Released in 1974
Directed by Shuji Terayama
Storyline: Shûji Terayama’s film is avant-garde filmmaking at its finest. So often surrealist cinema can come across as little more than a procession of incongruous imagery aimed at pretentious beret wearing intellectuals (and many may say this film is aimed at the same audience), but this is a deeply personal story resulting in a surprisingly powerful experience. The film, based semi-autobiographically on Terayama’s early life, is a phantasmagorical exploration of childhood, and most importantly the subjective memories of that period, and how it informs and shapes who we are. Filmmakers have repeatedly mined their own childhood for artistic gain (perhaps most startlingly in Tarkovsky’s The Mirror) yet Terayama’s approach is wholly different. At first his depiction of adolescence is idealised (although not without a dark undercurrent) yet in a bold second act twist he directly addresses this nostalgic dishonesty by introducing his adult self into these memories of childhood. Pastoral then becomes a film within a film as an adult director (not played by Terayama, which adds a further layer of subjectivity) interacts and is challenged by his 15-year old self. If the opening half of the film is hard enough to grasp this self-reflectivity adds an entirely new interpretation to the surreal imagery we have already witnessed.
The film openly challenges our perception of memory and attempts to directly reconcile with those memories and personal demons. Yet whilst it tackles familiar themes in regard to childhood (a sexual awakening, breaking away from possessive adult control and a desire to discover what lies beyond our own insular world) Terayama has even loftier ambitions. Set just after World War II, not only is the boy at the centre of the story in a state of transition but so is the country he inhabits. On the outskirts of his small village are train tracks and a circus full of freaks and depravity. It symbolises the fear and attractiveness of the new whilst the tracks provide the possibility of escape and national progress.
The film contains too many moments of striking brilliance to detail here but suffice to say it is a work of real visual beauty. Utilising coloured filters and bold staging, the film looks utterly unique. It is a film that regularly drifts from a dreamy and nostalgia-fuelled idyll to a near-nightmarish depiction of adolescence; skirting the line between beauty and vulgarity but always finding the perfect balance.
Pastoral: To Die in the Country is impossible to convey in words. It is a film that must be experienced first hand to understand its power, potency and downright strangeness. However, it is a film that is impossible to recommend unreservedly. There will be more people out there that hate the film than love it, such is the nature of its uncompromising direction and surrealism. Yet if you like to be challenged and enjoy experimental filmmaking (Jodorowsky is a decent reference point) then I urge you to seek out Terayama’s bewitching and unforgettable film.
Written by Adam Cook
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