Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters

The life and work of famed Japanese author Yukio Mishima (Ken Ogata) is presented in four different episodes, each with a different theme. The first segment is an adaptation of The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, in which a shy, stuttering Buddhist acolyte comes to revile a temple he has been raised to admire. The second segment is based on Kyoko’s House. Here, a young actor enters a destructive relationship with a wealthy woman to cancel his mother’s debt. The third episode is an adaptation of Runaway Horses, in which a young reactionary is determined to assassinate capitalists and bureaucrats and return Japan to its former glory no matter what the cost. The final episode focuses on Mishima’s final days, in which the controversial author and members of his private militia conspire to takeover a military garrison so he can deliver a rousing speech and launch a royalist coup.

Director and co-writer Paul Schrader has cited this unorthodox biopic as his finest work and it isn’t hard to see why. Ogata brings gravitas to the title role, the highly stylized look (exaggeratedly bright colors during the adaptations, black-and-white during flashback sequences and more natural tones in the frame story) is breathtaking and a Philip Glass/Kronos Quartet score imparts a sense of grandeur.

Nevertheless, the film doesn’t quite live up to its lofty ambitions. By structuring everything episodically, we get a good sense of Mishima’s ideas, but only a vague sense of the man himself. Pivotal moments in his life – a trip to the theater with his domineering grandmother, rejection from Army service, a dalliance in a gay bar – are shown briefly, minimizing the impact. That’s a shame, as Mishima makes for a complex, contradictory and captivating character: a prolific, closeted gay ultranationalist novelist/playwright/essayist who clung to the bushido code, founded his own army and didn’t live past 45.

Similarly, the film’s atmosphere, while stunning, doesn’t always work in its favor. There are times when the repetitive score seems overbearing and the artifice created by the bright color scheme leaves us wanting something more subdued. It goes without saying that this can easily confuse someone with no familiarity of Mishima or his work, but at the very least, it will inspire curiosity.

Because of its sprawling, episodic nature, A Life in Four Chapters is a difficult film to assess as a whole. As a biography, it leaves too much unanswered. As an adaptation of a writer’s work, it’s overly condensed. But as a concept film, it offers a rewarding and provocative – if somewhat flawed – experience.

7.75/10