It’s 1985 and author Toshio Shimao releases “The Sting of Death” and Other Stories, a collection of works, the primary one being described as autobiographical. Five years later, writer/director Kōhei Oguri (Muddy River) would adapt that central tale into his own film, The Sting of Death (死の棘), making a distinct story out of the tale Shimao began when he was reportedly 15 years old. Oguri’s adaptation of a marriage destroyed by infidelity featuring Keiko Matsuzaka (The Happiness of the Katakuris) and Ittoku Kishibe (13 Assassins) would go on to win the jury prize at the 1990 Cannes Film Festival. Now, some 34 years later, Radiance Films is releasing Oguri’s film on Blu-ray for the very first time, accompanied by supplemental materials to help newer audiences understand the significance of this film in the larger context of Japanese cinema.
Upon the discovery that her husband, Toshio (Kishibe), has been having an affair, Miho (Matsuzaka) struggles to trust anything and everything that he does. Every word he speaks, every look, every movement, seems to hide something, instilling within her a sense that there is no truth at all in her life. With Toshio floundering in every attempt to make things right, a troubling battle begins between the married couple where pain and suffering is the only thing keeping them together.
Oguri’s film informs exactly what type of film it is straight from the beginning, not just because it opens post-immediate reveal of the affair, telling the audience that the formation of the affair and it’s confession are far less important than outcome, but in the way that it’s shot. First, Oguri shows us Miho and then Toshio, each in individual frames, using editing to convey a sense that they are confronting each other, when, in truth, they are sitting side-by-side. This drastically shifts how we, the audience, perceive these two, as the intentional presumption is shattered — they are not talking to each other, but at each other, locked in their version of things. Yes, they share space in a room, but as the camera pulls out, we can see the violence that took place there, the overturned shelves, liquid splashed across a wall — indicative of vehemence having taken place within the confines of their home. These are no longer people that share space in the sense of coexistence, of merging as one, but of oil and water, where friction is all they can know now. This opening, in its blocking, editing, and performances, sets the tone for all that follows, wherein truth has turned acrimonious and everything is about perception. It’s a hard watch as love and affection without trust in a patriarchal society leaves too few options for either party, except death or resignation.
What’s particularly fascinating about The Sting of Death is the way it weaves perceived truth with realism. This is post-World War II Japan and Toshio is a current writer and former Kamikaze pilot. This implies, to a certain degree, that he possesses some sense of regret or individual distortion as a result of surviving the war, especially when there’s a suggestion of a persistent stomach issue from combat. This isn’t to create some kind of reasoning as to why Toshio cheated, so much as to better understand his reluctance to tell a whole truth to his wife each time she asks him something, whether as small as where did he go post-agent meeting (which he lies about) or as large as detailing some of his interactions with his mistress. He seems utterly incapable of telling a full truth, as though he’s seeking isolation despite craving connection. Miho, however, is stuck existing in a society in which she’s penalized for striking her husband, where the treatment for her pain is hospitalization or social isolation, or where the only option to be free from the pain of this betrayal as all other options only fuel her disquiet is suicide. The whole film is the dance between the two as one either challenges or attempts to heal the other in some way, neither taking. Thus, the end of the film, wonderfully staged by Oguri, mimics the opening, leaving the audience to wonder if some form of hope/reconciliation or perpetual despair is all that remains for this tortured couple.
Before getting into the restoration and on-disc materials, let’s start with the packaging and included booklet.
As usual, this entry in the Radiance Films collection is part of a limited release, specifically 3,000 copies. There’s an removable OBI strip that contains all the release information for easy reference, as well as a reversible cover with either the new art, in a lovely pink-led design, that features a still from the film of the long stalks of growth (suggesting a more naturalistic narrative) or an alternative piece, with more of a grey overtone, with three members of the family (shown in profile) on the beach sitting in a boat with Toshio standing (evoking feelings of isolation and distance). As the case is the usual clear plastic, whichever direction you have the cover, you’ll be able to see the design. The disc design lines up more with the outward cover, pink in color with text in black: simple and elegant. Along with the disc is a small booklet of roughly 23 pages which includes the usual film stills, cast and crew information, restoration information, acknowledgement, and other release-specific information. Unlike other releases which tend to have more than one piece of additional material, there’s only one supplement and it’s a 1990 interview between Oguri and Hubert Niogret. It’s not particularly long, but it does cover elements of his early life, his view of Japanese cinema as it relates to other cinematic movements of his time, and offers context for his first three films. For those who really enjoy The Sting of Death and want to know more from the filmmaker himself about his concrete perspective, the bulk of the interview does explore Oguri’s approach to direction, production design, and the ideas of the film.
The transfer notes in the booklet indicate that Shochiku Co. Ltd created the high-definition transfer, which was then given to Radiance as a HD digital file. In this case, consider this a 1080p restoration and nothing further, which will help set expectations for the presentation itself. This is not to imply or suggest that it’s a bad presentation, far from it, but this isn’t a 4K UHD or even a 4K 1080p remaster/restoration, therefore, maintaining a sense of expectation helps before pressing play. There is some visual noise present, which is likely due to age, but the presentation is otherwise clear and clean with scenes naturally vibrant in outdoors sequences meant to capture the family as a single unit in their own solitary world and a little more restrained in color when at home (the home being a space of isolation rather than freedom). Even with the reduced color palette, one can see the refined details of the costumes and sets (on stage or on location), which is very much due to the work on the transfer. Similarly, the audio, even if not remastered for modern 5.1 systems, is balanced to come through clear and crisp so we don’t miss a moment of torment.
For the on-disc supplements, compared to recent Radiance releases, The Sting of Death seems a touch sparse with only two pieces, but they total over an hour in length. The first, “Japanese Cinema: New Territories,” is a nearly hour-long documentary from 2011 led by Niogret and featuring Oguri, director Kiyoshi Kurosawa (Cure), writer/director Kaneto Shindō (Onibaba; Elegant Beast), and others involved or experts in Japanese cinema of the 1990s exploring its influences, boom, and transitions away from other global cinematic art movements. The second is a 2023 visual essay led by scholar and Oguri expert Hideki Maeda who explores the film within the context of an adaptation. If you’re like this reviewer and haven’t read the original novel, learning how Oguri’s tale differs helps to also enlighten the audience further on Oguri’s specific perspective and approach based on what he deemed valuable or more difficult to adapt given the autobiographical nature of the source.
After a strong set of releases in 2023 marking their debut, the sophomore year for Radiance Films is looking strong with this first-time 1080p Blu-ray of The Sting of Death. What it lacks in number of supplements, it more than makes up for in quality, completing the mission of sharing works perhaps lost to cinema history while adding something extra for cinephiles. Though The Sting of Death is a painful work to experience, it’s so artfully made with performances that’ll twist your heart, one can’t help but appreciate and recommend it.
The Sting of Death Special Features:
- High-Definition digital transfer
- Uncompressed mono PCM audio
- Japanese Cinema: New Territories – Documentary on the Japanese film renaissance of the 1990s featuring interviews with Kohei Oguri, Kiyoshi Kurosawa, Kaneto Shindo and others (Hubert Niogret, 2011, 52 mins)
- Interview with film scholar Hideki Maeda (2023, 20 min)
- Newly translated English subtitles
- Reversible sleeve featuring designs based on original posters
- Limited edition booklet featuring a newly translated interview with director Kohei Oguri
- Limited edition of 3000 copies, presented in full-height Scanavo packaging with removable OBI strip leaving packaging free of certificates and markings
Available on Blu-ray in the U.K. January 24th, 2024.
Available on Blu-ray in the U.S. February 6th, 2024.
For more information, head to the official Radiance Films The Sting of Death webpage.
To purchase, head to the official MVD Entertainment Group The Sting of Death webpage.
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Categories: Home Release, Home Video, Recommendation, Reviews
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