Like the mystery of carnal attraction, Yasuzô Masumura’s infamous Edogawa Rampo adaptation defies all attempts at classification. Lending an arthouse flair to the fleshy thrills of pinku films, this handsomely grotesque tale of confinement trembles with the pleasure and the pain of erotic obsession.
Images of gruesomely deformed bodies haunt Yasuzô Masumura’s heady anti-war masterpiece, which sidesteps the empty glory of combat to tend to the wounds of the soul. A quivering light in a world dominated by men, Ayako Wakao’s traumatized nurse embodies the horrors that exist beyond the battlefield.
As stylish and treacherous as the sexy world of Mad Men, Yasuzô Masumura’s candy-colored satire of 1950s corporate Japan is a delectable confection with a bitter aftertaste. In an increasingly consumerist nation where friends become foes and innocence is corrupted, all that glitters is not gold.
From esteemed samurais to common thieves, the men in Yasuzô Masumura’s erotic and dangerous Edo tale are of the same pitiful breed. Daring to weaponize her branded—yet luscious—flesh as a deadly instrument, Ayako Wakao’s fallen seductress leaves a terrifying trail of foolish paramours at her feet.
Selling their souls in a cut-throat race for profit, the salarymen in Yasuzô Masumura’s dog-eat-dog vision of industrial Japan are as ruthless as lowly criminals. Laying bare the dirty tactics of corporate espionage, this visceral parable casts a shadow over the nation’s postwar economic miracle.