The Tale of Oiwa's Ghost

Japanese cinema can be a maze of cultural references, historical details, and religious flip-flops. But one thing that translates very well is its obsession with folk tales and urban legends, which are often reinterpreted generation after generation. That’s certainly the case with the ghost story of Yotsuya. Adapted for the stage, cinema, and television more than 30 times, it tells the tale of a woman disfigured and killed by her husband, who returns from beyond the grave to settle the score.

Director Tai Kato’s 1961 version, The Tale of Oiwa’s Ghost, is a viciously modern take on the material—despite retaining the traditional jidai-geki (period drama) setting. Unsatisfied with his lot in life and looking for a fresh start, lower-class samurai Tamiya (Tomisaburo Wakayama) seeks a way to rid himself of his sickly wife, Oiwa (Ayuko Fujishiro). Slipping her a deadly poison that hideously scars her face and leads to her death, Tamiya publicly brands her an adulterer and dumps her body (along with another convenient victim) into a nearby river. But his wedding to the beautiful neighbor next door is interrupted by the angry phantoms of his victims, who ensure that justice will be served… one way or another.

Shot with a masterful touch by Kato, The Tale of Oiwa’s Ghost is a tough watch. The director doesn’t shy away from the torture and degradation of its leading lady. And Wakayama’s performance as the ambitious husband “lemon” ranks right up there with some of Robert De Niro’s most unlikable characters. But this nasty approach pays off in the third act, when Oiwa returns to punish the guilty. Rising from the river, hiding in the matrimonial bed, or grasping from a mop bucket, her ghostly vengeance knows no bounds. Kato’s black-and-white cinematography is a perfect match for the material, creating a stagebound reality that flips without warning into paranormal horror.

This is another stunning limited-edition release from Radiance, looking as good as you could hope for on Blu-ray. It includes an interview with Mari Asato, a sort-of video essay by Lindsay Nelson, and liner notes. All that’s lacking is some specific reference to other takes on the Yotsuya legend for comparison’s sake.