Oshima’s WWII anti-war melodrama feels more like theatre than cinema, as the quartet of compelling actors (Bowie, Sakamoto, Conti, and Kitano), queer undercurrents, and a highly emotional epilogue elevate it into something unexpectedly sublime.
A Korean man is hanged but doesn’t die in Oshima’s complex if puzzling political farce, built out of layers of thematic juxtapositions and performative gestures, as the ghastly spectre of Japanese imperialism and social injustices rear their ugly heads.
A mix of avant-garde Godard and topographical Rivette, but wholly Oshima in this occasionally ponderous meta-filmic and self-reflexive take on what it means to engage politically with filmmaking as a character leaves a mysterious final reel of film after committing suicide.
Oshima confidently mixes eroticism with the supernatural in this beautifully-shot murder-cum-ghost tale that is rich in old-world atmosphere.
One of the most notorious films in the history of cinema—its explicit, unsimulated depiction of sex hides a troubling exploration of social alienation.
Eternality Tan 