From its densely
packed,
geometrically organized mise-en-scene to its highly stylized sets
confining its
characters to its very title, Double Suicide‘s fatalistic
vision is
all-encompassing and at times it’s a downright vicious attack on the
oppressive
nature of 18th Century Japanese culture, particularly
towards love
and freedom. Masahiro Shinoda infuses
post-modern stylistic flourishes with the ancient traditions of the
Banraku to
create a hopeless battle between the disenfranchised individual and the
long-standing
social mores that hold every character, even our fated central couple,
in their
grasp. Mid-film set changes and men
dressed in black looming in the background may seem superfluous, but
they
stress the extremity of the power and control that norms and laws of
the time
held over the people. These men in
black, agents of fate, specters of death, what-have-you, peer in on the
action,
occasionally interrupting the drama by expediting the characters
journey towards
their tragic demise, making their presence felt like a puppeteer
manipulating a
puppet to do his bidding.
The love story
between Jihei and
Koharu is interesting not only because of the style, but because it
avoids the
Us vs. Them mentality that could have marred a more simple-minded film. The forces constantly working to keep them
apart are also instilled in them, as their place in the social order is
almost
constantly informing their decisions.
They wish nothing more than to be together yet the
dishonor of running
away together is ultimately a concept worse than death.
Familial obligations, the strict
restrictions of the courtesan and the rigidity of the conventions of
the time
all work in unison to turn the wheel fate and slowly lead the couple to
their
predestined fall. The outcome is no
surprise, but Double Suicide is interested more in the
sociological
aspects of the story than the personal and in created an overwhelming
sense of
hopelessness in the face of deep, passionate love, the film does not
fail to
deliver.
Cinematic
Reflections
