A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness – Radiance

Director: Seijun Suzuki
Screenplay: Atsushi Yamatoya
Based on a Manga by: Ikki Kajiwara
Starring: Yoko Shiraki, Yoshio Harada, Masumi Okada, Kōji Wada, Shuji Sano, Asao Koike, Keisuke Noro, Jō Shishido
Country: Japan
Running Time: 93 min
Year: 1977
BBFC Certificate: 15 (TBC)

Much has been written and said about Seijun Suzuki’s firing from Nikkatsu following the release of Branded to Kill, so I won’t go into too much detail. Basically though, the company was struggling financially and studio president Kyusaku Hori was fed up with the director making what he believed were “incomprehensible and thus bad films” that “would disgrace the company”. Suzuki believed the way this came around was unjust, so took Nikkatsu to court.

It took three-and-a-half years to go through the whole legal process and, though a settlement was reached and an apology given to the director, Suzuki was still effectively blacklisted, so couldn’t get any work in the film industry for a long while afterwards.

He did eventually make it back to the director’s chair, however, to make A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness in 1977, a decade after the release of Branded to Kill. It marked the beginning of the final phase of his career, up until his death in 2017, aged 93.

Radiance Films are soon to be releasing A Tale of Sorrow and Sadness on Blu-ray. Being a fan of Seijun Suzuki, I requested a screener and my thoughts follow.

In the film, Yoko Shiraki plays Reiko, an attractive young golfer who catches the interest of a fashion company looking to find a new model/idol to represent them, so they can better their rivals who’ve bagged an internationally renowned gymnast.

The company offer a large sum of money to Miyake (Yoshio Harada), a golf magazine editor and Reiko’s lover, to talk her into signing a contract with them. However, they first want him to push her into winning a big national tournament. They believe the coverage will make her a big star and better promote their brand.

After some intensive training, Reiko manages to win the tournament and, indeed, becomes a popular public figure, with her own TV show on top of her modelling gigs.

All this fame comes at a price though. One evening, Miyake hits a woman with his car, when Reiko was travelling with him. To avoid a scandal, he drives off and tries to cover it up. However, the woman hit is Kayo Semba (Kyôko Enami), an obsessed fan who had recently been snubbed by Reiko when trying to talk to her in the street.

Semba proceeds to blackmail Reiko and makes her life a living hell.

The film was executively produced by Ikki Kajiwara and based on one of his manga. Kajiwara was famous for his relatively generic and heroic sports-themed manga and a number of these had been turned into films and TV series. Thankfully though here, Suzuki warps the material into something more fitting to his unique style. He may have been fired a decade previously for going against the grain, but he wasn’t about to change his ways.

Starting out as what looks to be a straightforward sports drama, A Tale of Sorrow… becomes a warped satire of consumerism and celebrity. It was likely influenced by the ‘idol’ system in Japan at the time but the film still feels startlingly relevant in today’s world of social media influencers.

Interestingly, there are no real heroes in the film. Our protagonist Reiko is really just a cypher within the story. She’s never given a say in anything and is walked all over and exploited by practically everyone in the film. This says something about the soullessness of celebrity culture but perhaps the story would have had more of an emotional impact with a stronger heroine.

Reportedly, the lead actress was a relative amateur and was hired because she was Ikki Kajiwara’s mistress. Assistant editor Kunihiko Ukai claims that Suzuki and other crew members struggled to work with her. She only starred in one other film following this, so the rumour may likely be true.

Like many of Suzuki’s films, there’s a bold use of colour and striking production design throughout. There’s some offbeat editing too, making for a stylish and attention-grabbing watch.

Surprisingly, given his firing from Nikkatsu, the film was shot on Nikkatsu sets and with crew largely from Nikkatsu, as Suzuki was used to working with them and only had an issue with the boss. So, whilst technically a Shochiku production, A Tale of Sorrow… still has somewhat of a feel of Suzuki’s earlier work, at least in terms of style. The story and subject feel quite unique though.

I wouldn’t say everything worked for me here, however. The comedy can lurch from sharp to silly in places and doesn’t always gel with the darker aspects of the story. I felt the final act was a little messy too.

However, Suzuki’s offbeat stab at fame and celebrity remains a quirky, stylish and enjoyable romp, despite the occasional misstep.

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