Yoso: Teinosuke Kinugasa

The few scant reviews that I could find of Teinosuke Kinugasa's Yoso framed the story, a fictionalized retelling of the relationship between the real life Empress Kōken (reigned 749–758 AD) and a Buddhist monk named Dōkyō, as a tragic love story. But I think that the film is best read as (and was perhaps originally intended to be) a Buddhist parable. The film establishes Dōkyō as a righteous Buddhist monk bestowed with immense magical powers after completing a rigorous 10-year training program. He sets out to use his powers to help people and preserve life. For a while, he does so: he heals a sick man and literally brings a dead thief back to life. Word of his power gets out and the royal court recruits him to heal their sickly Empress Kōken. He does so and for a time he serves as a righteous adviser who helps weed out crooked politicians and potential usurpers. He is depicted as helping restore dignity, honor, and benevolence to the Nara court. But when he begins to return the Empress' affections, he loses his powers, she dies, and he is murdered by evil politicians. The Buddhist undertone is clear: he strayed from the Noble Eightfold Path (in particular the vow of chastity covered under the division of samyak-karmānta, or Right Action). Kinugasa's deliberate, moody direction helped keep the film's proceedings from flourishing out into the realm of melodrama. Additionally, Hiroshi Imai's stark black-and-white cinematography helps give the film an atmosphere of the mythic. I've long harbored the belief that the Japanese were more suited to widescreen filmmaking than their American and European counterparts. Imai's brilliant cinematic compositions in Yoso have served to help reinforce that idea.

8/10