阳炎座

Seijun Suzuki’s The Taisho Trilogy marks the apex of his artistic idiom, a style that is totally detached from his previous works of B-quality yakuza quickies. The trilogy successfully reinstates Suzuki as a virtuoso filmmaker after he fell out with the studio and went independent.

All three films are set in the Taisho era (1912-1926), and their male protagonists are intellectuals, in ZIGEUNERWEISEN, Aochi (a hunched Fujita, a fellow movie director dips his toes into performing in front of the camera), a professor of German, is gravitated to his former colleague-turned-nomad Nakasago (Harada) and his unconventional relationship with women, which could imperil Aochi’s own passionless marriage; in KAGERO-ZA, a playwright named Shunko Matsuzaki (Matsuda) is involuntarily hooked up with the wife of his patron, but is she a ghost with a grudge? And YUMEJI is a faux-biography treatment of Yumeji Takehisa (1884-1932), a Japanese poet and painter, whose creativity and inspiration gets mired in his abandon of wine, women, and song.

Fairly speaking, Suzuki’s male protagonists are made up by cowards, Aochi is too retiring and prim to acknowledge his feelings for geisha O-Ine (Ôtani) and her doppelgänger Sono (Ôtani again), Nakasago’s ill-treated wife; Shunko is a spooky fool who is none the wiser in the parlous game of temptation and sadomasochism; whereas Yumeji (rocker Sawada) is reduced to a skirt chaser whose raffish charm is lost on audience. Meantime, Suzuki and his scribe Yôzô Tanaka concoct a counterbalance in the person of Yoshio Harada, who appears in all three pictures (although in KAGERO-ZA, his role is a minor one), and basically plays the same character, the fickle, macho, irresponsible type, who is both attracted and repelled by pretty women, a standpoint streams across the trilogy.

Conversely, the petticoat presentation goes to the mystical, women are insubordinate despite of ostensible submission. In ZIGEUNERWEISEN, Aochi’s anachronistically coiffured wife Shuko (Yasuda, who also play three prominent characters in the trilogy and each time, carries off a different facade of the inscrutability of femininity) is (possibly fantasticated as) a bold temptress, an eroticized and emasculating tease; in KAGERO-ZA, Shinako (Yasuda again, peculiarly prim-looking), the phantom-like entity seduces and mesmerizes Shunko, can not be pinned down with any concrete conclusion, like a banshee, she wails for destruction, but she will not go down that path all by herself; in YUMEJI, variety increases, Tomoyo (Mariya) is a widow who entices and bemuses Yumeji, Hikono (Miyazaki) is the girl who loves him unconditionally, Oyo (Hirota), a frisky fangirl, is good for a fling. Thus the question is, which one is the muse he looks for? None would be a surprising answer.

Suzuki’s stream of consciousness fluidity is so adroit in nailing the yawning gender divide, the mutual incomprehensibility between the two sexes, and his imagery, with the gradation from colorfully subdued to profusely garish (culminated in YUMEJI, an chromatic feast almost too ornate by half), is an astonishing achievement, consistently striking through the trilogy: red crabs out of a dead woman’s crotch, solarized effect, porcelain dolls with erotic drawing inside, particolored balloons, just to name a few off the top of my head. They are so felicitous to the background (whether natural or artificial) and idiosyncratically expressive, their lusciousness is nearly ASMR-inducing. Then, the impeccable compositions often articulated with languid movements (beware of off-the-wall mirror images!), the rich scores mingling together traditional ear candies, jazz-infused effusion (Shigeru Umebayashi’s prominent theme strain of YUMEJi would later be plundered by Wong Kar Wai in his seminal mood-setter IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE, 2000) and the recurring Zigeunerweisen for sure, Suzuki’s avant-garde style is so profoundly rooted in the Japanese culture and mentality, yet, his conceit is transgressively modern, pace is deliberately slow, performances are highly theatrical while he flouts the boundary of storytelling.

The truth is, in all three films, the meandering plots never reach a point of clarity, they are dismembered along the line (all three features run over 2 hrs), yet, strangely enough, it is not exasperating, since it is Suzuki’s style of expression becomes the cynosure. Each time, audience are tickled to savor the transcendentally arranged scenery, rather than to decipher the signification of words or actions (which are sometimes contradictory and inconsistent). That said, if one watches all three in a row, it is liable to feel somewhat fatigued, since each film doesn’t possess enough personality to distinguish itself from the other two. Which explains why their ratings are descending, although KAGERO-ZA orchestrates a crucial Noh play to apparently explain the crux, how one can appreciate it varies differently.

By my lights, ZIGEUNERWEISEN is the best among the trinity, for being a more ludic and freewheeling vehicle that is almost unperturbed by affective force, and its psychic elements are more pellucid (a young daughter communicates with her dead father through dreams, versus the elusive suicidal pact in KAGERO-ZA), plus the inclusion of a triad of blind mendicant minstrels, chanting ribald ditties while the hierarchy of their sex preference goes through an irreverent modulation. And my final counsel is one picture at a time, The Taisho Trilogy is a rich mine where numen prevails and creativity brims.

referential entries: Suzuki’s PRINCESS RACOON (2005, 6.5/10); Kon Ichikawa’s THE MAKIOKA SISTERS (1983, 8.1/10).

Title: Zigeunerweisen

Original Title: Tsigoineruwaizen

Year: 1980

Country: Japan

Language: Japanese

Genre: Mystery

Director: Seijun Suzuki

Screenwriter: Yôzô Tanaka

based on the novel by Hyakken Uchida

Music: Kaname Karachi

Cinematography: Kazue Nagatsuka

Editing: Nobutake Kamiya

Cast:

Toshiya Fujita

Naoko Ôtani

Yoshio Harada

Michiyo Yasuda

Kisako Makishi

Akaji Maro

Kirin Kiki

Isao Tamagawa

Rating: 7.9/10

Title: Kagero-za

Year: 1981

Country: Japan

Language: Japanese

Genre: Fantasy, Thriller, Romance

Director: Seijun Suzuki

Screenwriter: Yôzô Tanaka

based on the novel by Kyoka Izumi

Music: Kaname Karachi

Cinematography: Kazue Nagatsuka

Editing: Akira Suzuki

Cast:

Yûsaku Matsuda

Michiyo Yasuda

Katsuo Nakamura

Mariko Kaga

Eriko Kusuda

Ryûtarô Ôtomo

Yoshio Harada

Emiko Azuma

Rating: 7.8/10

Title: Yumeji

Year: 1991

Country: Japan

Language: Japanese

Genre: Drama

Director: Seijun Suzuki

Screenwriter: Yôzô Tanaka

Music: Shigeru Umebayashi

Cinematography: Jun’ichi Fujisawa

Editing: Akira Suzuki

Cast:

Kenji Sawada

Tomoko Mariya

Yoshio Harada

Leona Hirota

Masumi Miyazaki

Kazuhiko Hasegawa

Michiyo Yasuda

Akaji Maro

Tamasaburô Bandô

Kimiko Yo

Chikako Miyagi

Rating: 7.6/10

也许我欣赏水平太低了，这烂片居然在豆瓣能打8分,里面讲的到底是个什么?说鬼片又不恐怖，但把里面的人拍的都跟鬼似的，两个多小时,男男女女都象梦游一样喃喃自语,精神错乱一样,摄影确实很美，但拍了这样一部故事都讲不清的电影，实在浪费了摄影师的才华，也浪费胶片.

拍电影至少要把故事讲清楚,是动作片?科幻片?还是恐怖片?怎么也得让人看明白，拍一部不伦不类的东西，还不如不拍,电影是门艺术，但主要还是面对大众的艺术，电影拍出来，要让绝大多数人看得懂,卓别林之所以伟大，是因为他笑全世界的人都跟着一起笑,他悲伤,全世界的人都跟着一起悲伤，如果一部电影上演的时候,影院里只有几个人或笑或哭，其余的都漠然旁观,那这样的电影，也就没有什么太大的艺术价值了.

导演追求艺术可以理解,正因为如此,才会有希区柯克这样的名导,拍出了许多部名垂影史的名片,希区柯克以拍悬疑片著称,尽管如此,他的影片叙事明白易懂,并没有把影片拍得令人费解，大体上，追求艺术的导演有两类,一类是真正的大师,如希区柯克，一类是故弄玄虚，把影片拍的玄之又玄，大概除了导演自己，没人明白拍的是什么, 显而易见,铃木正是此类.

《阳炎座》 铃木清顺 1981年 这部电影昨晚害我失眠一个多小时，我观影以来最奇幻鬼异的一部电影，可能大卫.林奇+寺山修司联手才能达到这个效果吧。 正常的烧脑电影都是玩梦境与现实，这部电影又加了一层生与死，奇幻的拍摄手法犹如天马行空，很多剧情的设置让你惊叹导演超乎常人的思维能力，那种看不懂的艺术性就好像我们经常看见一些西方的泼墨画，感觉就是胡乱波的，但却很好看。 豆瓣仿佛没人讲解出这部电影在演什么，我按自己理解到的说一下: 男主角是个作家，在墓园偶遇了一个女鬼，跟女鬼恋爱了，一直在追寻她，然后电影开始不断的梦境，现实与记忆的三重镜头转换，后来故事又引出了另一个金发女子，才得知女鬼当初陷入一段三角恋中，是自杀而死的，而金发女鬼是病死的，作家陷入了他们的三角恋，进入了第二层的四角恋关系，最后的那场小孩演戏很神，讲述了第一场三角恋是来自另一个作家的笔下，女主角又自杀了一次，死了又死（或者是第一次她死时的意象倒放）。最后结局男主角灵魂脱壳去跟女主角背靠背对应了做木偶的儿子当初爱上一个已婚少妇的情节。 电影的意境无比之高，观看宛如才猜想，特别有两个点让我超级震撼，一个“木偶的内在”，一个“女人的灵魂”，佩服到无言以对。 看到好多人骂声一片，其实有些东西可能真的只是给极少数人看的，比如《相对论》，毕加索的画，并不是观看它就是在装逼，或者说它价值观不正就不值得存在，我们应该接受这个世间有不同于我们的想法。

1. 叙事+剪辑

* 峻崎先生和玉岐先生的关系。峻崎先生像是等待玉岐先生给他安排叙事的角色，他知道这是场戏，却不肯跳出来。

2.VR: 多重梦境与现实的交互

* “你和他们的相遇，都是事先安排好的”———被创造的梦境？

* 整个场景灯光的突然变亮

* “一定有人闯进了我的梦，然后把信寄给你。”

* 共同看的儿童戏剧，讲述的还是幻影伊音的故事。姑娘果去询问剧作家是谁，却不肯告知。最后剧作家仿佛是峻崎先生的内心，伊音说出内心独白去反击剧作家，这场戏仿佛演出的是他们的内心与相互置换。最后剧院坍塌。

3.女人间的转换与通灵学parapsychology

* “他看见他自己，他的灵魂离开了身体。”

* 伊音只在夜光下变成另外一个金发蓝眼的女人，是玉岐先生，最后又抛弃她。

* 伊音与峻崎先生做爱之后，她像木偶一般。

* “姑娘果是外在的自我，伊音是内在的自我。”

4.重复元素

* 同一个阶梯场景

* “地面升腾的水汽”

* “很晚了，陪我作伴”

5.元素

* 佛雕底部望进去的淫秽雕塑画面

* 本子上画的方形、圆形

剧作家为了一场梦中的相约殉情的情书，为了桥上与鬼魂一见钟情的幻影，来到金泽的湖畔面对这两位梦中情人的财主丈夫，无政府主义狂徒，阳炎剧场中的赤鬼和来自地狱的画外音。这些死亡的威胁，丈夫猎杀偷情者的猎枪，把剧作家逼到生死的，菩萨与恶鬼的边缘，情人为了用爱打败丈夫和他的前妻而自杀死去，留下仍旧想活着的剧作家跪倒在地，目睹阳炎剧场的倒塌。 “阳炎”指的就是炎热天气时蒸腾的热浪气流，在这美丽的金泽湖畔的阳炎剧场，一切也都像这海市蜃楼，热浪蒸腾中的浮光掠影一般，只剩幽灵和梦幻泡影。 导演铃木清顺将电影艺术与日本传统歌舞伎结合，以剧作家之眼，通过窥探内部雕镂了性爱与死亡的人俑，和在剧场观看两位情人(财主丈夫的两位妻子)先后死去的戏中戏，将死亡、男女情爱、幽灵梦幻的主题以最古典与现代，和风与西洋交融的方式呈现。 这一颗鲜红樱桃，就是她的灵魂。她把灵魂给了你，用梦中的情书召唤你来此，你却无法打败她的丈夫，又独自贪生不肯随她赴死。

直到最后一刻，剧作家就像那对殉情的年轻男女一样，背对背坐在了梦中人亡灵身后 ——电影《阳炎座》

我相信大部分人和我一样看不懂这故事讲的是什么，因为这根本不是一个完整的故事，分不清哪里是梦哪里是现实，哪里是意识而哪里是真实。

片中的男主（松田优作饰演）不断遇到一位少妇，又不断失去她，为了重温鱼水之欢，他又不断地去寻找她，在这个大的故事里面，提及了几个似有似无的小故事。

先不说意识流，说这些似有似无的故事，来自泉镜花的同名小说，泉镜花被称作开创了“观念小说”的先河，当然我不是学文学的，对“观念小说”也没有深入的了解和研究，只是在我看来，和小泉八云的《怪谈》类作品非常相似。

不同的是，小泉八云是用西方的思想来承载日本的神怪志话，泉镜花是用日本的思想来解读映射现实的虚幻怪谈。

其实都很接近《聊斋志异》，我至今记得《聊斋》里一则故事，一少妇还未出殡，冒然请求留宿的赶路客们住在她停尸的房间，晚间她轮流吸走他们的阳气，直到一个人惊醒发现夺门而出。

这画面像极了《大话西游》中至尊宝和唐僧夜间发现黑山老妖一个个吸走赶路商贾们的阳气。

我不知道周星驰和他的创作人员有没有看过这则故事，灵感是不是来源于此，但文化的魅力在于，它可以无限传承和不断创新，总能用一种似曾相识的奇妙感觉集中你，似乎变了也似乎没变。

铃木清顺的奇妙之处还在于，他用视觉做了大胆的探索，片中许多日式和西洋的美术风格混合在一起，然而艺术本就是想通的，就像意识流本就借鉴了浮世绘不是吗？

水缸中浮满橘子的画面，好看有经典，你很难想象，如此酣畅豪放的情感来自和《其后》同一年代的大正时期。

其后 (1985)

8.5

1985 / 日本 / 剧情 / 森田芳光 / 松田优作 藤谷美和子

链接：//movie.douban.com/review/12600436/