What would you do to make amends with your past? For some, it means rolling up your sleeves and doing the hard work to atone; while, for others, it means living a life of abstinence. Both can be viewed as an overcorrection and both can result in a denial of reparation. This is a key element in the 1997 crime drama The Eel (うなぎ) from director/co-writer Shōhei Imamura (Vengeance Is Mine), an adaptation of author Akira Yoshimura’s (The Catch) novel On Parole starring Koji Yakusho (Perfect Days; Tampopo), that’s coming available on Blu-ray for the first time world-wide via Radiance Films. Through Imamura’s film, concepts of violence, greed, and lust are ruminated on and manipulated until one’s own straight-forward beliefs regarding redemption are challenged in this surprisingly hopeful, though familiar, tale.
After serving eight years in prison for murdering his adulterous wife, Takuro Yamashita (Kôji Yakusho) is released on parole and is determined to live his life quietly with the eel he saved in prison as his primary company. With the barber skills he learned in prison, Takuro decides to open up a shop in a small town in close proximity to his parole officer, Reverend Jiro Nakajima (Fujio Tokita). Warned to stay out of trouble, Takuro does his best to avoid unnecessary contact with others, finding himself at a crossroads when he comes across an unconscious woman, Keiko Hattori (Misa Shimizu). His choice to help allows her to get the necessary medical attention she requires and, as thanks, the reverend’s wife, Misako Nakajima (Mitsuko Baisho), suggests that Keiko come work for Takuro — a request that has startling outcomes for Takuro, Keiko, and several of the residents of their area.
Imamura’s The Eel doesn’t initially seem like it’s going to be a rousing tale given its focus on a murderer whose preferred company is the eel he saved in prison. Yet, through Imamura’s direction and Yakusho’s performance, we quickly come to realize that Takuro is someone who may have been, more or less, institutionalized prior to going to prison and whose response to life on parole is as much about his own inability to process existing without structure, without direction, and certainly without a sense of reason. That last bit, in particular, as he seems more likely to commune with the eel he kept alive in prison than with anyone else. Receptive viewers will quickly realize that it’s not sanity that Takuro lacks, it’s confidence, specifically the ability to communicate with others. In response to being asked why he keeps the eel, Takuro expresses that the creature doesn’t tell him things he doesn’t want to hear, the eel serving as a stand-in ballast for social connection and purpose that he lost with his wife. While the character he’s speaking to might take this as a misanthropic idea, it’s far simpler and more specific. In the film, he learned of his wife’s cheating through a letter. Of course, as the film progresses and reality merges with metaphor, Takuro questions whether the letters we saw him read were real or not, which, of course, begs the question of how he came to know of her cheating; however, one can surmise that whether he deduced it himself or not, it was something he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to learn, as it destroyed his entire worldview upon confirmation. This is the guiding principle behind what causes Takuro to focus inward through the film, not just because he doesn’t want to break his parole, but because a life in isolation will prevent the hurt he experienced and prevent it from happening again. Though his relationship with Keiko is forced on him and he can recognize how her assistance improves his shop and other aspects of his life, the complexity and uncertainty of her inclusion causes the kind of friction he’d prefer to avoid. Fascinatingly, the script, adapted by Imamura, Motofumi Tomikawa (Warm Water Under a Red Bridge), and Daisuke Tengan (Audition; 13 Assassins), makes sure to acknowledge Keiko’s own rotten trajectory which brought her to the circumstances upon which Takuro finds her and saves her life. Everyone has made terrible choices (some debatably worse than or deserving of murder) and, therefore, even upon learning the truth, she doesn’t deride or push away from Takuro, but seems to try to get closer, to resolve her own loose threads so as to set herself on a better path. This, combined with the film’s patience in demonstrating how connection keeps us safe and whole, allowing for healing to occur, means that Takuro’s moment of embracing the people he’s come to know, by acknowledging what Keiko means to him, is a powerful one. But it’s not through something that Takuro says, but by what he does — using his body to get involved in the very kinds of things that could break his parole. But what solidifies The Eel as a truly beautiful film is the demonstration of community in rallying around someone they claim for themselves, dark past and all, as Takuro’s friends do the moment the eel itself comes into danger. The Eel could be maudlin or a heavy work of introspection but we find ourselves rooting for Takuro on each step on his journey, being taken with him through the changes Imamura made from the original novel. Instead of Takuro being a seafood chef, committing acts of violence against sea creatures as part of creating dishes almost daily, he’s a barber, turning the daily struggles and reminders of violence to acts of service for the people around him while keeping society at a distance. Takuro continues to fish but now releases all he catches, demonstrating his tenderness for sea creatures just as his barbary shows this for those around him.
Now, this is a Radiance Films release, so we’re going to get into the particulars of the edition via the retail copy provided by MVD Entertainment Group.
First, this edition is limited to 3,000 copies with the typical Scanavo packaging, removable information strip (OBI), and reversible liner that has new art from Time Tomorrow front-facing and original art on the inside. The limited edition also includes a booklet with film stills decorating the front and back as well as placed throughout amid the release information and two re-printed materials (one an interview with Imamura (1997) and another an essay from Andrea Grunert (2019)). Those familiar with Radiance releases know this all to be fairly standard, thus far, with their releases.
Regarding the disc itself, the film is available in HD with uncompressed mono PCM audio with both versions of the film: theatrical (117 minutes) and director’s cut (134 minutes). The information on the menu screen when selecting the film provides the option of which edition and explains that the director’s cut was made specifically for a release in late 1997 and was overseen by Imamura. For the purposes of this review, since it’s a first-time watch, I opted for the theatrical edition and what follows will focus on this cut of the film. The video elements are clean and clear, the colors natural throughout except in a few sequences when the enhancement of color are meant to help convey the psychology of Takuro (either during his waking or dreaming life). This means that the foliage that makes up the outside of his home is a beautiful green, whereas the red that’s transposed over the frames when he discovers his wife’s in-progress infidelity is appropriately blood crimson. This means that the brief presentation of Takuro in prison is a cool grey and muted white and the space around the barbershop is a mix of natural greens and industrial browns. Nothing in Shigeru Komatsubara’s cinematography is about amplifying the state of reality unless it’s during one of Takuro’s dreams and, even then, it’s only through the presentation of action that things are recognizably enhanced. The audio is mono, so a 5.1 surround system is wasted on such a presentation, yet, like the video component, there are no discernable pops, spikes, or other signs of wear. The transfer notes in the booklet indicate that Shochiku Co. Ltd. created the HD transfer themselves and gave it to Radiance as a HD digital file, so there are no specifics regarding how the new transfer was created. Yet, one can discern from the quality of the video and audio elements that however the original materials were stored, they were done so well as to reduce any degradation. Or, at the very least, the restoration process by Shochiku adjusted everything to create a fairly pristine on-disc presentation.
That said, be advised that the booklet states:
“Where necessary and in order to present a complete an accurate version of the Theatrical Cut, this version briefly incorporates interstitial footage taken from a pre-existing standard definition version, which was the only available source for this version of the film. As a result, there are occasional moments where the resolution of the picture noticeably fluctuates.”
Three brand-new supplemental materials, each recorded and produced in 2024 specifically for this release are included. The first is a 28-minute interview with film critic Tony Rayns (contributor to other Radiance, Criterion, and Arrow titles) which provides context of Imamura’s life and The Eel as a major component of his larger body of work. The second is a 19-minute interview with co-writer Daisuke Tengan in which they discuss writing the film and his complex relationship with his father, Imamura. The final new material is a 13-minute visual essay from Tom Mes (contributor to other Radiance and Third Window Films titles) which explores The Eel within the context of Japanese cinema at the time of release. The making of the film was very much a response to the seeming cultural focus on money and what Imamura believed to be its detrimental effect on the country — aspects that are central to the storyline and secondary character conflicts within the film. Having this additional background enables home viewers to better connect with what Imamura seeks to accomplish.
In the current climate in America, there’s a battle going on between those who seek to open our minds to what other cultures offer and those who would close everything down out of fear of what those cultures might bring. This is what makes stories like The Eel and the work of a boutique like Radiance so necessary, because audiences get opportunities to connect with artists from not just different countries but from different eras. This enables people to see just how similar our stories can be, even if they are different by virtue of the perspective they are anchored in. Those of us who have grown up on crime dramas like The Shawshank Redemption (1994) or Cool Hand Luke (1967) will see a certain familiarity within The Eel, but its lead character and the quiet desperation Yakusho infuses Takuro with makes the tale singular and ripe for re-evaluation or, in the case of those seeing it for the first time, discovery.
The Eel Special Features:
- High-Definition digital transfer
- Uncompressed mono PCM audio
- Contains both the Theatrical cut (117 mins.) and rarely seen Director’s cut (134 mins.)
- Interview with critic Tony Rayns (2024)
- Interview with screenwriter Daisuke Tengan (2024)
- Visual essay by Tom Mes on the year 1997 as a turning point in Japanese cinema (2024)
- Trailer
- Newly improved English subtitle translation
- Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Time Tomorrow
- Limited edition booklet featuring a newly translated archival interview with Imamura
- 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.S. April 15th, 2025.
For more information, head to the official Radiance Films The Eel webpage.
To purchase, head to the official MVD Entertainment Group The Eel webpage.
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Categories: Films To Watch, Home Release, Home Video, Recommendation, Reviews
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