In the Realm of the Senses (1976)

aka Ai no Corrida
aka L'Empire des Sens

dir: Oshima Nagisa

The story follows the true-life tale of Abe Sada --"a lady with a past"-- and Ishida Kichizo who show up in the public record in 1936 Japan, with Abe reportedly carrying her deceased lover's severed penis around with her for days before being caught up with by police.

Oshima's screenplay attempts to fill in the gaps left in the wake of stories run in the papers who sensationalized this scoop in its day. The resulting is Oshima's most notorious work, serving as suitable project for French co-producer Daumin's bequest to make a porno flick, a la art house of course.

If the original motive to be so graphic was to shock through transgression of the cultural norms, perhaps today the shock is more subdued. Still, there is an undeniable beauty captured rather heroically here, tense because of the tenuous line Oshima is walking, and often reminiscent of Edo-period shunga woodblock prints.

Matsuda Eiko's body is well-formed, all the right curves, her back arched over Kichizo as she straddles him. Fuji Tatsuya's face is glorious in close-up, his bone structure soft and even. In keeping with character, Fuji begins to eschew food, his body becoming increasingly leaner, described by Oshima as beautiful like a holy man.

In comparison with film's companion piece, Empire of Passion (1978), both concern couples blind to the world because they are consumed with their passion for each other, though the genre and tone of each film couldn't be further apart. Still, Fuji Tatsuya stars in both, taking on the aggressor role in Empire's pairing. Both films circumscribe a descent into the lunatic aspects of human love and lust; and for both not ending particularly well, they share that quirky narrative device: the disembodied voice of moral closure.

Empire of Passion (1978)

aka Ai No Borei

dir: Oshima Nagisa

Considered a companion film to 1976's In the Realm of the Senses (famously by the same director), Realm of Passion rehashes the same Japanese/French co-production team, on the French side represented by Anatole Dauman and Argos Films.

Both films also star Fuji Tatsuya, in this much tamer role of Tsuyoji, a vagabonding Sino-Japanese War vet living on the fringes of society, at the bottom rungs, in who's charge is his disabled younger brother. He persistently pursues married woman Seki (Yoshiyuki Kazuko) who is unable to resist some forced upon, but ultimately pretty good head. Pussy shaving is the tipping point, advancing the lovers forward with Tsuyoji's plan to murder Seki's husband, hard-working rickshaw driver Gisaburo (Tamura Takahiro).

This ghost story is beautifully shot with its lush landscapes and undeniable expression of the seasons. Revealed is the unknown drama a snow storm lends to the dragging away and hiding of a corpse, for instance. Elsewhere, the quiet presence of the red-leaf carpeted forests in Fall make themselves known.

Nature here also includes human nature (Gisaburo's selflessness; Seki and Tsuyoji's murderousness), as well as the realm of the spirits. Sex too is present heavily, and sexily so, though not (porno)graphically. As it turns out, Nature, a big theme for Oshima, envelops everything, the sexual not to be excluded.

Elements of the natural world manifests audibly as well, with the call of birds, the chirping of insects, the cries of Seki's baby. It is the ever-louder inner calling of Seki and Tsuyoji's nature, dragging them further and further down into the depths, symbolized ultimately with the lovers in the well.

Oshima describes this film's world view, including sex and love, as ultimately devoid of meaning, and consequently reality is revealed as a living hell. Even so, it is yet a source of unending beauty. Such extreme contradictions coexist though-out the work, best encapsulated by the passion that leads to the very unraveling of the protagonists.

The masterfulness with which he's been said to have elevated the pornographic in the past is definitely present this time absent the porno. Of course, this is an unequivocal testament to Oshima's dominance of the medium, clearly evident in 1999's Taboo, his final film to date.