Identity's Rough Surface.
Teshigahara Hiroshi rose to fame in the sixties with a number of
groundbreaking, often controversial, socially targeted films. Upon watching
these films it’s clear to see that Teshigahara had a passion for cinema; a
medium that allowed him portray, in his own style, his view on existence and
life. His chief collaborator, novelist Abe Kobo, worked with Teshigahara on a
number of his films and together they were able to bring Abe’s stories to a new
level of realism. One of Teshigahara’s most notable works, Woman in the Dunes,
is ripe with themes concerning identity within society, issues concerning
modernity, and the sexualized body as a commodity. While it may be true that a film containing many of these themes may lead to a melancholic outcome,
Teshigahara is able to encompass a deep level of respect for life, creating a
world as if spun from a potter’s wheel.
The story takes place within a sprawling desert and centers on a schoolteacher
fruitlessly searching the dunes for a rare insect. When he is informed that he
has missed the last bus back to the city by a passing local he accepts an
invitation to spend the night in a nearby household, a household that is
mysteriously situated at the bottom of a deep and foreboding sand pit. Unbeknownst
to the teacher, upon accepting this invitation his new life as a prisoner of
the dunes begins.
After being lowered into the dunes by the villagers he is introduced to
the lady of the household, a young widow who offers him food and rest. Later
that night, he catches sight of this woman strangely piling up the sand that
surrounds the house for it to be raised up from above. The next morning the
ladder that he used to descend into the pit has vanished and the woman offers
no explanation as to why that might be. He is trapped. As the days turn into
months it becomes clear to the man that the pit has now become his home and
through his frustration and anger he must accept his life as it is. From now on
his duty is to aid the woman with her own Sisyphean task of shoveling back the
ever encroaching sand.
The opening of the film foresees the theme of
moving from a modern to the traditional setting. It begins with images of official
documents and fingerprints flashing upon the screen as the credits roll, all
the while the soundtrack is littered with urban noises of all kinds; sirens,
horns, and other noises of the city all screaming for attention. Slowly these sounds
fade and transform into a more classical form of music; instruments such as
wooden clappers and drum subtly enact the music of a Bunraku puppet theater, a
world where a life is set down an inescapable, yet controlled path.
In many ways, the film tackles the popular issues of modernity
concerning 1960s Japan by portraying an escape from those very issues. The man
flees the city and the ever demanding needs of society in search of a simpler
existence amongst the wilderness. Although he plays the role of the captive
throughout the film at the end he essentially discovers what he originally
sought, albeit denied his freedom. The question of freedom is a recurring theme
throughout the story, and if we look at the role of the woman within this
context we start to see the idea of freedom as a subjective element of life. We
are introduced to the woman first as an aggressor and then as victim; she never
yearns for the freedom that the man seeks so dearly for she is unsure of what
freedom truly is. The sand that surrounds them thus becomes both the source of
their confinement as well as their own individual salvation. The demands of the
society and the needs of the sand trap are, in essence, the same.
Identity and the film’s own interpretation of freedom are largely
interchangeable. Freedom in this context thus becomes an allegory of the human
predicament; you can’t escape your existence but you can improve upon it. The
process of man’s acceptance of the pit is gradual and is assisted by both the
symbolism inherent in the walls of sand themselves as well as the names
bestowed upon him by his captors, the villagers. At first they call him
Teacher, and then once he has been confined to the pit, he becomes Helper and
finally, after he has engaged in a sexual relationship with the woman he
becomes Your Husband. His initial attempts to rationalize the irrational at the
beginning of the film become diminished and his need for the outside world
fades to nothing. In its place a sense of belonging is found, acceptance.
“This is a story about
identity, but it is a very Japanese and peculiarly Kobo Abe–esque approach to
the subject, where the identity sought is not only that of the individual in
personal relationships but, at the same time, that of the group/family/village
in opposition to the greater society.” – Audie Bock.
Prior to Woman in the Dunes, contemporary films, with their modern
issues, were thought to be too Japanese for Western audiences at the time and
so Japan would exclusively only export period dramas, the exotic images being
their chief selling point. Woman in the Dunes broke this mold and its popularity
in the West acted as a catalyst for its own success in its native land. The
heavily sexualized nature of the film was a recurring element of many post-war Japanese
films of the period, commonly referred to as Films of the Flesh, directors used
the naked form as an expression of independence and freedom. Although due to
this controversial take on liberation Japanese critics initially placed films such
as Woman in the Dunes into the soft porn paradigm and away from the art-house genre.
Interestingly enough, it was only after Tashigahara’s film won the Special Dury
Prize at the 1964 Cannes Film Festival that it was reevaluated in Japan as something
more than pornography, although ironically, its very use of the naked form
contributed greatly to its success as one of the first exported contemporary
films from Japan.
Internationally motivated Japanese films of the time plainly revealed
the Japanese film industry’s need of acceptance in the West and the overly sexualized
body thus became a bridge that united Eastern ideas with Western. In the case
of Woman in the Dunes, the symbolism of the woman playing the role of seducer
was a popular one, with actresses such as Bridget Bardot and Marilyn Monroe as
chief examples. This, in turn, under the fear that without the image of the
exotic orient contemporary films would not survive abroad, led to the Japanese
film industry exporting stylized images under the easily recognizable confines
of established Hollywood genres such as horror, romance, and even the hard-boiled
detective.
At the time, Woman in the Dunes’ popularity and critical success may be
the initial consequence of its controversial imagery and context but its longevity
is the direct result of the universal and borderless message it tells. When
national and foreign ideals are stripped from the film, what one can read into
this is a personal rendition of man’s curse. We are able to read into our own
lives and even today, the self-reflective nature of the film is still
unnervingly clear. Before turning his attention to films Teshigahara Hiroshi
spent time as a potter, and this previous profession is remarkably evident
within his work in cinema. The rough surfaces, smooth glazes and dune like
curves associated with this art are all present in Woman in the Dunes. Its
delicate nature and somewhat haunting outcome is not rushed in the slightest
and we are allowed to witness the daily rhythm of the man’s predicament.
Through the film’s depiction of each grain of sand, of water collecting in a
basin, and of the skin of the characters, we witness the unique changing nature
of everything in existence. Much as a potter creates something that is meant to
be held, Teshigahara’s film has to be watched.
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