Mishima

On a whim, I netflixed Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters, a 1985 biopic about the world-famous Japanese author Yukio Mishima, who committed public ritual suicide in 1970. When I was growing up in the 70's and there was a paucity of gay "role models" (for lack of a better, more precise word choice), I would search out info on anyone who was or was rumored to be gay; Mishima was apparently bisexual, and had written at least one book involving a homosexual character, so I bought several of his novels, though I never finished even one of them.

The movie, written and directed by Paul Schrader, is an example of a big name talent (Schrader had directed American Gigolo and Blue Collar, and written Taxi Driver and Raging Bull) and a big studio (Warner Bros.) doing a small indie-type film--back then, it would have been called an "art film." It's in Japanese, and as far as I can tell, there was never an English-language dub, though in its initial American release, the narration was in English, done by Roy Scheider. (The current Criterion disc lets you choose the English or Japanese narration.)

The film plays out at three levels: the frame story is set on the day that Mishima died; he and some members of his ultra-nationalist, pro-Emperor paramilitary sect go to an army base to deliver a ranting public speech and incite a rebellion. When the soldiers react with contempt and mockery, Mishima goes inside an commits seppuku, a Samurai suicide ritual involving disembowelment. The second level, shot in black and white, consists of chronological flashbacks of Mishima's life from childhood on. The third and most interesting level depicts scenes from three of Mishima's stories, each of which, while not directly autobiographical, comments on or highlights elements of his life, including the constant tensions he felt between beauty, art, and action.

It is that third level that makes this film so unusual (and such a hard sell for a mainstream audience, aside, of course, from the subtitles). The scenes from his novels are set on stylized, theatrical sets, as though we're seeing a theater company act the scenes out on a stage, and shot in glowing, vivid color. The film goes back and forth between the levels, framed by the beginning and end of Mishima's final day, and the narrative flow remains clear throughout. The acting is fine, and Ken Ogata as Mishima is especially good (coincidentally, Ogata died just a couple of days before I received the disc, which had been in my queue for more than a month, in the mail). On the recent Criterion DVD, you can pick the English or Japanese narration; I watched the first half in Japanese and the last half with Roy Scheider's voice and both worked just fine. Mishima (pictured above re-enacting the passion of St. Sebastian) remains an enigma but this film has made me want to go back to my mom's basement and see if I squirreled away my old mass market copies of his books, so I can give them another try.