The Lady Vampire (1959) review

THE LADY VAMPIRE 1959 aka ONNA KYUKETSUKI

Shigeru Amachi (Nobutaka Takenaka), Keinosuke Wada (Oki Tamio), Junko Ikeuchi (Itsuko Matsumura), Yoko Mihara (Miwako Matsumura), Torahiko Nakamura (Shigekatsu Matsumura), Kyoko Yashiro (Tomoko), Hiroshi Sugi (Wada), Ayukawa Hiroshi (Tanigawa), Tsutomu Wakui (Dwarf), Satsuki Fuji (Old Witch Woman)

Directed by Nobuo Nakagawa

"The moon is rising. It joins my doom with that of Kisaragi Castle. How hateful is the moon, how unkind...."

The Short Version: Based on Soto Tachibana's 1950 novel, Nakagawa's unique horror movie not only featured Japan's first Western-style bloodsucker, but goes out of its way to ignore western-style vampire lore. Shigeru Amachi is impeccably dressed and suitably worthy of the Dracula title, but this version of the classical vamp turns by the bright of the moon, casts reflections in mirrors, and uses golden crosses as a means of punishment for the enslaved women that betray him! The last twenty macabre minutes pits our young hero against the vampire in his underground Kisaragi castle of freaks complete with a dwarf, a bald henchman, and an old witch.

On his way to his fiance Itsuko's birthday party, Tamio's taxi runs over a strange woman crossing the street. Upon inspection, the woman has suddenly disappeared. Shortly after Tamio arrives at the Matsumura household, it is discovered someone has entered a locked room upstairs that hasn't been occupied in years. Itsuko's father, Shigekatsu, finds a young woman in there; and to his shock, it's his wife, Miwako, who has been missing for twenty years and now looking the same as when she disappeared. The next day, Tamio and Itsuko go to an art exhibit and find a curious painting of a nude model who bears an amazing resemblance to her mother, Miwako. A few days later the painting is stolen and ends up shipped to Shigekatsu's home by an unknown sender. Miwako, having been in some sort of catatonic state, finally awakens and details her macabre ordeal. Revealing she was indeed the model for the art piece, Miwako fears that the undead man who painted her likeness is coming for her.

A vastly underrated vampire movie from Japan's master of the macabre, Nobuo Nakagawa, his unusual addition to the undead canon is akin to Mexican vampire cinema in the way those films revised the lore. Aside from a few items of familiarity, and a lead blood-drinker who dresses like Lugosi with the mannerisms of Lee, the mythology is brazenly turned on its head. This vamp can walk around in daylight (while wearing sunglasses), casts a reflection in mirrors, and, while a vampire 24 hours a day, only turns into a fanged fiend when directly hit by moonlight. This immortal neck-biter also uses gold crosses to turn his rebellious female subjects into waxen statues so they can never leave him. The explanation for some of this arcane alterations are vague, but correlate to an information-heavy flashback-within-a-flashback discussed further down.

Nakagawa's direction is meticulous; frequently bathing the screen in shadow, capturing various architecture with tracking shots that carefully creep in and out of the interiors while seizing the vast expanse of the film's exteriors. At times bordering on avant garde, Nakagawa brings shades of oldeworld atmosphere to the modern day when he isn't dunking the film in a barrel of exploitation--primarily reserved for the outlandish final 20 minutes. A fascinating anomaly, THE LADY VAMPIRE is something of a bridge between the old-fashioned spookshow, THE GHOST OF KASANE SWAMP (1957) and the insane imagery of JIGOKU (1960). Shintoho would be absorbed into Toho in 1961, so it's possible the filmmakers wished to get a little crazy to entice ticket buyers. Having never read the novel, it's not currently feasible to do a comparison between the book and film. 

If everything weren't already quirky enough what with the major adjustments made to traditional vampire iconography, the film's title is misleading. The 'Lady Vampire' of the title is most definitely drained of her plasma, but she never pursues fresh victims of her own. The people bitten by Shiro either die or become slaves to the master. A similar approach was taken in Hammer's Karnstein trilogy from the early 70s where some of the popular folklore was altered, but not to the drastic level of Nakagawa's eerie, kooky horror opus. Apparently, the original title was 'The Naked Lady Vampire'; a more exploitable moniker, but no less deceptive. The lady of the title refers to the character of Miwako (essayed by the lovely Yoko Mihara). The nakedness that was dropped from the title signifies the (partially) nude body of Miwako that is captured by the immortal Shiro on his unholy canvas.

This fairly complex backstory unveils itself as a flashback within a flashback, heading back to the Tokugawa Era, and, despite some stock footage, giving the low budget an epic feel. The centerpiece of undying love will be familiar to those of customary vampire cinema. Loved for centuries by the vampire, Miwako is the reincarnation of a 17th century princess, the daughter of Amakusa Shiro, a real figure of Japanese history. Adapted from Soto Tachibana's 1950 novel (the author would die in 1959, the year this film was made), the screenplay by Shin Nakazawa and Nakatsu Katsuyoshi ties the undead with historical accounts much in the way Vlad Tepes (Vlad, the Impaler) has been associated with count-less (pun intended) films for decades.

Using the 17th century Shimabara Uprising as the springboard of the plot, the vampire Shiro Sofue, as we're told, fought with the forces of the youthful leader of that rebellion, the aforementioned Amakusa Shiro. Battling against the persecution of Japanese Christians, Amakusa led nearly 40,000 rebels against the armies of the Tokugawa Shogunate for a roughly four month period between December of 1637 and April of 1638 before finally being defeated. After the rebellion was quelled, Amakusa was decapitated, and the government banned Christianity in Japan at that time.

In conjunction with the film, Shiro, at the request of Princess Katsu, kills her as it becomes obvious Amakusa's forces are going to lose. Her death occurs during the rising of the moon, a full moon. Shiro, who manages to survive the ordeal (according to the story, only one man did survive Amakusa's final assault, and that man was said to be a traitor), drinks her blood, out of love, as he puts it, and become cursed as a vampire--to live forever and change into a monster when bathed in the bright light of the full moon. 

 
Naturally, the full moon turning a human being into a monster is generally associated with the lycanthropic school of folkloric legends. It's unusual to see it here, but within the context of the story, it fits just fine. Again, if you're familiar with Mexican horror pictures--particularly the vampire entries--there's plenty of mythology-tinkering going on there; so for there to be so many radical alterations in Nakagawa's movie, this approach is refreshingly unique. Also recognizable to werewolf lore, when Shiro changes, he struggles, and grasps his head in pain. The transformations of Larry Talbot and other Wolfmen appear to be anything but pleasant. 

Shigeru Amachi strikes an imposing figure as Shiro Sofue; or, as his alias, Nobutaka Takenaka. Hammer's DRACULA (1958), or HORROR OF DRACULA in the US, had just come out the year before, and the actor channels Christopher Lee at times, but the B/W photography ensures the ghost of Lugosi lurks somewhere in the shadows of the cinematographer's palette. Whether intentional or not, Amachi brandishing a sword to battle the lead hero at the end recalls a similar duel of swords between vampire German Robles and hero Abel Salazar in the seminal Mexican horror classic, THE VAMPIRE (1957).

Amachi was a fine actor with an intense face that served him well throughout his career. He worked with many of Japan's major directors in his heyday, as well as roles in popular film series' like Zatoichi, the Nemuri Kyoshiro (SLEEPY EYES OF DEATH) series and the crime films of the "Dog" series with Jiro Tamiya. Amachi founded his own production company in 1966, and co-produced with Spanish horror film icon Paul Naschy the film, THE BEAST AND THE MAGIC SWORD (1983). It would be one of his last theatrical features. Shigeru Amachi would die in early March of 1985 of a subarachnoid hemorrhage (bleeding inside the skull). He was 54 years old.

Lastly, but certainly not least, there's the over the top last twenty minutes inside Shiro's lair, the ruins of Kisaragi Castle that are now underground! It's an extraordinary setting. Up to now the film has only dabbled in exploitational extravagance; near the end, it unleashes a whirlwind of wackiness where the world's of Yoshimi Hirano's photography and Haruyasu Kurosawa's art decor clash in a miasma of overwrought, exaggerated action. Nakagawa's curtain closer crams an old witch, Shiro's oafish, dwarf assistant (whom we see throughout), a bald strongman, an acid pit, and a sword-wielding vampire within a 20 minute time frame. 

Nakagawa's curious vampire movie (he made an earlier vamp-detective flick in 1956 entitled THE VAMPIRE MOTH) was the first of the Western-style variety to be seen in Japan. Some critics view it as a step backward for the director when compared with his more restrained efforts like GHOST OF KASANE SWAMP (1957) and the immortal classic, TOKAIDO YOTSUYA KAIDAN (1959); the latter title considered the definitive of its many incarnations. Others point out the lack of experimentation on the part of the director. Personally, there's a great deal of experimentation in the treatment of the material and the abundance of eccentricities found in the script. 

It would be over a decade before another attempt at an Anglo interpretation of the vampire would grace Japanese celluloid; those being a fascinating trilogy of Toho films often referred to as 'The Bloodthirsty Trilogy' comprising THE VAMPIRE DOLL (1970), LAKE OF DRACULA (1971) and EVIL OF DRACULA (1974).

Based on its own merits, THE LADY VAMPIRE is bizarre enough for appreciation among the curio crowd looking for something on the fringes of insanity. Those expecting something more reserved will find it in intermittent doses, but might be put off by the outrageousness of some other elements. The low budget shows at times, but overall THE LADY VAMPIRE is worthy of reappraisal; and, depending on one's point of view, a fascinatingly bizarre success or failure on the resume of Japan's famous master of horror.

The Ghost of Kasane Swamp (1957) review

 
THE GHOST OF KASANE SWAMP 1957 (KAIDAN KASANENGAFUCHI) aka THE DEPTHS

Katsuko Wakasugi (Rui Toyoshiga), Takashi Wada (Fukami Shinkichi), Noriko Kitazawa (Hisa), Tetsuro Tanba (Omura), Nakamura Akira (Fukami Shinzaemon), Fumiko Miyata (Fusae), Kikuko Hanaoka (Tetsu), Unpei Yokoyama (Kanzo), Misaki Yoji (Soetsu Muneyoshi)

The Short Version: Celebrated director of vintage Japanese horror, Nobuo Nakagawa helmed this gloomy, intricately plotted tale of bad karma and revenge, based on a famous play written in 1859 by ghost story specialist Sanyutei Encho. Exceptionally well made and boasting some strong performances and a few horrific moments, this oft-filmed tale bears similarities to another classic story of Nipponese horror, 'Yotsuya Kaidan'. A formulaic, yet effective 66 minutes of traditional ghostly vengeance, Japanese style.

The time is 1773, winter in Hanyu Village in Shimosa Province. The blind masseur Soetsu Muneyoshi bids his family goodbye to travel to the household of samurai Fukami Shinzaemon to collect a debt. Having no intention of paying the old man back, Shinzaemon kills him, ordering his servant, Kanzo, to dispose of the corpse in Kasane Swamp. Shortly thereafter, the samurai is visited by Soetsu's vengeful spirit, causing him to accidentally kill his own wife. Fraught with fear, the doomed samurai ends up stuck in the mud of the swamp and drowns. Leaving behind a son, Shinkichi, Kanzo takes the infant to Edo and leaves him on the steps of the upscale Hanyuya shop. Twenty years later, Shinkichi is now a servant of the shop owner and has a romantic interest in Hisa, the shopkeeper's daughter. She cares for him, but, against her wishes, she is arranged to marry Seitaro, the son of the rich Yamada family. Meanwhile, Shinkichi has garnered the affection of an older woman, his music teacher, Rui Toyoshiga, the slain masseur's daughter....

Nobuo Nakagawa helmed nearly 100 films, and of the 97 he directed, only a small number were horror films; yet these are his most well known features, especially outside of Japan. TOKAIDO YOTSUYA KAIDAN (1959) and JIGOKU (1960) are the two he's most known for in America, but a couple years before his interpretation of the famous play 'Yotsuya Kaidan', he directed the similar THE GHOST OF KASANE SWAMP.

Adapted from the work of ghostly storyteller, Sanyutei Encho, Nakagawa spins a magnificently intricate love triangle that, considering how gruesome the film begins, you just know it won't end well for anybody in L'amour. Much like the even more popular Yotsuya spook favorite, love does not conquer all. If anything, the benevolent state of emotional grace is trampled upon by jealousy and lust wrought by a twenty year enmity built on betrayal, greed and murder. 

Kohan Kawauchi's screenplay opens on a bloody note with an extended murder scene (Misaki Yoji's Soetsu takes a long time to die), then settles into a complicated soap opera narrative while the terror element bides its time before surfacing again later on. Hell is finally unleashed in the last half and it's as customarily grim as you'd expect in a Japanese horror movie of this era. Characterization is strong, bolstered by engaging performances from everyone in the cast. Complementing the intrinsic drama are scenes of gossiping townsfolk and an air of superstition thick with bad karma affecting innocent people whose desires bring about calamity. An extraordinary tale envisioned through Nakagawa's directorial eye where the only redemption comes in the afterlife. 

 
The alluring Katsuko Wakasugi (of Nakagawa's TOKAIDO YOTSUYA KAIDAN [1959]) is Rui, the daughter of the murdered Soetsu. Frequently fending off the rough advances of Omura (played by superstar Tetsuro Tanba), she feels safer in the arms of the benign, and younger Shinkichi (Takashi Wada). The irony is that both Rui and Shinkichi are connected by a blood debt that neither are aware of--Rui's father having been senselessly butchered over money by Shinkichi's father, and unceremoniously dumped into a black water grave. 

What makes the revenge plot of KASANE SWAMP so bitingly melancholic is that Shinzaemon, the man who killed Soetsu, meets his doom soon after; yet Soetsu's spirit isn't satisfied with just the one who felled him--it stretches beyond that. Early in the picture, Shinkichi is playfully scolded for setting out the beautiful Hisa's sandals. Kumi, her personal attendant, notes Shin comes from a long line of samurai to be so doting; to which he replies, "the past is the past. I'm a servant"--to the living that holds true but not to the vengeful dead.

Initially Shinkichi is enamored with the adorable Hisa (and she to him), despite her being promised to Seitaro, whom she has no interest in. Realizing the slim likelihood of having a settled life with the woman he truly loves, Shinkichi's heart changes course and becomes enchanted with his music teacher, the older woman, Rui.

 
The beauty of Kawauchi's script is in the ability of the actors to make these doomed romance angles not only believable but pitiable--particularly actor Takashi Wada. A meek, harmless man, he nonetheless has women doing one of two things--falling all over him or falling in love with him. It's a striking dichotomy to another male character in the picture; one who, unlike Shinkichi, is thoroughly detached from emotion, preferring to simply take what he wants.....

The film's preponderance of bad fortune isn't solely set in motion by two souls unknowing of the association of their violent pasts; a vile samurai, consumed by flesh and gold, is the ultimate vassal of Soetsu's karmic vendetta. Popular actor Tetsura Tanba (also listed as Tetsura Tamba) plays this divisive samurai, Omura--hired by Seitaro to keep him away from Hisa; he, too, feels the ghostly wrath in a comeuppance that mirrors Shinzaemon's fate.

The Kasane tale has been brought to the screen over half a dozen times at least, two of which were by Kimiyoshi Yasuda (DAIMAJIN [1966]) in a B/W version in 1960 and a color remake in 1970. Another popular ghost tale of Encho, 'Kaidan Botan Doro', or, 'Tales of the Peony Lantern', has been brought to the screen more than once as well.

It might not be as well known as TOKAIDO YOTSUYA KAIDAN (1959), Nakagawa's B/W spooker is just as good. The story has basically the same structure and similarities in the actions and fates of its characters. Additionally, a body of water is a central motif for death. One of the main differences between the two is, that despite the romanticism of KASANE SWAMP, the vendetta is more cruel in the way it's meted out. A warm-up for Nakagawa's popular interpretation of Iemon and his penchant for infidelity and murder, THE GHOST OF KASANE SWAMP is well worth haunting your DVD player.