wmcclain — 2 years ago(May 01, 2023 11:55 AM)

Woman of the Dunes (1964)
, directed by Hiroshi Teshigahara.
A teacher spends his vacation collecting insects at a remote sea-side province. Reflecting on unpleasant aspects of modern city life, he encounters some locals from a primitive village who put him up for the night with a lonely widow living in a sand pit. The next morning…
Well, leave it at that. This is such a great, weird story that I don't want to give too much away. One of those gems of world-cinema, it deserves to be better known.
I remember the Criterion DVD as having one of the finest black-and-white images of my experience, and have always hoped for a Blu-ray edition, now delivered.
Although the texture of sand is obviously a favorite subject of the camera, it less often has erotic connotations because of its inconveniently
gritty
feel. A skilled photographer can show us:
…sand formed into smooth curves by the wind.
…particles coating and decorating the human body, making it even more touchable. (The thumbnails below are too small to show this).
…streams of sand flowing like water…
…and vast waves of it crashing down like avalanches of snow.
Extras on the Blu-ray suggest various theories of "what does it mean?" (as if stories must have comprehensible meaning) none of which are very convincing. This time, to me it seemed like the sand is the "stuff" that fills up life, your work and duties. Our teacher goes through stages of panic and rebellion (as we all do), moving into acceptance and resignation (which we must) and finally to glimmerings of love, for which we all hope.
Notes:
The modern score supplements the
Twilight Zone
-feel.
Notice how the collector gets "collected"?
Japanese film, always working in a bit of bondage. Brief artistic nudity.
People have asked why he seems reluctant to escape at the end. Consider what he has found in the woman – supposed to be homely, but becoming the loved one – and his momentous discovery in the sand. Would anything he could do in the outer world be as important?
Criterion Blu-ray.
Capsule film reviews:
Strange Picture Scroll