Original title: Ubume no natsu
Japan in the early 50s. When visiting his former war compatriot, the private
detective Enokizu (Hiroshi Abe), writer Sekiguchi (Masatoshi Nagase) stumbles
onto a very curious case. A girl named Ryoko Kuonji (Tomoyo Harada) tells the
strange tale of the impossible disappearance of her sister’s husband, and a the
woman’s now twenty month pregnancy. Enokizu, who has the ability to see other
people’s memories, doesn’t want to have anything to do with the case at all, for
reasons he isn’t too willing to share with Sekiguchi. Sekiguchi can’t get his
mind away from Ryoko and her tale, something about her tale and herself haunts
him. Quite literally so, for after their meeting, he starts to fall into
trancelike states, in which he encounters the original Chinese version of the
yokai known as the Ubume. The Ubume is one of several female spirits accosting
passersby with the request to hold her baby (depending on the local version of
the Ubume, it may be bad to agree or to disagree), whereas the Chinese original
kidnaps children.
Disturbed, Sekiguchi goes to his old school friend, bookseller/Buddhist
priest/onmyoji Kyogokudo (Shinichi Tsutsumi). Looking for some kind of help, one
supposes, but Kyogokudo has a hard time stopping his endless monologues about
the nature of reality or tone down a rudeness that makes Sherlock Holmes look
personable. Eventually, both Enokizu and particularly Kyogokudo will
become involved in the case too, opening up a sordid tale of secrets of the past
Sekiguchi may know more about than he thinks, baby murders, multiple personality
disorder, angry mobs, an old family, and other markers of the Japanese Gothic
mystery movie.
This adaptation of Natsuhiko Kyogoku’s novel (one of only a few actually
translated into a language I understand, so hooray) was directed by Akio
Jissoji, a man working in tokusatsu TV, pinku and arthouse
films imbuing all with the same sort of deeply personal sensibility and strange
sense of humour, as well as the willingness to dig deep into artificial
filmmaking techniques. So, obviously, when making a film whose central tenet and
several important plot points are based on the subjectivity of perception and
memory, he went all out on sometimes alienating filmic techniques, starting the
film – more or less – off with Sekiguchi’s visit with the for my tastes pretty
insufferable Kyogokudo (who knows everything and is right about everything and
never stops talking), not marking the scenes with Ryoko and Enokizu as
flashbacks, and from then on never leaving out a single peculiar camera angle,
theatrical bit of lighting, and so on and so forth. We are, after all, just
seeing our brains’ interpretations of reality and not reality itself. One can
find this approach a bit exhausting but it is also admirable in its consequence,
for in the end, every visual peculiarity and every visual metaphor actually has
meaning and sense here, Jissoji not being weird for the sake of being weird but
to let the audience experience the themes of the movie through more than just
its plot.
While he’s at it, the director also turns the potboiler-y elements of the
book up to eleven, often suggesting a man deconstructing a Japanese Gothic
Mystery (that’s indeed a sub-genre one can encounter quite often in Japanese
cinema, probably in books as well, but that stuff never seems to get translated
into any language I can understand) by overcooking it terribly. Which is
somewhat ironic seeing as Kyogoku himself is – at least in the handful of books
of his I’ve been able to read - a rather cerebral writer who doesn’t
wallow much in the sensationalist elements of his novels but prefers to
philosophize for chapters (though his characters would probably say it’s not
philosophy but science), demonstrate his admirable knowledge of yokai and uses
the extremities of his plots sparsely.
Summer of Ubume is quite the experience to go through, taking the
approaches Kon Ichikawa used in his Kosuke Kindaichi mystery adaptations but
cranking them up to a degree of controlled insanity.
I appreciate the film a lot, yet even more so I appreciate that this
is a piece of art which tries to convince its audience there’s nothing truly
strange in the world through a story so strange it borders on the absurd
particularly when it rolls out its “natural explanations”. It’s fantastic.
Sunday, July 8, 2018
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