While there is sex involved there is no eros, whatsoever. Desperation, yes, but no eros. Then there is an odd critical claim that Niki has a wife, portrayed by Hiroko Ito. But this is simply not true. Yes, there are several shots of a second woman's body and face seen in the sand, but in no way does Niki nor the film indicate that this is a wife of his. Perhaps this is an imbuement because the character in the book mentions a wife, but, nonetheless, there is no such correlation in the film. Yet another mis-take on the film occurs when Niki almost succumbs to the taunts of the villagers to rape the widow, as they voyeur them. Some critics have claimed that this scene represents Niki's passage into the demented world of the villagers, almost like the scenes near the end of Tod Browning's Freaks, wherein the freaks claim new members by chanting, 'One of us.' But, there is no truth to this, as Niki is repulsed by his degradation. And the fact that they do not treat him any differently, after the fact, is proof that this claim is wrong. It is just a perverse sense of torture. Nothing more, nothing less. The villagers may, indeed represent Japanese society, humanity, or a variety of individual groups who are under the film's scrutiny, but this scene does nothing but show them in a horrid, fascistic light. Their perversity, however, clearly influenced scenes in Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut.
And this reality connects the film to that masterpiece of another medium, one which aired just a few years later, the British television drama, starring Patrick McGoohan: The Prisoner. Parallels between the plights of the two male protagonists abound. Both are trapped in circumstances, held by unknown forces in a 'village,' forced to go along with the villagers' perverse mind games, thwarted in their increasingly desperate ploys to regain control of their lives and bodies, etc. The difference is that, in the end, Niki submits to his tormentors, who are external in nature. By contrast, No. 6 defeats his foes, and we learn that they are, and always have been, internal.
The DVD package, from The Criterion Collection, Three Films By Hiroshi Teshigahara, comes with a fourth disk of supplements, the main feature of which is a documentary about Teshigahara and his Kobo Abe's lives and collaborations. There are also four short early documentaries by Teshigahara, none of which presage his fictive films. They are: Hokusai, Ikebana, Tokyo 1958, and Ako. The actual disk with Pitfall on it contains the theatrical trailer and a video essay by film critic James Quandt on it. One of the more interesting nuggets gleaned from it is that the bulk of the film was shot in sand dunes close to Mount Fuji. This is quite interesting since the dunes clearly look Saharan, as opposed to other desert's sand formations. Overall, it is a solid video package- with a few early blemishes, shown in a 1.37:1 aspect ratio, although the lack of an English language dubbed track would have been a great help because the white subtitles blanche out against many of the ultra-white shots of the film. The booklet features a career overview by Peter Grilli, an interview with the director, and essays on the films.
Woman In The Dunes is not only the best of the three films in this DVD set (oddly, a fact most critics agree upon), but also the most Absurdist. Yet, I do not think there is a causal connection between those facts, for there is a good deal of realism, as well. This is shown in many of the scenes where Niki is trying to devise escape plans. In his scientific zeal to catalog his experience, his sense of inventiveness mirrors that of the titular character in another 1964 film, Robinson Crusoe On Mars. It also continues the theme of the corruption of big business and unionism that was at the material core of Teshigahara's own Pitfall. It is the work of a master artist at the height of his powers, despite the minor contrivances the film takes on and asks its viewers to forgive. And viewers should forgive it, for that is its only 'flaw,' if one can call it such. And, for that solecism one gets a hefty reward of emotional and intellectual satisfaction from this almost two and a half hour long film that, despite its simple setup and spare cast list, barely feels like it runs for an hour. That's how engrossing its conception and execution is. That sort of service to the film going public deserves- no, demands, reciprocation. Go. Do it.
And this reality connects the film to that masterpiece of another medium, one which aired just a few years later, the British television drama, starring Patrick McGoohan: The Prisoner. Parallels between the plights of the two male protagonists abound. Both are trapped in circumstances, held by unknown forces in a 'village,' forced to go along with the villagers' perverse mind games, thwarted in their increasingly desperate ploys to regain control of their lives and bodies, etc. The difference is that, in the end, Niki submits to his tormentors, who are external in nature. By contrast, No. 6 defeats his foes, and we learn that they are, and always have been, internal.
The DVD package, from The Criterion Collection, Three Films By Hiroshi Teshigahara, comes with a fourth disk of supplements, the main feature of which is a documentary about Teshigahara and his Kobo Abe's lives and collaborations. There are also four short early documentaries by Teshigahara, none of which presage his fictive films. They are: Hokusai, Ikebana, Tokyo 1958, and Ako. The actual disk with Pitfall on it contains the theatrical trailer and a video essay by film critic James Quandt on it. One of the more interesting nuggets gleaned from it is that the bulk of the film was shot in sand dunes close to Mount Fuji. This is quite interesting since the dunes clearly look Saharan, as opposed to other desert's sand formations. Overall, it is a solid video package- with a few early blemishes, shown in a 1.37:1 aspect ratio, although the lack of an English language dubbed track would have been a great help because the white subtitles blanche out against many of the ultra-white shots of the film. The booklet features a career overview by Peter Grilli, an interview with the director, and essays on the films.
Woman In The Dunes is not only the best of the three films in this DVD set (oddly, a fact most critics agree upon), but also the most Absurdist. Yet, I do not think there is a causal connection between those facts, for there is a good deal of realism, as well. This is shown in many of the scenes where Niki is trying to devise escape plans. In his scientific zeal to catalog his experience, his sense of inventiveness mirrors that of the titular character in another 1964 film, Robinson Crusoe On Mars. It also continues the theme of the corruption of big business and unionism that was at the material core of Teshigahara's own Pitfall. It is the work of a master artist at the height of his powers, despite the minor contrivances the film takes on and asks its viewers to forgive. And viewers should forgive it, for that is its only 'flaw,' if one can call it such. And, for that solecism one gets a hefty reward of emotional and intellectual satisfaction from this almost two and a half hour long film that, despite its simple setup and spare cast list, barely feels like it runs for an hour. That's how engrossing its conception and execution is. That sort of service to the film going public deserves- no, demands, reciprocation. Go. Do it.