A scarcity on video in any form, Kadokawa will release Teinosuke Kinugasa's Gate of Hell (地獄門, Jigokumon) (1953) on April 13th in a restored version. Winner of the Palme d'Or at the 1954 Cannes Film Festival, and an Academy Honorary Award for "Best Foreign Language Film first released in the United States during 1954" (pre-dating the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film).
OUT of Japan has come another weird and exquisite film—this one in color of a richness and harmony that matches that of any film we've ever seen. It is a somber and beautiful presentation of a thirteenth century legendary tale, smoothly and awesomely unfolding behind the volcanic title, "Gate of Hell." Under the sponsorship of the Japan Society, it opened last night at the Guild.
It is hard to convey in simple language the moving qualities of this lovely film, which, among other things, was the winner of the grand prize at the Cannes film festival last spring. The secret, perhaps, of its rare excitement is the subtlety with which it blends a subterranean flood of hot emotions with the most magnificent flow of surface serenity. The tensions and agonies of violent passions are made to seethe behind a splendid silken screen of stern formality, dignity, self-discipline and sublime esthetic harmonies. The very essence of ancient Japanese culture is rendered a tangible stimulant in this film.
The story itself is quite simple—neither so complex nor abstruse as the stories of "Rashomon" and "Ugetsu," recent imports from post-war Japan. It is the story of a thirteenth century warrior—a handsome and proud samurai—who falls in love with a dainty Japanese lady whom he aids and saves during a palace revolt and later requests in marriage, only to learn that she already is wed. Burning with a mad desire for her, he besieges her in her happy married state and causes her such shame and sorrow that she commits suicide.
It is simple, and yet the strain and anguish that develop as the story moves on, out of the violence and turbulence of the initial insurrection into a consideration of the turbulence that occurs amid seemingly peaceful surroundings in a man's and a woman's hearts—are as gripping and full of silent terror as they might be in a more elaborate plot. The individual frustration that a social form imposes is the gist of its timeless tragedy.
How Teinosuke Kinugasa, who wrote the screen play and directed this film, has achieved such extrordinary emotional impact is a matter of true wizardry. His use of color (Eastman) as applied to the Japanese scene, with such economy in his composition and such texture and color subtleties in his materials, is on a level that renders it comparable to the best in Japanese art. And his use of music and physical movements has a weird eloquence and grace that are profound.
One could rhapsodize for a whole column on the beauty and excitement of individual scenes—a shot of a coral-colored temple ranked with white-kimoned priests by a blue sea; a sequence re-enacting a horse race, full of feudal pomp and panoply; a truly bewitching vision of a pale lady in a blossom-pink robe twanging the strings of a strange musical instrument in a quiet Japanese home.
And one could write reams of lush enthusiasm for the porcelain beauty and electrifying grace of Machiko Kyo, the lady of "Rashomon" and "Ugetsu," who is the heroine here. For it is she, with her great power of suggestion with a minimum of gesture and a maximum use of the tiny mouth and eyes, who conveys the sense of sadness and despair that suffuses this film.
Kazuo Hasegawa as the proud and insistent samurai is powerful, too, in his vigorous, vain formality, and Isao Yamagata is quietly compelling as the dignified husband of the harassed heroine.
There is much to be got from this picture—much to savor and deeply enjoy. English subtitles, which oddly glisten, carry the sense of the dialogue.
At last night's opening of "Gate of Hell" Jun Tsuchiya, Consul General of Japan, spoke of the impact of films from his country on the Western world.
"The successful entree of Japanese films in the world market," Mr. Tsuchiya said, "may well have not only cultural, but also, I venture to suggest, economic consequences for both our countries. . . . To me, it is entirely conceivable that the export of superior films will greatly help my country in its present unremitting struggle to become self-sufficient, to rely on trade, not aid."
The Consul General stated he expected the export of such films would stimulate tours and travel to Japan. "Both of these results," he said, "must promote the economic health of Japan and make for sounder trade relations between Japan and the U. S. A. . . . We will continue to strive side-by-side with the United States for human betterment and freedom in Asia."
Hmm, I've read about this film. The reason it is so scarce is that it was photographed with Eastmancolor film stock and the prints were so faded that the beauty of the film had essentially disappeared. A restoration is certainly good news.
I read that Crowther review years ago and have had this film on my radar for a long time. It won the Palme d'Ore and the Best Foreign Film Oscar back in 54, so you'd think there would be a proper transfer of it available by now. Sadly, as far as I know, the only version with English subtitles available is the VHS which is a very poor, washed-out transfer. I really hope an English translated BD becomes available some day, but I have doubts that it ever will. At least this is a step in the right direction.
I hope this is being licensed for the U.S. with English subs by someone. I saw the "washed-out" version on VHS and even *that* was gorgeous. The idea of a restored version of this film is pulse-quickening to be sure.
Of all the films in the Criterion Collection, this would benefit most from a 4k release. It has the most incredible colors- perhaps the most beautiful use of technicolor ever.