Review: “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters”

Connor Tuttle ’27

Staff Writer

On Feb. 3, Trinity College Cinestudios screened “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters.” This was the first movie in a series of films directed by Paul Schrader, which will culminate in his on campus visit and talk on March 5. On the surface, the film is a biopic depicting the life of one of Japan’s most famous, yet strikingly controversial authors, Yukio Mishima. However, this film stands out against the saturated genre of biopics which picked up after Christopher Nolan’s “Oppenheimer.” It is not an embellished telling of some famous singers’ rise to fame, or an inspiring sports story to lift you up by your boot straps and inspire one to make it through an exam. Rather, it beautifully encapsulates Mishima’s ideology and ultra nationalism through three stylistically fragmented sections within the film.

The film is structured in four chapters, each fragmented within itself, flipping between Mishima’s last day, his upbringing, and vignettes of three novels. The set pieces for the novel segments are highly stylized yet minimalist in nature. Schrader uses bold colors and symmetry within the frame to enter the imagination and psyche of Mishima (Ken Ogata). It distinguishes the man himself from the myths he built to answer his deep anguish. The sets aren’t mere locations either and act as emotional diagrams to desire and obsession, common themes in Mishima’s writing. This genius move to turn his novels to film isn’t just an illustration of the stories for aesthetics, but a deep reflection on how Mishima thinks. All of his novels are intimate to him and his own identity as well as his struggles to find it. So, Schrader bridges the gap for viewers who may not be familiar with Mishima as an author. Beyond the striking visuals within the film, Philip Glass’s score through all the sections builds the emotional momentum, peaking in the climax of his life. It is also minimalist in nature and repeated through the film, acting almost as the heartbeat beneath everything happening on screen.

Looking to the core of the film, Schrader focuses less on the direct biography of Mishima and more the extremism within his mind. Schrader doesn’t shy away from Mishima’s eroticism and radical views on sexuality. Mishima traditionally ties sexual desire to domination, as well as having an erotic fixation on death and martyrdom. His queer desire is shown through shame and conflict. It is seen as destabilizing in nature, forcing him to wear a mask amongst society. Mishima becomes obsessed with the eroticism of death and links sexuality to the destruction of life and beauty, rather than any traditional domestic view. This leads into the themes of beauty. Similar to that of “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde, Mishima lived in fear of the inevitable decay of his body. Mishima found solace in death, freezing the body at its peak. This is shown through the section depicting “The Temple of the Golden Pavilion,” where the protagonist destroys the temple due to the extreme beauty of its existence becoming too unbearable. Additionally, Mishima found the gym and honing his muscles to be philosophical, as weakness is correlated to ugliness and true beauty is earned through pain.

Despite his ability to write, late in his life, Mishima turned to distrust writing, as words are empty in nature. He came to believe literature itself could produce no real change, especially not the radical change he wanted. Rather, only through the embodiment of belief and action can beauty and advancement take place. This all leads up to his attempted coup of the government and ritual suicide (seppuku) depicted in the film.

As a film, Schrader managed to pull off something spectacular, portraying a controversial Japanese figure with an all Japanese cast and mainly local Japanese crew. It doesn’t just stand out in the sea of biopics, but film as a whole. You can feel the heart, research, and passion that went into this film to make it as authentic as possible. Mishima himself is a man, who if he didn’t exist, this movie would be seen as far fetched and unrealistic. His novels push the boundary on depicting the ugliness of humanity with what might be the most beautiful prose I’ve read. Even when his beliefs or ideologies disturb or challenge the reader, his imagery and precision to the character’s psychological depth make his literary prowess impossible to ignore. Schrader shows his story with all its blemishes, while making a strong case the value of his work and life. As a viewer, it forces you to debate not just his life, but also dive into his work.