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"Osen of the Paper Cranes" is the literal title, her hopes float away like origami in the wind. A tragic reminiscence, a cracked demimondaine (Isuzu Yamada) and a renowned physician (Daijiro Natsukawa), just something to pass the time while waiting for a delayed train. Years prior she was part of the badger game and he was a country bumpkin starting his medical studies, she makes his acquaintance by halting his suicide attempt. "I feel like I've found my mother or big sister." She works as bait with the knave (Shinzo Shibata) who specializes in fleecing monks out of priceless relics, the timid lad is brought in as servant but is more typically used by sadistic thugs as razor tester and human candle holder. The couple hope for a new life once the gang is busted, but that's only half the tale. "Let the play begin." The opening segue from a crowded station to the characters' meeting allows for a superb flow of rain and wind and moonlight, Kenji Mizoguchi already as fluent as Murnau. Underworld minions have a yen for salted rice cakes, aspiring housewives sell themselves to pay domestic bills. An array of experimental stylistics stirs the study of sacrificial devotion—flashbacks within flashbacks, layered superimpositions, spaces expanded via collapsing scrims. The heroine is sensible enough to remind her beloved of the breakfast she has ready for him as she's taken away by the police, her pain of psychosis is answered by his shock of recognition in their belated reunion. "Is there a doctor on the train?" The coda takes note of Kinugasa's A Page of Madness, with repercussions for Kurosawa's I Live in Fear. With Mitsusaburo Ramon, Genichi Fuji, Shizuko Takizawa, and Eiji Nakano. In black and white.
--- Fernando F. Croce |