Kuroneko (1968)

During a period of unrest in Japan, a mother and her daughter-in-law (Nobuko Otowa & Kiwako Taichi) are raped and murdered by a band of disheveled samurai. They return as ghosts, seducing and then killing samurai. The local samurai lord Raiko (Kei Sato) tasks newly minted samurai Gintoki (Kichiemon Nakamura) with finding who or what is killing his warriors and to put an end to it.

The first moments of Kuroneko (also known as Yabu no naka no kuroneko or The Black Cat of the Grove) are cruel and filmed in a drab, semi-realistic style, though the acting is dialed to eleven. That’s the last time realism will have anything to do with this movie. From then on we are in a surrealistic world, the world of ghosts, as well as the metaphoric world of grief and longing and regret. And that world is beautiful. Darkness prevails, with streams of light appearing that have no source and where the ghosts, and sometimes others, glow in the night. It is as fine a use of B&W photography as you are likely to see and that artistry is the picture’s strongest suit.

The story is very much of a type of fairytale common to Japan and common to Japanese cinema before the J-horror boom of the late ’90s. The rules are straightforward and the plot is simple. It is a “kaidan”—a ghost story with an old-time feel—one that is never frightening, but often eerie.

Director Kaneto Shindô, who is best known for his similar film, Onibaba, from several years earlier, had more on his mind than a fairytale and an amazing atmosphere. Politics was a basic part of his filmmaking and Kuroneko digs in. We are deep into social criticism of the rich and powerful and how the poor always suffer. It doesn’t matter what and who is in charge as the system is always corrupt. Add to that commentary on the mistreatment of women and you’ve got plenty to chew on between ghostly attacks.

Unfortunately, I had way to much opportunity for that chewing. Even at only 99 minutes, Kuroneko is too long. In the second half, it feels less like a horror film than a stage melodrama and the acting is way over the top, even for the artificial style. Conversations take four times longer than they should as each character must pause dramatically—sometimes running about the room—between sentences. Grief is displayed by characters throwing themselves on the floor, moaning, rising up only to do it again, and then again. It’s too much, and it’s too slow. The good wins out, making Kuroneko a ghost story everyone should see, but it fails to be the classic it could have been.