and The Peony Lantern (Botan Doro).  Radiance’s latest set (Daiei Gothic) presents three lesser-known adaptations of these tales produced by the same studio; Daiei, a company known as much for their prestige pictures by Kurosawa and Mizoguchi as their flying turtle Gamera. All three are in luxurious colour, beautifully restored to make their hues sing with all the force of Hammer Horror.

The first in the set is Kenji Misumi’s adaptation of Yotsuya Kaidan (1959), a film overshadowed by Shintoho’s version of the story from the same year. Both have the same basic story- Iemon, a poor rõnin, finds himself courted by the wealthy and beautiful Oume but is already married to Oiwa, a young woman of little money. Deciding to climb the ladder, he and his new beloved’s family scheme to get rid of her. But of course, ghostly revenge will have its way.

Where Nobuo Nakagawa’s film aims for hallucinogenic horror, Misumi (known for his Lone Wolf and Cub series) focuses on psychology. Iemon is still a wastrel swordsman who treats his wife with contempt, but enough time is spent detailing his dire financial situation that his abhorrent behaviour (including poisoning his wife), makes some sort of sense. He’s a far sight from Nakagawa or Miike’s heartless sociopath, instead becoming a man desperate to snatch a little happiness from a system that has humiliated him. This depth is in no small part thanks to Kazuo Hasegawa’s fantastic lead performance. Better known for his roles in Ichikawa’s An Actor’s Revenge, his expressionless face perfectly captures Iemon’s quiet resignation at the indignities he suffers, right down to being mocked for not providing an appropriately expensive pot of sake. His is a proud demeanour in the face of indignity, and that pride is his undoing. While I may prefer the demented intensity of Nakagawa’s interpretation, Misumi’s film provides a complexity of motivation often lacking from such ghost stories of revenge.

The collection then jumps some ten years forward for The Snow Woman (1968), a feature length adaptation of a story that also appears in Kobayashi’s Kwaidan. This is the highpoint of the box-set, a beautifully paced film that, at only 77 minutes, packs real heart and an incredibly tender ending. Here, young sculptor Yosaku finds himself stranded in a snowstorm with his old master, who is killed by the titular spirit. Taking pity on him, the Snow Woman spares his life in return for never mentioning he encountered her; if he does, she will return and kill him. He meets the beautiful Yuki (whose name literally means snow…) and marries her soon after, but then the past begins to catch up with him.

Following the same Hearn interpretation of the folktale, director Tokuzō Tanaka and screenwriter Fuji Yahiro flesh out the tale with a subplot about a competition to create the new statue of a Buddha for the temple. It adds an interesting reflection on the nature of suffering and the sacrifices one makes for love; Yosaku obsesses over finding the perfect face of compassion for his statue while Yuki, his long-suffering wife, exhausts herself by healing a nobleman’s child in the hopes of ensuring her husband receives fair treatment in the competition. Everything Yuki does goes beyond the boundaries of reasonable compassion, yet Yosaku is unaware of it until it is too late. The Kadokawa 4K restoration does the cinematography incredible justice, really bringing out the luminous white of both the snow and Yuki/The Snow Woman’s ghostly appearance. Her yellow contacts, flicking left to right like a cornered cat, are especially memorable in the widescreen photography. Kwaidan is the famous adaptation, yes, but it’s borderline criminal how this has been forgotten.

The final film in the collection finds Daiei mining a folktale almost as popular as Yotsuya Kaidan for The Bride from Hades (1968). It tells of young teacher Shinzaburo, who finds himself falling for Otsuyu, a mysterious courtesan during the Obon festival, a three-day event where spirits of the deceased are supposed to return to their ancestral shrines. Only this courtesan and her maid aren’t human. They are ghosts, unable to rest after the tragedies they’ve faced. But with the love of Shinzaburo, Otsuyu may be able to come to rest.

Versions of this ghostly duo, forever roaming the night in search of a man for the younger to to love, have been found in classics like Ugetsu and Kuroneko, but Satsuo Yamamoto’s film is perhaps the most straightforward adaptation of the tale that exists. Unlike The Snow Woman, our male lead is aware of his lover’s real identity from around the halfway point, a difference that marks out his great compassion. A consummate idealist, he spurns the political marriage his family demands, instead choosing to teach poor children in the town. He is deeply moved by Otsuyu’s plight even before he’s aware of her identity and is willing to sacrifice himself to bring her peace when he does find out. Their selfless relationship is contrasted with the greed of his servant and wife, who will do anything for a quick buck, even selling out his master. Shinzaburo ultimately is the man of the set you feel most for, for at least he wishes to help the women in his life, not merely take them for granted. Bride… is also the creepiest film in the set, in no small part thanks to the wonderful effects, especially the glowing bones beneath Otsuyu’s skin during the love scenes. Another tragically forgotten piece of supernatural horror.

All three films in this Daiei Gothic Set are accompanied by excellent subtitles and crystal-clear picture quality, supplemented with a generous helping of extras. These include stories by Hearn and an interview with Kiyoshi Kurosawa on The Ghost of Yotsuya. All of this combines to make this another superb offering by Radiance.

Ethan’s Archive – Daiei Gothic