Shogun-era Japan, 1865: As the samurai tradition wanes, teenaged Sozaburo Kano already has proven himself in battle. At a compound in Kyoto he is being trained in swordfighting. When the camera takes its first good look at him, one is taken aback. Isn’t that a girl? No; but with his seductive “long locks” Kano is very, very pretty. Classmate Hyozo Tashiro, whose mattress is next to his in the shared sleeping quarters, is among those immediately attracted to Kano. He cannot resist making sexual overtures, but that night Kano warns Tashiro away from his bed with a knife. Meanwhile, leaders of the compound also are drawn to Kano, whose awareness of the heady effect he has on fellow boys and men invests his callowness with calculation. One perhaps should add that even today in Japan, though Tokyo is inundated with gay bars, the subject of homosexuality isn’t openly discussed.
Based on two novellas by Ryotaro Shiba, Nagisa Oshima’s Gohatto is formally cool, dreamily sensual and wickedly satirical—somehow, all at once. It takes over one’s breathing for a while. Kano clings to his looks for security as he pursues a male authority figure for a more solid sense of identity. Elements of Herman Melville’s Billy Budd (including the homoeroticism) drift in and out of the narrative, while material things and rituals suggest a symbolical landscape: swords; dueling masks; the ceremonial presentation of a decapitated head. Kano dresses in white. “Have you ever made love?” Tashiro asks him on the heels of asking him if he has killed a man. But whiteness—another reference to Melville?—means something else in Japan; it is the “color” of mourning.
Kano is driven to prove himself. Meanwhile, Oshima is fascinated by the structure of a social taboo. Oshima seems to feel that an object of taboo, such as homosexuality (or the mere discussion of it), is attached to the idea of taboo in order to give that idea credibility and life. In turn, the idea brings order and structure to society as a whole, but sacrifices the individual, who is destroyed no matter what choice he or she makes: to honor the taboo by choosing repression; to disobey the taboo, bringing upon oneself society’s outrage and punishment.
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TABOO (Nagisa Oshima, 1999)
By grunesShogun-era Japan, 1865: As the samurai tradition wanes, teenaged Sozaburo Kano already has proven himself in battle. At a compound in Kyoto he is being trained in swordfighting. When the camera takes its first good look at him, one is taken aback. Isn’t that a girl? No; but with his seductive “long locks” Kano is very, very pretty. Classmate Hyozo Tashiro, whose mattress is next to his in the shared sleeping quarters, is among those immediately attracted to Kano. He cannot resist making sexual overtures, but that night Kano warns Tashiro away from his bed with a knife. Meanwhile, leaders of the compound also are drawn to Kano, whose awareness of the heady effect he has on fellow boys and men invests his callowness with calculation. One perhaps should add that even today in Japan, though Tokyo is inundated with gay bars, the subject of homosexuality isn’t openly discussed.
Based on two novellas by Ryotaro Shiba, Nagisa Oshima’s Gohatto is formally cool, dreamily sensual and wickedly satirical—somehow, all at once. It takes over one’s breathing for a while. Kano clings to his looks for security as he pursues a male authority figure for a more solid sense of identity. Elements of Herman Melville’s Billy Budd (including the homoeroticism) drift in and out of the narrative, while material things and rituals suggest a symbolical landscape: swords; dueling masks; the ceremonial presentation of a decapitated head. Kano dresses in white. “Have you ever made love?” Tashiro asks him on the heels of asking him if he has killed a man. But whiteness—another reference to Melville?—means something else in Japan; it is the “color” of mourning.
Kano is driven to prove himself. Meanwhile, Oshima is fascinated by the structure of a social taboo. Oshima seems to feel that an object of taboo, such as homosexuality (or the mere discussion of it), is attached to the idea of taboo in order to give that idea credibility and life. In turn, the idea brings order and structure to society as a whole, but sacrifices the individual, who is destroyed no matter what choice he or she makes: to honor the taboo by choosing repression; to disobey the taboo, bringing upon oneself society’s outrage and punishment.
Tags: Oshima
This entry was posted on July 7, 2008 at 3:18 pm and is filed under Informal Capsule Film Comments. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.