Sansho the Bailiff (Sanshô dayû, 1954)

Mizoguchi Kenji

Japan

124 min, black and white, Japanese (English subtitles)

"Without mercy man is like a beast." The motto of the film that holds as much truth today as it did ten centuries ago in Japan, when, as the film's opening states, "mankind had yet to awaken as human beings." It is debatable how much awake we are today, but kindness for its own sake is what hopefully makes these two-legged animals human. Based on an ancient tale, SANSHO THE BAILIFF is the mythical quest, in which the hero undergoes such an awakening through the sacrifice of his sister and then undertakes an unthinkable challenge only through the strength of his convictions.

Unlike most other films by Mizoguchi, the protagonist is male although women appear as the essential guides on his journey. Sometime during the 11th century, Taira no Masauji is a provincial governor, who has fallen into disfavor with his superiors for opposing another conscription from among the peasants in his domain. He is exiled to some distant province and his wife, Tamaki (Kinuyo Tanaka) with the two children, Zushio and Anju, is sent to her parents' home. Upon taking his leave, Masauji instructs his son to be merciful and kind to others.

Six years later, Tamaki leaves the safety of her ancestral house to journey to her husband. Only Zushio and Anju, along with their nurse, accompany her on the perilous trek. They come across an old priestess, who apparently is earnest to help, but in reality is in cahoots with slave traders, who kidnap the mother, separate her from the children, and sell her as a courtesan on Sado Island, while Zushio and Anju end up as slaves on a Fujiwara private estate in the province of Tango. The manor is ruled by the odious Sansho (Eitaro Shindo), who culls favors with his Kyoto superiors by lining their pockets with lavish gifts thanks to the brutal labor of the slaves. The siblings are immediately put to work in such a merciless way that even Sansho's own son, Taro (Akitake Kono), leaves the manor in hopes of petitioning the Kyoto government for relief.

Ten years pass and Zushio (Yoshiaki Hanayagi) has risen to be one of the more trusted slaves by doing the dirty work of his master. His sister (Kyoko Kagawa) is helpless before this appalling change in her brother. She tries to remind him of their Father's teaching, and the image of the Goddess of Mercy (a family heirloom), only to be rebuffed and the image thrown in disgust, as Zushio proclaims that it is no good waiting on the gods to help, but ingratiating to Sansho has its advantages. He has reached the low point as a human being, having lost his dignity and having spat on his own beliefs, for it is obvious that such conversion did not come to him lightly. Nevertheless, his sister persists and finally manages to convince him to escape.

The scene where this happens is worth recalling, for it is an almost shot-by-shot recreation of a scene from the beginning of the film, back when the family had camped for the night during their journey. The young Zushio and Anju had gone off to gather sticks and grass for a temporary shelter and when Anju has trouble breaking a branch from a tree, her brother comes to her help and together they succeed. In the analogous scene, the older Zushio and Anju have taken the body of a severely ill slave woman, who is to be left to die in the woods on the orders of Sansho. While Anju is gathering sticks to cover her, she comes across a branch, which she cannot break, and then Zushio suddenly decides to help her. They seem to hear their mother calling them again, like she did that night, Zushio breaks down and implores his sister to run away with him. She is delighted but she also knows that they would not make it together, and so she decides to stay behind, hoping to delay the inevitable pursuit.

Zushio escapes and carries off the dying woman to the nearby Buddhist Temple, where he entrusts her to Taro, who had become a monk. With a letter from the High Priest, Zushio travels to Kyoto, where he is recognized as his Father's son, gets reinstated as nobility, and is given the governorship of Tango. Unfortunately, his new position, however exalted it might be, does not give him jurisdiction over the private lands, and especially over the manor of the Minister of the Right, the Fujiwara under whose wing Sansho perpetuates his evil rule. Zushio is determined to undo that reign and issues a proclamation that prohibits the sale and use of slaves in his province, an edict that he applies to private manors as well.

He enters the manor triumphantly, announces the freedom of its slaves, and the exile of Sansho. He looks around for his sister, but she is nowhere to be found. She has drowned herself because after her brother's escape she was afraid that if Sansho captured her, she might have yielded under torture and given away Zushio's plan. With his father also dead, Zushio resigns from the post of Governor (inevitable anyway, for it is certain that no Fujiwara would tolerate the direct challenge on his estate) and goes to Sado to look for his mother.

Tamaki's fate is also pitiful. As a courtesan, only her thoughts of Zushio and Anju keep her alive. Even then she tries to escape to find them, but is caught and mercilessly mutilated: her tendons are slashed so she cannot walk. Still, she goes to the cape and stares into the distant sea, calling the names of her children. When Zushio finally arrives on Sado, he is told that Tamaki has killed herself by leaping from the cape. However, a stranger tells him that she was swept by a gigantic tidal wave where many perished. Zushio goes to the beach destroyed by the wave and finds an old blind woman singing his mother's song.

SANSHO THE BAILIFF can be compared to a Greek tragedy in impact and scope. Mizoguchi's masterful storytelling and superb cinematic craftsmanship come together to produce one of the most moving films I have seen. There is no cheap tear-jerking (like many Hollywood films where when a dog is saved the audience cries), in fact, sometimes his unobtrusive style may even seem detached, as one of a dispassionate spectator exploring the depth of human misery and faith. Yet humanity is underneath the brutish existence of the poorest wretch. Actually, it may be that only the poorest wretch can truly be human, for the rich are beyond caring for them, and, as Taro mentions, they do not care about anything that is not somehow related to them.

The tenderness that Mizoguchi creates in his films is fragile as ever, yet his heroes are resilient but not in that ostentatious way that makes human beings into cartoon characters. Tanaka, Hanayagi, and Kagawa act with such skill that every scene bursts with vérité. However, they keep their emotions mostly to themselves and if one stays aloof from the story, one may miss the depth of their suffering and walk away only with the morality play that really is the less important part of this film. I have seen reviews, which allege that the film is an indictment of slavery. That may well be, but that is certainly not the point I believe the director wanted to make. Mizoguchi, as many auteurs of his caliber, is too profound to be so shallow. Even at his most blatant (e.g. THE 47 RONIN), he is ambivalent. SANSHO THE BAILIFF does not tell us that slavery is evil. It tells us that Man, when lacking mercy, is beyond redemption. Hence the title of the film, which, as one should be careful to note, refers to the basest characters of all. It was under his pernicious influence that Zushio nearly turned into an animal before his sister saved him.

Much has been written about the director and his films. SANSHO THE BAILIFF is usually considered to be among his masterpieces (there's an entire book from the British Film Institute dedicated to this film called SANSHÔ DAYÛ). For once, I am in complete agreement.

June 23, 2001. BLS