Golden Year: EROS + MASSACRE (Kiju Yoshida, 1969)


Widely considered Yoshida’s masterpiece, Eros + Massacre brings an epic scale to its intimate portrayal of Sakae Osugi (Toshiyuki Hosokawa), a free-love-espousing anarchist who, along with his lover, Noe Ito (Mariko Okada), was murdered by a right-wing militarist faction within the Japanese government in 1923. Over the course of the film, Yoshida gives us a firm grounding in Osugi and Ito’s shibboleths concerning personal freedom and emancipated feminism. But this is just about the complete antithesis of a conventional biopic: Rather than offering a stable, seemingly authoritative narrative, the film keeps alternating unpredictably between episodes from Osugi’s life and modern-day events involving two students, Eiko (Toshiko Ii) and Wada (Daijiro Harada), who are researching Osugi’s philosophical tenets.

At first these timelines remain discreetly separate, delineated by two very different editing rhythms and styles of acting. The Taisho-era storyline is deliberately paced and at times features overtly theatrical performances. The present-day material, on the other hand, embraces the avant-garde abstractions of a Godard film, full of deliberate spatiotemporal discontinuities and fourth-wall-shattering “roleplaying,” with Eiko and Wada periodically amusing themselves by stepping into the shoes of various revolutionary heroes and other martyrs to the cause.

As Eros + Massacre unfolds, the time periods begin to bleed together. Characters from the 1910s suddenly show up in 1969. Eiko has the opportunity to interview Noe Ito in person, but she remains elusive and enigmatic. If, as David Desser points out in his commentary, the film is about constructing a “usable past,” it remains unclear at the end what use preceding events can possibly be to Eiko and Wada. The film’s centerpiece—a Rashomon-style restaging in triplicate of the 1916 attempt on Osugi’s life by jealous lover Itsuko Masaoka (Yuko Kusunoki)—seems intended to demonstrate the unreliable pliability of the past. With each repetition, the motivation for, and even the perpetrator of, Osugi’s stabbing changes.

Eros + Massacre foregrounds the idea that history remains a battlefield open to the countervailing forces of interpretation with a surreal early scene depicting a rugby scrimmage where Osugi’s burial urn takes the place of the football. His legacy is, quite literally, up for grabs. And, as far as the instrumentality of the past goes, the film ends on a suitably ironic note: Eiko and Wada gather the entire dramatis personae of the Taisho-era storyline for a group photo. “This will make a marvelous monument for the future,” Wada predicts. The past as scrupulous recreation, fantasia of possibilities, picture-postcard souvenir—Eros + Massacre operates on all these registers. In the film’s final image, a soundstage door in the bottom right of the frame clangs shut on one of Wada’s bad jokes. Maybe, after all, that’s what history is.

A version of this review first appeared in Slant Magazine.

Posted in film, movie reviews | Tagged | Leave a comment

Golden Year: WOMEN IN LOVE (Ken Russell, 1969)


Ken Russell’s Women In Love is one of those exceedingly rare film adaptations of a vaunted literary work that successfully manages to fuse fidelity to the source material with its director’s distinctive visual style. Larry Kramer’s screenplay lifts virtually all of its dialogue from D.H. Lawrence’s novel, with a few judicious interpolations from the author’s poems and letters, while Russell smuggles in some delirious set pieces that resonantly connect with his overall body of work. Counted among these are an interpretive dance in the style of the Russian ballet that recalls his earlier TV biography of Isadora Duncan, and an erotic roleplaying game that comes across like a dress rehearsal for Russell’s Tchaikovsky bio The Music Lovers, his very next project, also starring Glenda Jackson in the role she improvises upon here.

Where Lawrence’s book maintains a deliberately vague timeframe, the film is set soon after the end of World War I, when the shockwaves of the war have shattered many of the time-bound certitudes of British society. Youthful members of the Lost Generation seem more interested in exploring the myriad possibilities for sexual and personal freedom than settling into hitherto conventional patterns, a state of affairs that neatly parallels the era of the film’s release in the late 1960s. Women In Love establishes these social conditions early on, when, on their way to a high-society wedding, the middle-class Brangwen sisters—schoolmarm Ursula (Jennie Linden) and aspiring artist Gudrun (Jackson)—pass a child on the street begging for change with a placard that reads “Remember the Somme,” referencing a particularly disastrous battle that left over 50,000 British troops dead or maimed.

The wedding scene provides an occasion for some witty philosophical banter on the subject of matrimony, as well as the ideal backdrop for introducing those who inhabit the film’s industrially blighted Midlands mining town, namely the two men with whom the Brangwen sisters will eventually become romantically entangled. While waiting in the churchyard for the ceremony to begin, Ursula and Gudrun exchange significant glances with freethinker Rupert Birkin (Alan Bates), who, with his poetic soliloquies and pointed beard, clearly stands in for Lawrence himself, and brooding industrial heir Gerald Crich (Oliver Reed), respectively. The graveyard setting also slyly announces the link between love and death that will recur throughout the film.

Women In Love at first suggests an acerbic comedy of manners along the lines of Aldous Huxley’s Crome Yellow, what with Rupert’s salacious ode to the uses and abuses of a fig at an outdoor luncheon, and a ridiculous modern dance routine that degenerates into a ragtime. These incidents emphasize Lawrence’s (and Russell’s) contempt for everything stuffy and stultified. Despite these initial stabs at social satire, the film’s tone begins to darken when death and disillusionment rear their heads over the course of an ill-fated, late-summer party by a lake. Russell and editor Michael Bradsell execute brilliant match cuts between the bodies of the doomed newlyweds, who have just drowned while bathing au naturel, and Ursula and Rupert entwined in a post-coital embrace that leaves Ursula in tears.

Sex intrudes in quite different ways on both of the film’s central relationships. Rupert revolts against Ursula’s penchant for domestic complacency by asserting his need for a relationship with a man that’s as passionate and “eternal” as theirs. He extends his offer of “blood brotherhood” to Gerald after the notorious nude wrestling scene, which is as close as the book and film come to rendering Lawrence’s unspoken and often conflicted feelings about his own bisexual tendencies. But Gerald seems unable to truly feel anything for Rupert—or anyone else, for that matter. The film roots this incapacity in Gerald’s sense of his own inadequacy, as demonstrated during the water party, when his father dresses him down for not responding quickly and cleverly enough. Gerald gets his own back, after a fashion, by stomping across his father’s grave on his way to a midnight rendezvous with Gudrun.

Matters come to a head in the shadow of the Matterhorn, where the foursome hope to elude recent experiences of loss and disappointment. Tensions between Gerald and Gudrun are exacerbated, however, by the presence of a somewhat sinister German artist, Loerke (Vladek Sheybal), lurking around the edges of their party. Loerke’s decadent sensibilities and proto-fascistic brutality prove a strange lure for Gudrun. Gerald’s snowbound demise surely must have exerted some influence on the ending of Kubrick’s The ShiningWomen In Love, for its part, concludes not with Rupert’s blunt refusal to give up on his ideals, as the novel does, but on Ursula’s nonplussed reaction shot.

This review first appeared in Slant Magazine.

Posted in film, movie reviews | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment



Just a note to let all you Gentle Readers know that I have formally re-branded this site BUDD WILKINS AT THE SHOW for a number of reasons. First of all, I think it better encapsulates my present and future preoccupations with not only film and film culture, but our entire Society of the Spectacle. It also doesn’t hurt that it’s actually the title of a 1898 poem by one Samuel Ellsworth Kiser. So, I like to think the idea that I’m out here, taking it all in, has been out there in the artistic ether for well over a hundred years now.

I’ll also be dropping a few new entries in the “Golden Year” series, updated, of course, to embrace the 50th anniversary of A.D. 1969. Look for those forthcoming!

Posted in pop culture, writing | Leave a comment

Twin Peaks Recaps

Part 12

I’ve been a bit lax lately in updating these here, so I’m uploading a one-stop link to follow my coverage at The House Next Door. You can read all my pieces here.

Posted in pop culture | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Twin Peaks: The Return Recap, “Part 8”


“For those who thought “Part 7” of Twin Peaks: The Return contained too much exposition and narrative linearity, Mark Frost and David Lynch have obliged you in spades with “Part 8,” a delirious descent into the murky matrix of material existence.”

Read the entire recap of Twin Peaks: The Return, “Part 8” at The House Next Door.

Posted in pop culture | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Twin Peaks: The Return Recap, “Part 7”


“This week’s episode of Twin Peaks: The Return uses Mark Frost and David Lynch’s abiding preoccupation with doppelgangers and mirror imagery as an often subtle structural device.”

Read the entire recap for Twin Peaks: The Return, “Part 7” over at The House Next Door.

Posted in pop culture | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Twin Peaks: The Return Recap, “Part 6”


“Many of the events in the latest episode of Twin Peaks: The Return seem to depend on the toss of a coin, inviting speculation about the balance between chance and necessity in the lives of the characters.

Read the entire recap of Twin Peaks: The Return, “Part 6” at The House Next Door.

Posted in pop culture | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment