Shohei Imamura/Japan/1966; R1
Criterion, US$29.95 | Reviewed by Tim Wong

AS J. Hoberman explains in his essay for the Criterion release of The Pornographers, Shohei Imamura's films were often rendered in America as "exotic soft-core porn". Imamura himself could not deny a persistent fascination with the lower depths of Japanese culture, and this film's brazen title hardly suggests otherwise. But in this dark, cunning, Fellini-esque black comedy, the unspoken "niceties" of voyeurism, incest and rabid prostitution become, if anything, acts of desperate liberation.

Made in 1966, the setting is a repressive post-war Japanese society, where Imamura's central-lowlife is a certain Subu Ogata (Shochi Ozawa), the ubiquitous entrepreneur who profits from the illegal production of 8mm snuff loops in support of the delusional Haru (Sumiko Sakamote), her adoring but incestuous son Koichi (Masaomi Kondo) and pubescent daughter Keiko (Keiko Sakawa) – the real object of Subu's obsession. When not sniffing panties or moonlighting as a pimp, Subu must contend with his own impotence, the smut-police and a widow who believes a carp is the reincarnate of her dead husband.

A former assistant to Yasujiro Ozu, Imamura's first independent outing is of similar domestic variety, but substitutes enduring banality for open irreverence; it is the antithesis of anything involving seasons, high structure and revolving tatami mat conversation. The film's hidden pleasure can be found in its visual obliqueness, from the fantastic opening and closing bookends to its peering, inconspicuous viewpoints through gaps, holes and around corners, framed appropriately through the narrow guise of black & white Cinemascope. Certainly a film that would benefit greatly from a big screen, projectional point of view, the release is nevertheless a rediscovery in itself, and is as much a revival as it is a restoration of a film well ahead of such contemporary domestic satires as Happiness and Visitor Q.


COMING from a design background, I tend to gravitate towards well designed things, and when it comes to Criterion DVDs, I'm a sucker for their excellent box artwork and graphic prowess. It's par for the course with The Pornographers release, which also comes with an additional insert/booklet, featuring a typically informative essay by the Village Voice's J. Hoberman.

The glorious 2.35:1 widescreen image has been conceived and noticably brushed up from an original print, with little to no obvious signs of aging. Given that this film is just under 40 years old, it's about as pristine as it'll ever get. Criterion accompany the image with a mono soundtrack, which is standard practice for films of this era.

The sole extra feature on the disc is a classic theatrical trailer – always nice for nostalgia's sake, not to mention as an interesting relic of how films were marketed back then. Coming from relative obscurity, this is about as much as can be expected here; the real special feature being the recovery of the film itself.