What’s in a name?  Status, power, adulation?  In 19^th Century Japan and thus, Kenji Mizoguchi’s The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums, it is more than just that.  For Kikonusuke, the adopted son of a beloved actor who has inherited his father’s adoring fans without fine-tuning his craft, it is the burden of having his identity thrust upon him, sycophants glorifying his mediocrity and relatives ensuring that he stay within the confines of the relatively advantageous but stringent and narrow path his good family name has laid out for him.  It is not until he encounters the family’s wet nurse, Otoku, on a late night walk that he presumably hears the truth from anyone and his reaction of shock quickly blooms into self-reflection after she bluntly criticizes his acting talents.

Mizoguchi uses the kabuki theater as a means of exploring the nature of the individual amidst the oppressive social roles of Japanese culture, the perfection of one’s art equated to a form of self-realization.  Because of their encounter, innocent as it was, Otoku is sent away merely because of the appearance that something may have happened between her and Kikonusuke.  Even once the family accepts that at first it was simply a burgeoning friendship, their relationship is forever forbidden solely due to the stigma that it would carry in the community.  Mizoguchi’s concern lies precisely within the inherent injustice of these social forces, leading his characters headstrong against conventionality and the seemingly inescapable pressures of societal expectations.  After being shaken out of his stupor, Kikonusuke decides to leave his family, and all the benefits that come with it, with Otoku in an attempt to find success on his own.  Otoku, who at first was prevented from leaving with him by Kikonusuke’s family, does eventually joins him, providing a sense of purpose and direction, all-giving yet strong in her own right despite flirting with martyrdom on occasion.

Otoku is not simply the supportive wife providing encouragement, but the sole impetus for Kikonusuke’s transformation into a great actor and the life force giving him the energy to continue on.  While it’s not likely to invite praise from hard-line feminists, Mizoguchi truly does empower his female protagonist, especially given the historical period, even though her efforts and energy are poured almost entirely into her male counterpart.  In a sense, Otoku is co-creator, an artist in her own right, if only by proxy, and The Story of Late Chrysanthemums is a celebration as much of art and love as it is individuality.  In fact, they are all deeply intertwined as only through the process of deep self-examination can Kikonusuke begin to grow as an artist and the love between him and Otoku remains a veritable foe against the long-standing traditions that push obedience and conformity at the expense of truth and happiness.