A film that will fascinate and repel its viewers at the same time, just like the subject its made on.
“Mishima” (1985), as one can guess, tells the story of Yukio Mishima, one of the most controversial authors in Japan because of his legal and political sentiments as well as extreme patriotism that has been questioned time and again. Schrader’s film not only gives an insight into Mishima’s creative work but also sheds light on the foundations of his artistic and ultimately his political convictions.
“Art is a form of expression, it can be violent act that cuts deep into the flesh, it can also be a remedy to that cut. Art creates and destroys at the same time, it has the power to build and shatter the world.”
Mishima’s life has been a conflicted manifestation of this statement and in a way Schrader’s life too. So it doesn’t come as a surprise that of all the people in the world Schrader decided to make a biopic on Mishima. Schrader, a director and screenwriter who has always dealt with broken & flawed characters in his work, makes no secret of his fascination with Mishima, but he also unabashedly brings out the problematic nature of this person. As usual, he challenges his viewers to deal with a morally questionable protagonist, his world and his views, which is often very uncomfortable.
The screenplay by Paul Schrader and his brother Leonard is least interested in a chronological depiction of the author, it instead prefers to thematize the contradictions and conflicts, with long stretches of the film remaining in the world of novels by Mishima. The juxtaposition of the abstractly staged novels’ plot to the artist’s life not only draws parallels but also asks oneself whether a distinction between author and narrator or protagonist still applies.
When the temple in the first episode finally catches fire, the protagonist frees himself from what dictates the beauty in this world, one understands this as a step in the development of the author Mishima, but one also understands that he has come one step closer to the abyss. Likewise, all the other three chapters not only draws parallel but also creates a distinction.
A film like “Mishima” requires a strong actor who can withstand the dark abysses of the role and make it at least reasonable for the audience even if they don’t agree with his actions n ideologies. Thus, Ken Ogata’s performance is fascinating, to say the least as in his facial expressions and physicality one notices Mishima’s growing reluctance to accept the status quo in Japan, the changes he wishes to no longer exist.
I can speak in superlatives about the technicalities but that shall feel redundant, still, not mentioning Eiko Ishioka who created a visually intoxicating world and cinematographer John Bailey, who captures everything innovatively, which remains true to the Asian style of Cinematography, shall be a sin. The congenial soundtrack by Philip Glass is often intrusive, but it does a crucial job in the construction. Schrader presents Mishima with his ideologies without reflection, he presents his life like a well-defined work of art but that is fine because hardly anyone can understand a man like Mishima completely.
Abstract in its writing and remarkable in its execution, this film will fascinate and repel its viewers at the same time. But it won’t leave them indifferent certainly.
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