An Actor’s Revenge

An Actor’s Revenge feels to me a little bit like its director, Kon Ichikawa, in that it’s a superb piece of work, admired and yet never quite allowed into the hallowed pantheon of Japanese cinema alongside Kurosawa or Ozu, say. Maybe that’s my unjust interpretation, yet Ichikawa’s work never quite seems to be as consistently admired, like many American directors (most obviously William Wyler and Michael Curtiz – and yes pedants I know Curtiz was Hungarian – and yes, I am one of those pedants) who fell foul of the Cahiers du Cinema desire to see greatness in those that make films that are most consistent, thematically or stylistically or in a genre, whereas Ichikawa can - in my limited experience of his work - follow a more diverse series of interests. Yet if Ichikawa had only ever made An Actor’s Revenge you think he would nevertheless have made his mark on cinema because watching it again I was struck but what a remarkable work it really is. Yes, I enjoyed Fires on the Plain (as I did Tsukamoto’s very different version) and as I did The Burmese Harp but An Actor’s Revenge’s really is something quite special. It’s a genuine treat.

Kabuki actor, Yukinojo (Kazuo Hasegawa), and his trope are visiting Edo. Here he takes the opportunity to take revenge on the three men that ruined his father.

As synopses go that may be my pithiest and also my least useful. In essence it is the story, but the film is so, so much more. Right from the start, where the images are controlled, painterly, with the falling snow what strikes you is the utter beauty of the film, the beautiful artificiality of the film. An Actor’s Revenge feels to me a very controlled, precise film, and oh so damn delicious because of it.

So, what is it that we see?

Like so many moments of greatness, what defines how truly superb it is, is also how bad it could have been. Oh, how so absolutely terrible and how so entirely not. Right from the first moments, when Yukinojo catches the eye of Namiji (Ayajo Wakao), the daughter of the mastermind behind his father’s demise, and as Namiji falls in love with Yukinojo, Yukinojo (a kabuki actor that specialises in women’s parts) and who is clearly an actor neither young nor obviously beautiful (Hasegawa was well into his fifties and his androgynous make-up cannot hide the ravages of time), what you cannot fail to recognise is how this could be so ludicrous, as could Yukinojo himself, being that he remains in character throughout and, dressed as a woman, with a voice made less deep to match, yet he is also to be feared with a blade... I mean, on paper it sounds awful, just awful but the film and the performances so commit to what we see and the story, so tightly controlled and so beautifully filmed that we accept every contrivance because An Actor’s Revenge is very much a knowing film, but one that rises above the absurd while recognises when it is, often by the use of humour. Zatoichi, oops, I mean Shintaro Katsu, as Hojin - a Robin Hood that steals from the poor and gives to the rich - who oft crosses paths often with Yukinojo observes ironically on what he sees. There is also a sense of The Big Sleep about the film, where in Howard Hawks’ classic women fall for Bogart often at a moment’s notice but we realise the absurdity of it, if Bogart is beautiful he is not conventionally so and so is Hasegawa as Yukinojo; the contrivance of it all, as here too it happens to Yukinojo, including the lady outlaw, Ohatsu (Fujiko Yamamoto) that falls for his androgynous charms even if Yukinojo has no intention to make her fall for him.

All of this should make for a genre plot of bonkers proportions but instead An Actor’s Revenge is a deeply elegant, visually distinguished film that makes you realise what artistry really is. It's why I call it a controlled film, because it feels like one where Ichikawa is reaching for a specifically ironic tone and he effortlessly plucks it from the screen. The mixture of humour, drama and ravishing visuals ensures that we are enticed throughout but it is the control of the tone that really makes the film. When we discover that Yukinojo is also the disciple of a dojo and his (self-appointed) rival is in Edo, we could be laughing at a cliché cooled down, heated up, left in the corner then microwaved to nonexistence but instead it feels a natural part of the film: Yukinojo naturally has become a great actor but also a great martial artist because his life has been leading up to his revenge; that said he is not one dimensional, because as Yukinojo allows himself to be introduced to the lovesick Namiji (who also happens to be the object of the Shogun’s affection, awkward that), he is no mere cruel avenger, recognising and respecting Namiji’s feeling and reciprocating them over time. There is no small irony in this.  

This doesn’t even touch other elements of the story, where our villains are as likely to stab each other in the back; though Yukinojo’s revenge is more subtle. But really it doesn’t matter because almost any description of An Actor’s Revenge struggles to do justice to the resultant film. For all that Hasegawa in his 300th film is clearly much older than the character he is playing, and to use a modern term, in drag, he’s remarkable in his sympathetic and compelling performance, defying mockery or jeering, but these performances are mirrored throughout in asides, such as the young wannabe that wishes to be like Katsu’s Hojin and seen as a similar champion of social justice. Also, Ichikawa is not afraid to break away from the period, the music often moving into more modern jazz, so that you are always aware of the artificiality of the film, but what gorgeous artificiality, within a film that is often so rich visually and in slyly comic asides, none of which feel forced or self-indulgent. Yet for all the glorious performances it feels like Kon Ichikawa’s film, his controlled and ironic and remarkable masterpiece because it’s hard to think of a film quite like it.

Add to this the BFI’s deliciously clear Blu-Ray print. The best advice I can give is if you have not watched An Actor’s Revenge then do so now. If you have before, watch it again, now.