Eel, The (Blu-ray Review)
- Review Date: Apr 23, 2025
- Format: Blu-ray Disc
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Director
Shōhei ImamuraRelease Date(s)
1997 (April 15, 2025)Studio(s)
Imamura Productions/Shochiku Co., Ltd. (Radiance Films)- Film/Program Grade: B
- Video Grade: B
- Audio Grade: B
- Extras Grade: B-
Review
Director Shōhei Imamura was in the twilight of his life and his career before the release of The Eel (aka Unagi) in 1997. He hadn’t made a film in nearly a decade and many of the projects he was involved in never came to fruition due to lack of support. His early years of making films for Nikkatsu were long over, and he had gone on to make films that had reached international audiences—such as 1979’s Vengeance Is Mine, his re-telling of The Ballad of Narayama in 1983, and 1989’s Black Rain—but The Eel was his triumphant return to the world cinema stage. It was a major box office success in its native Japan and shared the coveted Palme d’Or with Abbas Kiarostami’s Taste of Cherry. It was also released at a time when Japanese cinema was shifting in many directions with different types of films. In some ways, it was a new renaissance, in which filmmakers like Imamura inadvertently found themselves to be a part of.
The Eel is loosely adapted from the Akira Yoshimura novel On Parole, with added thematic material from Shōhei Imamura’s 1966 film The Pornographers. In it, Takuro Yamashita (Kōji Yakusho) suspects that his wife Emiko (Terada Chiho) is unfaithful after receiving an anonymous letter detailing the affair. He comes home early from a fishing trip one day and confirms it, charging into the bedroom and stabbing her to death. He then calmly goes to the police station and turns himself in, whereupon he’s sent to prison for eight years before being granted two years out on parole. His parole officer, Reverend Nakajima Jiro (Fujio Tokita), takes him under his wing and helps him rebuild his life, starting with a defunct barber shop that he takes over as a business. Coming with him is his pet eel, which he’s had since prison, confiding in it rather than engaging with other people. One day while out catching food for it, he comes across the body of Keiko (Misa Shimizu), a young woman has attempted to take her own life. With the assistance of his new friends at the barber shop, they manage to get her to the hospital in time. Forever in his debt, she comes to work for him, brightening things up and improving the shop with her presence. Takuro attempts to conceal his past from her and his friends, while also trying to stay out of trouble, so as not to violate the terms of his parole, which turns out to be no easy task. Other members of the cast include Akira Emoto, Mitsuko Baishô, and Satō Makoto, among others.
Not all is as it seems in The Eel. Takuro’s psychology is complicated, to say the least. It’s not always clear whether or not everything that he experiences or visualizes is actually occurring, or a product of his own insecure, paranoid mind. The titular eel, for instance, represents many things, depending upon one’s interpretation. The most obvious of which is that it could be a symbol for Takuro’s self-doubt and inadequacies, especially after having seen his wife engaged in very pleasurable sex with another man before killing her. Later in the story, he goes on a fishing trip with the character of Takada and they spear an eel before Takuro surreptitiously lets it go. That night, Takuro has a nightmare about the eel and the spear running through it. You can draw your own conclusions, but that’s certainly a case study for Freudianism.
The Eel also deals with regret and redemption. Is Takuro worthy of starting a new life and finding happiness after committing such a horrible crime, or should he spend the rest of existence a tortured soul? This moral dilemma is most exemplified through the character of Takasaki (Akira Emoto), an ex-convict who continually berates Takuro for even trying to have a new life. But how much of his encounters with Takasaki are real is in doubt. The question is also raised whether or not the inciting letter was real in the first place. We’re never told who wrote that letter, even though a female voice does read it. In other words, our lead’s viewpoint can’t be entirely trusted.
Of course, all of these metaphoric underpinnings are nothing without the cast. Kōji Yakusho would, of course, become the face of Japanese cinema in late 1990s and 2000s with other performances in Shall We Dance?, Lost Paradise, Cure, Eureka, and Pulse, among many others. He would also re-team with Shōhei Imamura and his co-star Misa Shimizu for 2001’s Warm Water Under a Red Bridge, due almost exclusively to the success of The Eel. Tomorowo Taguchi, who has a small but pivotal role as Keiko’s former lover Eiji Dojima, began his career as the star of Testsuo: The Iron Man and its sequel. Mitsuko Baishô (Vengeance Is Mine, Kagemushu) and Show Aikawa (the Dead or Alive series) are also among the ensemble.
After the award-winning and financial success of The Eel, Shōhei Imamura re-cut the 117-minute original version of the film for a theatrical re-release later that same year, with a final running time of 134 minutes. The differences between the Theatrical and Director’s Cuts are not obvious at first glance. It’s only a matter 17 minutes, but like any alternate versions of a film, they each have their pros and cons. In the Director’s Cut, minor scenes are re-instituted, including a brief moment of Takuro sitting in a holding cell after his initial arrest, and a later scene in which he and Keiko share a pleasant hillside conversation (albeit one-sided) under the sun. Other additions are mostly extensions, including more character development between Jiro and Takuro, as well as longer conversations between Takada and Takuro, delving uneasily into Takuro’s past. We also get a little more information about Takuro’s skills as a barber and where he acquired them, as opposed to the Theatrical Cut which barely mentions it. Some of the biggest changes that affect the overall mood of the film include the deletion of unnecessary lines, such as the voiceover that reminds us that his wife’s lover drives a white sedan when he discovers it near their home; but also the trimming of the over-the-top, thriller-type music during the discovery of his wife’s adultery and the murder that follows. Silence definitely gives these moments more impact. In truth, the Theatrical Cut irons out the pacing, but some of the cuts seem arbitrary by comparison. Most folks will already be familiar with the readily-available Theatrical Cut, but the Director’s Cut adds more meat to the bone without spoiling the rest of the meal, and in some cases, actually improves it. They’re otherwise quite similar to each other. As always, your own mileage may vary.
The Eel was shot by cinematographer Shigeru Komatsubara on 35mm film, finished photochemically, and presented in the aspect ratio of 1.85:1. Radiance Films brings The Eel to Blu-ray for the first time featuring both the Theatrical and Director’s Cut versions of the film, presented separately on the same dual-layered BD-50 disc. The Director’s Cut was supplied to Radiance by Shochiku Co. Ltd., and the Theatrical Cut was created using footage from the Director’s Cut mixed with brief footage from a standard definition version in order to complete it. Encoding duties were handled by David Mackenzie of Fidelity in Motion. Nothing is said about the source or age of the high definition master that was used as a basis for both presentations, but it’s likely an older 2K scan of a later generation element. Despite the variances in footage and the two presentations sharing the same disc (likely on separate layers), it’s still a marked improvement over its DVD presentation in every way. Seamless branching would have been preferable, but David Mackenzie has done the best he can with the material, giving each presentation a similar and careful encode in order to maximize bitrates without leaving any digital noise or artifacts behind. Some telecine wobble and speckling is present, but nothing overly distracting. Color reproduction is good, especially in the daytime during outdoor scenes wherein greens and blues are rather potent. Blacks are also deep, with occasional crush, but contrast is solid overall. Both presentations are far from perfect, but they nevertheless top the film’s SD counterpart considerably.
Audio is included in Japanese mono LPCM with optional subtitles in English. It’s a limited track, for obvious reasons, but offers good support for dialogue, score, and sound effects. A mild hiss permeates the track, but everything otherwise sounds natural to the overall soundtrack.
The Radiance Films Limited Edition Blu-ray release of The Eel sits in a clear Amaray case with reversible artwork, featuring Radiance’s traditionally-styled artwork with new art by Time Tomorrow and a removable OBI strip along the spine, and artwork from the original Japanese theatrical release featuring English text on the reverse. Also included is 20-page insert booklet containing cast and crew information, a newly-translated interview with Shōhei Imamura from 1997 by Max Tesser, the essay The Long Way Back to Normality by Andrea Grunert, transfer notes, acknowledgments, release credits, and special thanks. This Limited Edition is available in 3,000 units only. The following disc-based extras are included:
- Tony Rayns on The Eel (HD – 27:31)
- Daisuke Tengan on The Eel (HD – 18:52)
- 1997: A Year to Remember (HD – 13:22)
- Trailer (Upscaled SD – 1:08)
The extras begin with a 2024 interview with Japanese film critic Tony Rayns, a familiar face and voice as seen and heard on many home video releases of Asian cinema. He expertly details the personal life and career of Shōhei Imamura and how The Eel fits into his overall filmography, particularly so late in his career. Next is another 2024 interview, this time with co-writer and son of Shōhei Imamura, Daisuke Tengan. He delves into the origins of the film and the thematics in play between the film’s characters. He also discusses the details of how the film was written at various stages, the state of the characters and how he saw them when writing them versus what ended up on screen, the hardships of independent filmmaking, and the success of the film. In 1997: A Year to Remember, Tom Mes provides a visual essay detailing the state of Japanese cinema leading up to and during 1997 when The Eel was released theatrically. Last is the film’s trailer. Not included from the Region 4 DVD from Madman Entertainment is a production stills gallery.
Many film fans who delve mostly into V-Cinema and J-Horror types of films from this era of Japanese cinema would be doing themselves a disservice by not seeking out something like The Eel. It’s a lovely film that’s challenging without the need to launch into full-blown surrealism, even if it does play with it a little here and there. Visual flaws aside, Radiance Films’ Blu-ray presentation is by far the best release of the film on physical media. Very much recommended.
- Tim Salmons
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