Afrikaans
Akan
Albanian
Amharic
Arabic
Armenian
Azerbaijani
Basque
Belarusian
Bemba
Bengali
Bihari
Bosnian
Breton
Bulgarian
Cambodian
Catalan
Cebuano
Cherokee
Chichewa
Chinese (Simplified)
Chinese (Traditional)
Corsican
Croatian
Czech
Danish
Dutch
Esperanto
Estonian
Ewe
Faroese
Filipino
Finnish
French
Frisian
Ga
Galician
Georgian
German
Greek
Guarani
Gujarati
Haitian Creole
Hausa
Hawaiian
Hebrew
Hindi
Hmong
Hungarian
Icelandic
Igbo
Interlingua
Irish
Italian
Javanese
Kannada
Kazakh
Kinyarwanda
Kirundi
Kongo
Korean
Krio (Sierra Leone)
Kurdish
Kurdish (Soranรฎ)
Kyrgyz
Laothian
Latin
Latvian
Lingala
Lithuanian
Lozi
Luganda
Luo
Luxembourgish
Macedonian
Malagasy
Malay
Malayalam
Maltese
Maori
Marathi
Mauritian Creole
Moldavian
Mongolian
Myanmar (Burmese)
Montenegrin
Nepali
Nigerian Pidgin
Northern Sotho
Norwegian
Norwegian (Nynorsk)
Occitan
Oriya
Oromo
Pashto
Persian
Polish
Portuguese (Brazil)
Portuguese (Portugal)
Punjabi
Quechua
Romanian
Romansh
Runyakitara
Russian
Samoan
Scots Gaelic
Serbian
Serbo-Croatian
Sesotho
Setswana
Seychellois Creole
Shona
Sindhi
Sinhalese
Slovak
Slovenian
Somali
Spanish (Latin American)
Sundanese
Swahili
Swedish
Tajik
Tamil
Tatar
Telugu
Thai
Tigrinya
Tonga
Tshiluba
Tumbuka
Turkmen
Twi
Uighur
Ukrainian
Urdu
Uzbek
Vietnamese
Welsh
Wolof
Xhosa
Yiddish
Yoruba
Zulu
l think Jigoku is unusual
for a Japanese film.
Because the word ''horror'' didn't yet exist in Japan,
l imagine that audiences wouldn't have had any idea what to call it.
Shintoho was considered a good-for-nothing company.
People thought it was a factory of wicked movies.
People thought Jigoku was another of ''those Shintoho films.''
Everybody ignored it.
l'll strangle you!
He'd come up with unexpected ideas.
l think Mr. Nahagawa tried
quite a number of really strange and unusual things in this film.
Harumi!
l still don't know
whether Jigoku fits into the simple category of ''horror.''
He'd already been called a master filmmaker by that time.
He wore wooden clogs called geta, which was really unusual.
Here was a film director wearing these clogs right on the set.
My first impression of him was ''the old man next door.''
That actually made me feel closer to him.
When we were working in Kyoto,
l once asked him ''Why don't we go for a drink?''
He said, ''That would be nice.''
Then he added
''But l can't go in these clothes. l need to change.''
So that he could change out of the shirt he wore to work
l gave him a ride to his hotel.
l waited for him in the car.
After a while he came out
but l couldn't see any difference in his clothes.
His attire was exactly the same as before.
Films shouldn't be difficult to understand.
Some directors talk big,
but all they make are incomprehensible films.
Mr. Nakagawa was the complete opposite of that.
What was great about him was that he was unassuming.
He gave credit to his entire cast and crew.
That's why l respected him.
The exact year l met him
was 1950, l think.
lt was on a Kanjuro Arashi film.
Mr. Nahagawa was the director.
However since l was just a new recruit,
my task was just to carry money and deliver messages,
and l seldom spoke with him.
My impression was that he drank from morning till night.
The first time l met Nakagawa
was on a TV movie project.
Looking back on it, l was very impertinent.
l was very disrespectful of the screenwriter on the project.
After the first meeting between Nakagawa and the cast and crew,
l approached him and said, ''Some lines felt wrong,
so l've made some changes that seemed appropriate.''
His reply was, ''You fool.''
l was offended by his words.
He exited the room Ieaving me behind, feeling indignant.
Then the door opened again,
and he called out, ''Hey, you.''
''ln the future, feel free to tell me what you think just like you did now.''
Mr. Nakagawa directed horror films
for one studio, Shintoho.
There was an infamous producer there, Mitsugu Okura.
He always wanted to make summer horror films
and he would have Mr. Nakagawa shoot them.
Mr. Nakagawa would think, ''What, another one?''
Japanese films of the horror genre
are generally made in volume for summer release.
This is because by giving the audience chills,
these films have the effect
of providing a cooling respite from the heat.
That's why so many are released in summer.
Well, my impression is,
although Shintoho took on the Toho name
it was nowhere near the size of the big studio.
l really think it represents the poor, low-budget aspect
of the Japanese film industry.
Mr. Nakagawa made 97 films,
and only eight of them are horror films.
At the time
ghost movies and other genre films released on a weekly basis
were made by ''B-grade'' directors.
As in A-B-C.
lt meant they were considered lower-tier directors.
He created the masterpiece Ghost Story of Yotsuya,
and then Jigoku.
l understand very well that, as a result,
Mr. Nakagawa acquired quite a reputation.
Originally, however, making this type of movies wasn't his strong point.
l think many of his works
were small, unassuming films that really shone.
He really loved people,
people who lived life to the fullest.
He depicted them with warmth in his films.
That was my impression of his work.
He liked movies
but when he was young, he was actually a Iiterary youth,
though, of course, he loved movies.
l once heard him say that his favorite director
was Yasujiro Ozu.
Film directors are arrogant and generally don't watch films.
Even Ozu said
''Films are something you create, not something you watch.''
Mr. Nakagawa watched more films than other directors.
He was full of curiosity...
and he'd go to the movies by himself.
He saw Iots of foreign movies too,
and l think he admired Chaplin the most.
When The Exorcist opened,
we went to the premiere together.
l'm sure he saw other films too.
He wasn't living in Tokyo and had to travel quite a ways to get there.
You have to be a real moviegoer to do something Iike that.
Nakagawa's attitude didn't change
whether he was talking to a company president or anybody else.
ln fact, after a shoot
Nakagawa would tell Okura, ''Let's have some drinking money.''
And the fact that Okura complied
shows he was quite a character himself.
But the money wasn't just to buy drinks for Nakagawa.
He'd pitch in money of his own too
to treat the whole crew to food and drink.
This made for an environment
where discussions about the project would crop up.
ln a sense, Nakagawa's style of filmmaking
was reflected in the way he interacted with his crew
in these daily informal gatherings after work.
He'd draw out people's strengths,
and then it was his job to orchestrate them.
That's why gatherings and parties play a significant role in Jigoku.
l think they're based on his own personal experience.
Let the girl serve us sake.
Otherwise we won't let you by.
Fueno, you bumped into her.
You refuse to hand the girl over?
Then l'll take her by force!
Stop this!
- Who are you? - Remove your hat.
The first time Nakagawa and Amachi worked together on a major project
was Ghost Story of Yotsuya.
Before that
Amachi played supporting roles
in Nakagawa's films.
Before Ghost Story of Yotsuya,
he made a film called The Military Policeman and the Ghost,
and Amachi played a relatively important role
as a really cruel and evil officer in the military police.
After working together on that movie
they teamed up again for Ghost Story of Yotsuya.
Originally, the role of lemon Tamiya
that Amachi played in Ghost Story of Yotsuya
was to be played
by one of Shintoho's box-office stars.
But through some turn of events,
Amachi ended up playing the role of lemon.
Through that single change in casting,
Amachi grew greatly as an actor,
and Ghost Story of Yotsuya gained a realistic quality
that took it beyond the usual period horror movie.
l can't kill Oiwa.
You still won't do it?
Then let's do this:
l'll get hold of some poison imported from the West.
Poison?
This was followed by Jigoku.
Congratulations.
Tamura!
Surprised to see me?
Of course, Amachi and l got along during filming,
but l wasn't particularly close to him.
That's because he was very good-looking,
which made it sort of intimidating to approach him.
He was very popular with the girls too.
l was really jealous.
ln a sense, he was a totally different actor than l was.
He was good at playing handsome,
earnest, hard-working men,
or detectives, ''master detectives.''
Especially with the advent of television,
the camera really captured his natural charm.
He passed away very young, though.
That was a real shame.
Nakagawa loved to drink and to get together with people.
ln that kind of setting he would draw out
creative ideas from the people he worked with.
But Amachi didn't drink at all.
Normally, nondrinkers wouldn't join in the parties.
But l think through his work,
Amachi conveyed to Nakagawa
that he was able to do his job
even if he couldn't join in the drinking.
That's my guess.
l'll be going now.
lt would be a shame to keep you from your wedding preparations.
Wait!
Following on that experience
of playing lemon,
who descends into self-loathing as he tries to Iive his Iife
with the sole purpose of succeeding in the world,
the character Amachi plays in Jigoku
is much, much more timid.
The role challenged him to play
a passive character.
Nakagawa worked with his actors
without locking them into a pattern
or casting them according to type.
Rather, he'd expand each actor's natural abilities
each time they teamed up.
l think that way of working
was particularly evident with Amachi.
lemon...
how could you do it?
How could you poison me Iike that?
Ghost Story of Yotsuya:
lt was because he made that film
that he was busy every summer
directing lots of horror movies for television.
He used to say, ''Thanks to Ghost Story of Yotsuya,
l got to work on all kinds of projects.''
Since the film was a success he felt good and confident,
and he went on filming the world he wanted to create.
That was Jigoku.
Have you heard of the plank of Carneades?
The Greek philosopher Carneades posed this question:
There's a plank,
and two people are drowning.
lf one of them hangs on to the plank, the other will die.
ln such a situation
if the one with the plank gets rid of the one without,
is that person guilty?
That's more or less the idea of ''an act of necessity.''
Mr. Nakagawa said
it may not be guilt in a legal sense, but it is guilt.
Just as we were speaking of this, a news report came on
about a fisherman catching fish in the Tama River.
The fish he caught...
were possibly poisonous,
so instead of eating them himself, he sold them.
There are a lot of people who do bad things Iike that.
We were discussing this topic, saying that in a period drama
a man Iike that wouIdn't be forgiven. He'd be slashed to pieces.
We started to talk about Faust.
A person is doing something bad,
but the agent causing the person to do bad things
is the person's own alter ego.
And then somehow we started saying,
''Let's do it.''
A while later Mr. Okura called in Mr. Nakagawa,
asking if he had any good projects in mind.
Nakagawa said he'd like to shoo ta film
about bad people who should go to hell.
Mr. Okura said, ''All right. Make a film called 'Heaven and Hell.'''
When we completed the script,
Okura scolded us, saying heaven was nowhere to be seen.
l dodged the issue by saying
l would write about heaven in the sequel.
My impression is that Jigoku contains
many Western elements.
l say that
because of the devil-like character played by Yoichi Numata.
The role he plays
is to lure the protagonist into evil.
That theme is common in the West
but seIdom seen in Japanese films.
lt gives a Mephistophelean, devil-like impression.
You're a demon! You're the accursed god of death!
Leave us alone!
That's right. l'm a demon.
l'm the god of death.
Shiro!
He told me that just like Goethe's Faust,
it was about the outside and inside
of a person.
l simply replied, ''l see.''
l thought hard but couIdn't figure out what the outside and inside meant.
After a while l started to think:
''Whatever happens, happens.''
At that time l was the kind of actor
who was inclined
to prepare for a role intellectually.
As a result, little by little, l was getting cornered.
l wondered: ''Do l need to change the way l work?''
Because l wanted to find a way
to break down my own barriers.
Next we have the godlike director
of this charmingly shabby old folks' home,
the Tenjoen, or ''Heavenly Garden.''
Not content with this pretty mistress,
he has another in town
the plump owner of the Tonchuken Tavern.
Tamura, that's enough!
So l acted the way I felt,
thinking it would be okay if the director yelled at me.
But Mr. Nakagawa just silently observed my acting,
and the result is what you see.
This is a rare character
for Japanese film,
and l guess...
director Nobuo Nakagawa
probably wanted to create a story with a Western touch.
Hell itself appears in the Buddhist religious tradition from ancient times,
and of course it's long been a popular theme in the West.
But you seIdom see it in Japanese films.
Originally it came from my memory
of paintings of hell in a temple.
When l was a kid l wanted to become a Buddhist monk.
One of my best friends was the child of a temple keeper,
and l'd go to the temple every day to play.
There was a depiction of the inferno there.
Just as we began work on Jigoku,
an expensive book of ezoshi โ old illustrated booklets โ was published.
When l showed the book to Mr. Nakagawa, he said...
''Now l remember.''
That's how that imagery started.
As far as religion goes...
it's said that if you do something wrong, you go to hell.
First you cross the Sanzu,
and when you've crossed the Sanzu
you're in the afterworld.
What awaits you in the afterworld
is a trial by the Judge of Hell.
Based on the results of that trial,
different hells are assigned to people according to their sins.
That idea is true to Buddhist tradition
but it's not the approach we took in this film.
ln this movie
the protagonist went through all kinds of hells,
because we wanted to illustrate
that these hinds of hells existed.
The whole of hell was meant to be shown in the film.
Nakagawa's production designer
was a man named Haruyasu Kurosawa.
The production design in Nakagawa's films is brilliant.
l remember one scene very well.
There's a dead man lying on an asphalt road.
There's dark water spread over the paved road.
The shape the water takes
is Iike a spider's web. It's really disturbing.
The hit-and-run victim is lying in the middle of it.
They created such a terrifying image
simply by splashing water on the pavement
in that particular shape.
lt cost nothing to splash some water around.
More than 15 years ago,
when l made my first horror film, entitled Sweet Home
l contacted Mr. Kurosawa
and asked him if he'd do the production design.
Unfortunately, he was busy making TV commercials.
He was very interested, but the scheduling didn't work out,
and l didn't get to work with him.
This scene of hell
was filmed on the largest soundstage at Shintoho,
and there were no props.
Just a huge, empty set.
Because l was working somewhere else
l wasn't there myself, but l heard about it later.
The set was filled with countless actors playing sinners.
The actors themselves dug the pits they were in.
The studio had so little money at the time.
lt was right before the company went bankrupt.
However, everyone wanted,
if nothing else, to finish making the movie,
and to make it good.
Under ordinary circumstances,
the stage carpenters and others would have done the digging.
But the actors joined in digging the holes.
That stands out clearly in my memory.
Because our budget was small,
we tried to compensate by being resourceful and innovative.
When the Judge of Hell appears
and then we switch to a mirror
the small mirror turns around and around.
For that shot we used a washtub.
We put water in it, added some colors
stirred the water and filmed it from above.
The one set we actually built was Needle Hell.
We used plastic for the set,
but the rest was mostly done with Iighting.
We couldn't do it any other way.
Mr. Okura wanted us to create those things.
''They want to see what the place is like where the Judge of Hell lives.''
But we'd have quick/y run out of money.
lnstead, we decided to hire Kanjuro Arashi and use close-ups.
Mr. Nakagawa had been making films
ever since he was a young director in a certain tradition:
When shooting a scene in an inn,
even if they needed only one room, they would construct the whole inn.
He'd learned his trade in that environment.
So even though the budget was low,
it's still amazing that he decided
to use Kurosawa's ideas.
Nakagawa's style of directing
was always to start with a blank slate.
He made a variety of different types of films.
ln the case of Jigoku,
he experimented a great deal.
More than any other of his films, this was like a canvas
on which he experimented with many things.
Tamura...
you sold the most precious thing a man can possess:
You gave your conscience over to evil.
Those who sign away their conscience
suffer all the torments of bottomless Hell.
l myself don't like gory movies.
Moreover, older Japanese movies didn't show blood.
There used to be an unstated rule about that
but from a certain point on,
they began to insert scenes full of bloodshed.
That 40-minute sequence is actually
what Okura wanted in the film
and what he considered its most important elements:
the erotic, grotesque, and nonsensical.
l think Okura wanted more of those things.
But l think what Nakagawa most wanted to show
was people before and after that sequence.
Psychological suffering
can't be rendered in visible form
So...
when we take suffering and give it physical form,
we can only resort to showing physical torture.
But the film is strictly about psychological suffering,
though expressed in visual images.
Shiro!
Yukiko! Harumi!
There are two sides to every person.
A person is a combination of these two sides.
That means, if not Faust,
at least what we intended to present
is that the character of Numata
also represents the other side of Shiro.
That's why l wrote,
''As long as you are Iike this,
l will never vanish,''
or something to that effect.
ln a less original movie, the same actor plays both roles.
Like a doppelgรคnger...
or Jekyll and Hyde.
l didn't want to make the film that way. l made it as you see it.
l always feel that
even when work is a struggle, it's still enjoyable.
But this one was a real struggle.
l couldn't play the role to the best of my ability,
and that was unfortunate.
l couldn't really understand the role.
l wanted to do it with a fuller understanding.
But maybe acting can't be clearly understood.
Perhaps l'd encounter the same difficulty today.
So you want to turn me in for manslaughter?
We're the ones who killed him.
We caused it.
Let's go together.
Please.
That might ease your conscience, but l'm not interested.
lt'd be stupid.
He was drunk. He ran into the road.
lt was basically suicide. Besides, he was just some yakuza scum.
He's not worth the best years of our lives.
Thirty years ago, maybe 40,
the idea of ''original sin''
was very much on my mind.
What is karmic retribution?
Even if you don't violate the law, evil deeds are evil deeds.
The idea that people go to hell
became the starting point.
Looking back now,
l feel we succeeded in making the topic easy to digest.
But on the other hand
l also feel we didn't have to make it in such a crudely popular fashion.
l feel both ways.
l remember Masahiro Ogi's review of Jrgohu.
lt was full of harsh criticism.
''This film is Iike a tumor
that Shintoho developed in its death throes.''
Some critics praised it profusely,
and others said we rushed into production
because the company was folding.
They called the film ''a half-baked oddity.''
Opinions were extreme/y divided.
ln terms of box office...
because it was right before
the distribution system of the company collapsed,
revenue was not very substantial.
Even so, l heard there were more viewers than expected.
Not surprisingly, about 40% of viewers
found the film disturbing.
ln other words, there was this urge to see something scary.
But l was surprised that many young people said
that they were moved or the film was impressive.
But not the older people.
Everyone at the company was pretty surprised by this.
Nakagawa often said, ''Akira Kurosawa and Kon Ichikawa are so successful.
l'm the only one who isn't critically respected.''
But that wasn't true.
Jigoku was real/y ahead of its time.
That's what makes it so great.
lt was really pioneering.
l think the way ghosts are presented in Japanese film
was established
mainly by Nakagawa.
ln the West what's considered frightening
is an entity that attacks people
or exercises some effect on them.
l think that's central to the Western sense of terror.
ln contrast, in Japan,
l think the frightening entities in film
and in traditionaI Japanese storytelling
are passive and don't do anything in particular to us.
lt's this utter passivity that causes our fear.
l think that's the fundamental difference between the two traditions.
lemon...
the Tamiya bloodline will end with you.
The way ghosts appear in Japanese kaidan films
has been copied and adopted
by all the representative directors
in Japanese horror film today.
Hideo Nakata has copied it.
l have.
Takashi Shimizu has also.
The creators of the Japanese Ring
invited Yoichi Numata
who appeared in Jigoku, to perform in the film.
l heard it was because they saw Jigoku.
They must have been surprised because he'd aged so much.
ln Japan, we began our attempts
to restore that legacy of Japanese ghost films in the 1990s.
Every film of Nakagawa's
is shot with a benevolent gaze.
ln the last scene of Jigoku,
you see lotus petals falling in the background.
That image symbolizes
purification of the heart and mind.
Nakagawa always inserted that kind of scene.
His horror films weren't meant simply to scare people.
They would end with a scene
that had a cathartic effect on the heart and mind.
l hadn't seen it in decades.
Honestly, l wondered if l really wrote it.
l grabbed the screenplay and took a look
which confirmed that l did indeed write it.
Although it had been shortened a great deal,
it really was my own work.
lt was quite a strange feeling.
l wish Mr. Nakagawa was still around
to see the reputation his films have acquired around the world.
l wish Mr. Nakagawa could experience some of this.
He was right after all.
He created many pioneering films.
They were all fun movies that everyone could understand.
They were all technically wonderful too.
He was very talented.
l wish l could tell him
''The world has finally acknowledged your work.''
ln Japan...
l don't think l've ever shown Nakagawa's films to my students.
lf l did, they would say,
''Oh, so that's where Mr. Kurosawa gets his ideas.''
So l try not to show them in Japan.
l think he's yet to receive full critical appreciation.
Even in Japan, Nakagawa is just beginning
to be truly appreciated, l would say.
ln Eastern Asia, there are mountain hermits called sennin.
They live on mist.
He was somehow always aloof from worldly matters,
and he had the air of a sennin.
He was also fond of sake.
But this sennin was afraid of his wife.
He used to say
he'd be full of drunken bluster when he headed home
but he was still afraid of her when he got there.
''Dear Mr. Nakagawa,'' l want to say,
''come back and see us again!''
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get subtitles in any language from opensubtitles.com, and translate them here.