The Face of Another (1966) User Reviews

A Macabre, Melancholic Masterpiece

[reelreviewsandrecommendations · 8/10 · 13 March 2023]

Okuyama is an engineer whose face was horribly mutilated in a workplace accident. Feeling shunned by society and rejected by his wife, he shamefully hides his disfigurement behind layers of bandages. After consultation, a psychiatrist offers to make Okuyama a realistic prosthetic mask, to return some semblance of normality to his life. Okuyama accepts, despite the shrink's warning that the mask may alter his personality. Meanwhile, a similarly disfigured young nurse from Nagasaki travels to a seaside resort with her brother, where the depth of her disaffection with the uncaring world around her makes itself known in shocking and unexpected ways.

Based on Kobo Abe's novel of the same name, Hiroshi Teshigahara's 'The Face of Another' is a dark, intriguing drama examining notions of identity, appearance and personality, and how the three intersect. Abe's screenplay tackles these themes- as well as that of cultural identity- maturely and with great tact, while also retaining much narrative tension. In fact, if one wished to disregard the psychological and sociological aspects of the story entirely- interpreting the film simply as a horror with a lot of wordy dialogue- one could; and the impact of 'The Face of Another' wouldn't be much diminished.

It is a rewarding experience, however, postulating on the psychological questions raised by Abe's narrative, specifically whether or not one's personality is influenced by one's looks, and the extent to which one's looks informs one's quality of life. It is commonly accepted that physical appearance does have a meaningful impact on people's life experiences and opportunities. Researchers like Daniel Hamermesh posit that the traditionally handsome and beautiful generally have an easier time of things than their less attractive counterparts. At the same time, according to the theory of facultative personality calibration, personalities develop in a way that match other genetic traits, so that one who is more handsome will be more assertive or confident, and vice versa.

'The Face of Another' provokes contemplation around- and plays into- these ideas, as well as examining how Japanese cultural identity was irrevocably altered following WWII and the devastation of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Okuyama's loss of face and adoption of the mask suggests that one's face is not just a physical feature, but a means of communication with society and oneself. By losing this means of communication, Okuyama loses his connection to his original culture and sense of self. So too did the destruction of Nagasaki and Hiroshima alter the face of Japanese society, ensuring that post-war Japan was- in some ways- indistinguishable from pre-war Japan. In this regard, the film suggests that identity- both personal and cultural- is fluid, and heavily influenced by external factors.

The film inspires rumination around these notions, whilst stunning with its visuals. Hiroshi Segawa's cinematography and shot construction is striking and strange, heightening the eerie tone of proceedings. His work, heavy in visual metaphor, lends sequences- such as a breath-taking, multi-masked crowd scene- an odd but undeniable power. Utilizing a wide variety of stylizations- including bizarre zooms, x-rays and jump cuts- he keeps things feeling consistently fresh, innovative and off kilter. This is only compounded by Arata Isozaki and Masao Yamazaki's surrealist art direction, as well as Yoshi Sugihara's assured, experimental editing, which holds everything together masterfully.

One would be remiss not to discuss the score from Toru Takemitsu, which fluctuates between the macabre and the mournful, while always remaining melodic. The main theme- entitled The Waltz- is particularly atmospheric and haunting, reflecting through it's bittersweet melody Okuyama's fragile psychological state. Furthermore, Taichiro Akiyama's sterling efforts crafting all the masks must be mentioned, as there are a great many throughout the picture and each one is spectacularly insidious.

'The Face of Another' boasts a fine cast of actors all doing superlative work. Tatsuya Nakadai stars as Okuyama, bringing both sides of the fellow to life most efficaciously. Suppressing his characteristic charisma, he lays bare the crisis of personality Okuyama faces, creating a most memorable character in the process. Alongside him, Miki Irie showcases a great emotional perspicuity in her role as the disfigured nurse, stealing all the scenes she's in. Additionally, Mikijiro Hira consistently impresses as the psychiatrist and Machiko Kyo delivers a remarkably understated performance as Okuyama's wife- it's a pity she didn't have more screen time to further develop the character.

A sad film in some regards, a tense one in others; Hiroshi Teshigahara's adaptation of Kobo Abe's novel 'The Face of Another' has a lot to offer viewers. Featuring beautiful black and white cinematography from Hiroshi Segawa and a stirring score from Toru Takemitsu- as well as spellbinding art direction and tight editing- there is very little fault one can find with the picture. Powerfully acted and deftly directed throughout, 'The Face of Another' is a macabre, melancholic masterpiece.

THE FACE OF ANOTHER (Hiroshi Teshigahara, 1966) ***

[Bunuel1976 · 7/10 · 22 March 2006]

While the Japanese New Wave may not have been as well-known or as influential a movement as the French Nouvelle Vague, it yielded a mass of talented, independent and original film-makers spearheaded by Kaneto Shindo - of ONIBABA (1964) fame - and including Shohei Imamura, Yasuzo Masumura, Toshio Matsumoto, Nagisa Oshima, Masahiro Shinoda, Seijun Suzuki, Hiroshi Teshigahara and Koji Wakamatsu.

Until now, like most film buffs, I had only known Hiroshi Teshigahara through his one undisputed international critical success, WOMAN IN THE DUNES (1964), which had also made him the first ever Asian film-maker to be nominated for a Best Direction Academy Award. Even so, I have long cherished the thought of watching more of his admittedly small oeuvre (just 8 feature films in 40 years!) and now, thanks to the U.K.'s "Masters Of Cinema" DVD label, I caught up with the films Teshigahara made just before and after tasting international success.

As a result of WOMAN IN THE DUNES, Teshigahara was here allowed to use for the first time in his career two of Japan's biggest box-office stars of the time, Tatsuya Nakadai, a fixture of the second half of Kurosawa's career and Machiko Kyo, star of RASHOMON (1950) and UGETSU (1953); the two stars from WOMAN IN THE DUNES, then - Eiji Okada and Kyoko Kishida - also appear in supporting roles. As with most of Teshigahara's films, Toru Takemitsu provides the impeccable musical accompaniment, suitably sinister and majestically lush as the occasion requires; Takemitsu also puts in an appearance in a lengthy bar sequence towards the middle of the film.

The story, based as were Teshigahara's first four movies, on famed Japanese writer and friend Kobo Abe's novel, deals with a businessman who, after losing his facial features in an unspecified laboratory explosion, resorts to plastic surgery and gradually starts to question his identity. The fact that he specifically asks that his new face be molded from that of a complete stranger turns out to be a fateful one: it isn't enough to fool two perceptive females who cross his path - his own wife, whom he seduces under his new identity, shattering his new-found confidence by stating that she was aware of him being her husband all along and the crazed daughter of a hotel manager (the amiable Kurosawa regular Minoru Chiaki) to which he relocates after the surgery recognizes the new tenant as the heavily-bandaged one who had previously lived there; in fact, the arrival at the hotel of the man in his different identities is filmed the same way with the exact incidents occurring each time.

The subject matter cannot but elicit comparisons with other films dealing with facial transplants and loss of identity and, in my case, I was instantly reminded of Georges Franju's EYES WITHOUT A FACE (1959; one of my favorite films) and John Frankenheimer's SECONDS (1966). Although I'd say that both these films are even better at hitting their targets, Teshigahara's film is certainly worthy of such company and, in retrospect, what differentiates it from the others is its boldly cerebral take on the material, complete with shots of such utter strangeness that they remain effortlessly imprinted in one's mind: the very first shot of the laboratory full of inanimate limbs floating in vats of water, the introduction of the main character in a sequence shot in X-ray vision(!), the eerie, inexplicable shot of the laboratory seemingly engulfed by an over-sized bundle of hair floating in space, a supporting "fictional" character (more on this later) struck by a deadly ray of atomic radiation when he draws the curtains to look upon the scene of his sister's suicide and, perhaps best of all, the haunting night-time finale in which the main character and his doctor are surrounded by a horde of "faceless" people.

It has to be said that THE FACE OF ANOTHER, as with a lot of post-war Japanese cinema, is informed by the traumatic WWII atomic bomb attacks on Nagasaki and Hiroshima. The protagonist apparently goes to watch one such film at the cinema (an occurrence given away by a short but sudden change in aspect ratio from full-frame to widescreen): it deals with a facially-scarred young woman who, after having an apparently incestuous relationship with her brother, drowns herself. The story of that film is incongruously but seamlessly interspersed within the main narrative, serving as a parallel commentary on the increasingly ambivalent actions of the Tatsuya Nakadai character.

One is hopeful for an English-subtitled DVD release of Hiroshi Teshigahara's fourth and last collaboration with Kobo Abe, THE MAN WITHOUT A MAP (1968), somewhere down the line...

Navigations of the New...

[Xstal · 8/10 · 30 December 2022]

An accident at work has taken place, the result means you are left, without a face, only bandages for cover, they envelope and they smother, your existence now in limbo, an unfilled space. An opportunity arises to evolve, to put the past behind, to be absolved, present with a new profile, posturing with a new style, a future about which, you can revolve.

A fascinating piece of film making that has many layers and interpretations. For me, I see Mr. Okuyama representing post war Japan, the accident that removes his features the raw wound of two atomic bombs, the bandages a place to hide while the country considers its future and the new face, the new Japan, that finds a way to integrate itself into a modern world, while holding on to traditions and cultures that take a little more time to retune as the situation clarifies. Any film with Machiko Kyô performing is always a bonus too.

Personality determines Appearance? Or Appearance determines Personality?

[Prion · 10/10 · 12 February 1999]

This is a film that has to be rescued for all moviegoers.

I saw "The Face of Another" (Tanin no kao) at the National Gallery of Art's series, "A New Wave in Japan: 1955-1974," and was mesmerized by this "elegantly spooky and enigmatic examination of identity." This is the third of four Hiroshi Teshigahara (director)/Kobo Abe (writer)/ Toru Takemistu (composer) collaborations. They have reached nearly the same perfection in the fusion of image, sound, and subject in this work as in their brilliant work, "Woman in the Dunes."

A businessman (Tatsuya Nakadai), whose face has been scarred in an industrial fire, is receiving psychotherapy from a psychiatrist (Mikijiro Hira). He succeeds in persuading the psychiatrist to make a mask for him, amazingly lifelike but completely different from his own face. Soon after being fitted for the mask, he tries to seduce his wife (Machiko Kyo) and succeeds; she promptly falls for the handsome stranger. He becomes angry at her weakness for a handsome man, but she claims she was aware all along that he was her husband and believed that both were just masquerading together as most couples usually do in different ways. She tells him that it is not she but he who has worried excessively about his appearance and who has spoiled his relationship with others. Strangely enough, his personality seemingly begins to change after he puts on the mask as if the mask has influenced his personality. And, he comes to realize that his new identity does not enable him to reintegrate into society after all.

The film also has a touching subplot. A good-natured young woman (Miki Irie, now Mrs. Seiji Ozawa), the left side of whose face is beautiful, but the right side of which is disfigured, has been hurt by others' inquisitive eyes and insults. She has been shunned and never been treated as a lady by any man other than her older brother. One day, she and her brother take a trip to a seaside resort, and in the hotel, she asks him to make love to her, hiding from him the intention of killing herself the next morning. He accepts her surprising request. During the lovemaking, he kisses her on the right side of her face. Her brother is the only man who can understand her pain and solitude and who can love the ugliest part of her appearance because of his deep love for her.

After seeing this film, questions arise. What is Identity? How is it established? What is the relationship among Identity, Personality, and Physical Appearance? Does Personality determine Physical Appearance? Or, does Physical Appearance determine Personality? Abe and Teshigahara seem to challenge our common beliefs about this.

The story is easy to follow, unlike "Woman in the Dunes." The dialogue is sophisticated enough as to be quotable.

Takemitsu's musical score is outstanding. He has created a sharp contrast between sweet, sad music, which represents dance music for the masquerade, and deep, eerie "music," which represents the reality of faceless people.

I hope this film will enjoy a revival and come to video or DVD in the near future.

Filmmaker's Purpose and Character Arc

[gentendo · 10/10 · 13 November 2007]

In the search for self-discovery, one who suffers from an inferiority complex cannot mask who they really are from the public. This film brought certain questions to my mind: Which is worse? Suffering the physical and external conditions of a burned face, or, suffering the emotional and internal conditions of low self-worth? In the beginning, Mr. Okuyama is a self-loathing and debased man who in consequence of his own self-rejection polarizes the relationships he has with others. The laboratory incident that subsequently disfigures his face causes Okuyama to finally have reason to unleash the inner-poison he has festered inside for a long time. The inner-poison he carries is the self-absorbed and accumulated hatred he has for himself. He tries to blame his wife for not showing the affection he wants from her by stating that it is because of his external ugliness that she rejects him, when really this is a mere mask for his internal ugliness he has not yet accepted. Okuyama's arc will deal with his transformation from reproached and depraved thinker to confident and strong human participant.

After receiving his new face from a complete stranger, he "allows the mask to take over" and become who he always wanted to become—a confident human participant. But it seems only a transient form of hiding from who he really is. Soon, his true and inner-self begins leaking through the mask; as seen when the retarded hotel daughter realizes who he is, and, when his attempts to seduce his wife fail. The attempts fail because she claims she already knew it was him despite his cover-up. When he realizes that the mask is wearing off, he tries to resort to alcohol to cover up his insecurities. Despite his efforts to cover-up who he really is, the truth of his character haunts him like a shadow that doesn't depart.

The most pervasive ideology that I observed within the Japanese culture was the idea of isolation. During the beginning credit sequence, seas of people are shown mindlessly crowded together and slowly walking along the city streets of Japan. With so many blank faces to observe and not a clear direction on who to focus on, the viewer becomes anxious and feels rather isolated—not connected to any of the people shown. It brought to mind how seemingly insignificant all of us sometimes feel when walking in a crowd of people, asking ourselves: "Who am I to be anything important when others are more capable, beautiful, and intelligent as I?" As the film demonstrates, it is a personal subject matter on the nature of identity. The Japanese seem to feel that the search for one's identity is one that is lonely, fearful, and full of angst and despair. All of these ideas are exposed through Mr. Okuyama—a man who has not accepted who he is and attempts to mask his true identity from situation to situation.

Further evidence of this isolation is seen in a very literal rendering of the idea of losing identity. Seas of people are seen once again walking along the city street towards Okuyama and his psychiatrist, this time, however, with no faces at all. The psychiatrist says, "The pathway to freedom is a lonely journey." To me this spoke of how when one becomes enlightened to the truth of the world (that is, the way it really is), the lonelier it becomes because of the fact that most people don't question their identity. They just seem to be mindlessly drifting from situation to situation, never once taking thought or examining the nature of their existence. The loneliness also increases because the enlightened doesn't have anyone to share his/her experience with that will understand let alone accept their position. It reminded me of Plato's cave. Okuyama is attempting to break free of the chains that bind him inside the dark and damp lit cave (i.e. the world and his place in it) and see the truth and beauty of the outside world. The journey to do so is a difficult one—full of doubt, discouragement, feelings of low self-worth, and confusion.

The idea of internal and external beauty is also an important idea inside this culture. The seemingly insignificant side-story of the beautiful woman with the scarred face helped demonstrate this idea. When she is seen walking along the city street and flirtatious chants are thrown her way, she turns her face in their direction and immediately the chants cease. They become aware of her external ugliness—their once playful manners have now turned into cold and harsh rejections. The Japanese culture (like most) seems to be suggesting that the world has not yet learned to accept inner beauty, but is still judging the books by their covers. The same judgment is intertwined into Okuyama's character. He is constantly thinking that others are judging him and that they will reject the "monster" that he supposedly is. When he receives a new face entirely, he still believes that others, namely his wife, are rejecting him. It goes to prove one thing: No matter how attractive the masks we wear appear outwardly, if the soul is scarred, we will still be ugly on the outside.

Lyrically Creepy...

[AkuSokuZan · 10/10 · 26 July 2001]

movie about self perception and the bond between the mind and the body...soundtrak really set the mood for the increasing horror in the story line. Nakadai downplays his role to give an overall flawless performance. Watch for some really good lines which will undoubtedly force the viewer to start thinking right away which may distract from the plot (but hey, it's an artsy masterpiece right?)...There is a lot of experimentation in the cinematography such as a door which opens and reveals a cluster of hair in ocean tides...this effect serves to foreshadow the action but may in the view of modern audiences comes across as trying TOO hard to be an art film. I left the movie still trying to link the two parallel story lines in the film and you may too...but don't worry you get two stories for the price of one...DO NOT watch this movie in the dark even though there is nothing VISUALLY terrifying it is still a great horror film...

The Arbitrariness Of Identity

[nin-chan · 9/10 · 12 January 2008]

Teshigahara has never shied away from examining the more unsettling dimensions of human experience. With the trilogy of full-length collaborations with Kobo Abe, Teshigahara encapsulated the Kafkaesque hellishness of quotidian life, the yawning, gaping chasm of emptiness that lies beneath the veneer of stability.

The ubiquitous influence of the French absurdists/existentialists, Kafka and Dostoevsky looms large here- one is reminded most often of Sartre's "No Exit", R.D. Laing's "Knots" and Dostoevsky's "Crime And Punishment". Sartre, Laing and Abe all underline how little autonomy we really have over constituting our own identities- often, we may find that we exist only as beings-for-others, entirely 'encrusted' within personas not of our own making, but assigned to us. For Okuyama and the unnamed scarred woman, they are imprisoned in their vulgar corporeality. Met with revulsion everywhere, they come to accept ugliness as an indelible mark of their being. Trapped within the oppressive confines of flesh, they cannot evade the pity and repugnance that their countenances arouse. It is little wonder that Okuyama becomes self-lacerating and embittered.

Throughout the film, the viewer confronts how precarious identity truly is- the assumption that selves are continuous and linear from day-to-day rests entirely on the visage. The doctor's paroxysm of inspiration in the beer hall affords a glimpse into the anarchic potential of his terrible invention, one that would rend civilization asunder. Indeed, the final epiphany is particularly unnerving- "some masks come off, some don't". We all erect facades, smokescreens of self that we maintain with great effort.

Beneath the epidermis, as Okuyama discovers, is vacuity and nihility. This is likely the explanation for Okuyama's gratuitous, Raskolnikov-esquire acts of crime at the conclusion of the film- faced with the frontierless void of freedom, he desires to be apprehended and branded by society. Integration into society, after all, requires a socially-assigned, unified role, constituted by drivers licenses, serial numbers and criminal records. Without such things, Okuyama is a non-entity.

Aesthetically, the film exhibits all the rigour and poetry of Teshigahara's other work. Cocteau, Ernst and Duchamp, in particular, are notable wellsprings for the film's visual grammar. Literate, expressionistic and profoundly disorienting, this might be my favorite Teshigahara work.

Visually striking, but falls a little short of great

[gbill-74877 · 7/10 · 1 July 2019]

I loved the premise, appreciated the philosophy, and enjoyed some of the avant-garde bits of filmmaking here, but I don't think this film quite lived up to its full potential, and it didn't fully connect with me.

From the start, there are existential themes of isolation and absurdity, and the man's condition reminded me of Gregor Samsa waking up and discovering he was a giant bug. With his face heavily bandaged, he's alienated from everyone around him, including his wife, who shrinks from his touch. The film explores identity, acceptance, and whether the mask or persona we adopt liberates or controls us. The minor parallel story of the young woman with the scar on her face also deals with a mask of sorts, and isolation.

Existentialism was common after WWII, and perhaps heightened in Japan by its having lost the war, and gone through more dramatic changes politically and psychologically. Maybe the young woman in the minor story, with burns apparently suffered in childhood at Nagasaki, is a symbol for the country's scars, and its identity fundamentally changing. Similarly, maybe the man losing his face from an accident at work is a symbol for the modern or corporate world changing us, as we work as cogs in a machine.

I loved to think about those things, but the film doesn't expand on them as profoundly as it could have. Instead of a character arc that shows some form of change in the man over time, it gives us mostly dialogue which doesn't land as philosophically as I think it was intended, and commits the sin of telling us instead of showing us in the process. The doctor gives us dire warnings about far more changes than we actually see. Having the man's primary focus be to seduce his wife while disguised in his new mask was unimaginative and uninspired, though I did like thinking about the irony of this being the opposite of love, which should involve an unmasking and getting to one another's 'true self.' There are also banal bits like women putting on make-up being yet another form of mask. As for the parallel story, with the incest, rising sun, and oblivion, I think there is symbolism and some level of desperation or despair here, but it's not strong, and narratively it probably should have been at least loosely integrated with the main story.

Overall though, the film is well worth seeing. The production value is high, with that ultra-cool doctor's office, and the assortment of creative visual tricks director Hiroshi Teshigahara gives us, including freeze frames and surreal imagery. The striking scene in the crowd towards the end is also fantastic, and the film's best. My favorite line to ponder was this one: "I wonder if we see the true face of a gem when it's polished, or in the rough."

One of the greatest horror films ever made

[fertilecelluloid · 9/10 · 4 December 2006]

An extraordinary, surreal drama from Hiroshi Teshigahara. After his face is mutilated in an industrial accident, the insecure Mr. Okuyama (Tatsuya Nakadai) walks around the house with his bandaged-wrapped head debating the nature of identity with his wife (Machiko Kyo). His psychiatrist (Mikijiro Hira) proposes creating a life-like mask shaped from from a real person (Hisashi Igawa) for Okuyama to wear. Initially wary of his new face, which can only be worn in twelve hour stretches, Okuyama tests its ability to rebirth his identity by interacting with a mentally handicapped girl and making an attempt to seduce his wife. A parallel story focuses on the life of a sad, young woman (Miki Irie) whose face is shockingly scarred on one side. Teshigahara cleverly introduces us to her in a tracking shot that only shows her beautiful side. Living with her brother, the only man who does not tease her about her appearance, she craves his attention and acceptance, and attempts to give herself to him with dire consequences.

Exploring similar territory to Franju's "Eyes Without A Face" and The Twilight Zone episode, "Eye of the Beholder", "Face of Another" is a superior film, in my opinion, and ranks as one of the greatest horror films ever made. It is, first and foremost, a film of fascinating ideas and concepts, a deep exploration of human nature and the way we see ourselves and the world. The character of Mr. Okuyama is trapped in an identity conundrum that every human, at some stage in their lives, will relate to.

Styistically, there are elements (whether accidental or intentional) of Bergman, Bunuel, Lang, Franju and Wakamatsu here. The film's sets and spaces are both practical (Okuyama's apartment) and theatrical (the psychiatric hospital). The imagery is both nightmarish and clinical, while the special make-up effects are subtly convincing and delightfully grotesque. The director uses theater-style lighting techniques, fading lights up and down to alter the mood and isolate the characters when necessary.

There is a subdued erotic subtext that acts as a striking counterpoint to the bizarre development of the story. Nothing feels derivative or hackneyed. One of the final sequences, where Okuyama finds himself in a crowd of the Faceless, is a chilling passage of horrific cinema.

My highest recommendation.

Visual Trickery Disguises Narrative Weakness

[bensonj · 22 February 2017]

James Quandt's strident narration of the "video essay" that accompanies the Criterion release of THE FACE OF ANOTHER complains about the reception the film received in the United States on its initial release. He quotes the critics of the time: "extravagantly chic," "arch," "abstruse," "hermetic," "slavishly symbolic," and "more grotesque than emotionally compelling." Stop right there! These critics knew what they were talking about.

The film combines several hoary and not particularly profound narrative contrivances. Here's a man attempting to seduce his wife, pretending to be another person--this was old when THE GUARDSMAN first went on stage and has been done countless times. Then there's the classic mad scientist, presented with very little nuance, delving into Things that Man Was Not Meant to Know. Related to this is that the story is only able to exist by grossly underestimating man's ability to adapt to the unknown. (An example is the 1952 science fiction story "Mother" by Alfred Coppel in which astronauts all return insane when confronted with the vastness of space.) These primitive tropes are shamelessly built on a simple narrative situation that is completely unable to carry them: a man with a disfigured face getting facial reconstruction. This happens all the time, so what's to "not meant to know"? If all this isn't enough, Teshigahara tacks on an unrelated, completely separate set of characters in their own undeveloped narrative that even Quandt thinks doesn't work. The dialogue by author/screenwriter Kobo Abe is risible, sounding like something out of a grade-B forties horror film.

To disguise the paucity of the film's narrative, Teshigahara has tricked it up with what Quandt admiringly calls "its arsenal of visual innovation: freeze-frames, defamiliarizing close-ups, wild zooms, wash-away wipes, X-rayed imagery, stuttered editing, surrealist tropes, swish pans, jump cuts, rear projection, montaged stills, edge framing, and canted, fragmented, and otherwise stylized compositions." These arty-farty gimmicks (and more) are, of course, hardly "innovations." They were endemic in the early sixties. Their extensive use seems a vain attempt to disguise the film's shallow content. Quandt also sees great significance in the many repetitions in the film: I see only repetition.

But even that is not the film's worst problem. Teshigahara often seems like a still photographer lost in a form that requires narrative structure. His inability to develop a sustained narrative makes the film seem far longer than its already-long two hours plus. Things happen, but the film doesn't really progress. The end result is little more than a compendium of tricks and narrative scraps borrowed from others.

Interesting, but also amazingly unpleasant

[planktonrules · 7/10 · 30 December 2006]

The film begins by showing a man with his face wrapped up with bandages--a lot like Claude Rains in THE INVISIBLE MAN. However, his face is wrapped because an industrial accident burned off his face and he is naturally severely depressed because of this. Later, he goes to a specialist who says he can make a lifelike mask that will help him look quite normal, but he also is apprehensive about how the mask will effect the man emotionally. To me, this made no sense and only betrayed that this doctor must have been given the script! After all, a guy has no face and yet the doctor is worried this may adversely affect his mind?! While this IS what happened ultimately, it was telegraphed way too easily and reduced the impact of what later occurs--which is NOT good.

There is another parallel plot as well, but it isn't so well defined or easy to follow. A pretty woman has a bad burn on her face and although she seems a lot more confident and happy than the man without a face, she is miserable and lonely--so much so that she can't have a normal relationship with a man. Ultimately, she and her understanding brother have sex and she feels guilty and kills herself. Boy, talk about an upbeat message! Well, although this is a truly disgusting movie in some ways, I have got to hand it to those responsible for the film for making a very original film. In particular, the final scene with the crowd is amazing and well-conceived. While on some levels it resembles movies such as MAD LOVE, the film differs because it deals with topics that are generally considered taboo--such as incest and sexual assault. For this reason, this is DEFINITELY not a film you should let your kids see!! Additionally, while TECHNICALLLY well-made, this is an awfully repellent film--one I think most people would dislike intensely. If you have a strong stomach, then perhaps the film is for you.

A flawless character study.

[dead47548 · 10/10 · 9 January 2008]

A brutal commentary on self-image and the way that appearances can change the attitude and ideals of a person that is one of the best films I've ever seen. The way that Okuyama changes throughout the film is incredible. He starts off as a brutally wounded man, who is afraid to go out in public due to his horrible disfigurement. He realizes how important looks are and all he wants is a new face so that he can blend back into society and be with his wife again. There's no desire to be attractive or important, he just wants to be normal. But once he gets his new face, his attractive appearance turns him into a completely different man. He buys flashy clothes and walks around with an attitude of superiority and importance in a world where he is really just a stranger. The film does a remarkable job of showing just how important appearance truly is, even if you think you can look beyond it. This is shown through Okuyama's wife, who pretends like she loves him even though he is horribly disfigured, but she ends up refusing his sexual advances due to it. Teshigahara uses bleak tones and minimalist sets as a way to show the isolation that society creates do to it's one-dimensional view of forming opinions on people merely due to appearance. These settings also do a great job of focusing the viewer on the characters instead of flashy visuals and elaborate sets.

I thought that the Psychiatrist was also a very complex character as he becomes more and more interested in his experiment with Okuyama's new face and less interested in Okuyama himself. He becomes greedy and selfish in his desire to mass produce the masks, but Okuyama's greed compels him to reject the Psychiatrist's wishes and look out merely for himself. This greed makes him a very dangerous man who is hanging on the edge of a breakdown through most of the film, until an encounter with his wife finally sets him off. It's the Psychiatrist's greed, though, that ends up being the true horror of the film. Okuyama realizes the dangerous monster that this mask has turned him into, and does the only thing he can think of to stop him from harming the world. It's the Psychiatrist's greed, though, that unleashes the beast of Okuyama into the world which leads to the abrupt and shattering finale. The paradox of a physical monster versus a psychological monster is absolutely sensational. In the beginning he is deformed on the outside, but as he becomes normal and beautiful on the outside, he ends up being a terrible monster internally. There is only one thing that I can really complain about, and that is the entire story of the "Facially scarred young woman". All of her scenes felt really out of place and added nothing to the fantastic commentary and intelligence of the plot. Everything with her was just unnecessary, but this was just a mere chink in the grand masterpiece that the film embodies as a whole.

whiny faceless guys complains

[CLEO-8 · 7/10 · 16 January 2005]

This is a nice movie about a whiny faceless complaining. There is another half faceless who has her face licked by her brother before walking into the ocean to die. the whiny faceless has a nice beard which he uses to try to trick a retard girl. his wife is not impressed. i give it 7. the doctor is a sicko and wants everyone to be faceless because he says there would be no crime that way. i don't get what he meant by that. i guess he's referring to the low crime rate in china. i don't know what i meant by that. anyway, it makes u think a lot. i suggest you get your hands on a copy of this gem. It's very cerebral in that way. Sometimes when i was watching this movie, i couldn't help thinking if i had the power to change my face, who i would try to seduce. i don't think it would be my wife like this guy did, mostly because i don't have a wife. if you are going for a faceless theme, this movie makes a good double feature with Eyes Without A Face. that's a french film. This movie should not be confused with the Mel Gibson classic Man Withoug A Face.

Smoke and mirrors

[ropenico · 3/10 · 10 September 2017]

I get it: The premise of a man whose face is disfigured in an accident and then covered by a life-like mask serves as a plot device to explore the relationship between external appearance and character. Contrived and pretentious is how this theme is handled in the film, starting with the opening narration that is so clever it makes no sense at all. Things do not get better as the film plods on. The character of the psychiatrist (!!!) who developed the mask is particularly annoying: his incessant pseudo philosophical drivel was driving me crazy. No wonder his human guinea pig suffers a breakdown and eventually does him in (we are expected to believe that - just as the psychiatrist had predicted - the new handsome face changed the man's personality and made him do nasty things).

But what personality change are we talking about when the main character is obnoxious to begin with? While his face is still all bandaged up, all he does is self loathing and accusing his wife of rejection. To prove himself right he then uses the fancy mask to seduce his wife only to call her out how easily she gave in to another man. Predictably she says she knew it was him all along. That is actually one of the few plausible ideas in an otherwise vacuous script: after all his body, voice and mannerisms have not changed. But why did not she say so upfront? Ah, right, then there would be no dramatic conflict!

I know, it is all supposed to be very profound, symbolic and what have you, but the film tries so hard to be high-brow that it ended up having the opposite effect on me. The much celebrated aesthetics felt calculated and ostentatious, a mere display of visual gimmickery. Then perhaps evoking the feelings of anger and alienation in the viewer was the whole point.

Not science fiction

[Atavisten · 9/10 · 5 April 2005]

Mr. Okuyama is involved in an accident at work which melts off his face and this understandably is constantly nagging him. This makes a mark on the relationship with his wife as he talks out at her about how miserable he is and what a monster he has become. He then talks his psychiatrist into making him a new face (which was quite easily done since the psychiatrist has had these kind of thoughts before) and he then goes on 'vacation'.

This is so excellent in every way. It is not a sci-fi movie, but in feel it sometimes comes close to. The images are quite surreal at times, the music is out of this world and some of the sets are not to be found in real life.

The editing is masterfully done, switching between main story and a parallel story about a girl with a similar problem, as well as switching between hand-held camera (not too shaky though), still pictures and still standing camera. The pictures of Segawa Hiroshi fits 35mm nicely, sometimes manipulating the background like I haven't seen before for example when the psychiatrist and Mr. Okayama is talking at the club and the crowd behind get 'invisible' by lighting.

Kyou Machiko did a terrific job in Ozu's 'Ukigusa' and likewise here. Too bad we don't see that much of her. Nakudai Tatsuya plays well as the mask. I don't know exactly what was special effects and not, but it was hard to tell.

Author and writer of screenplay Abe Koubou, director Teshigahara Hiroshi and Takemitsu Touru was behind another favourite of mine; 'Suna no Onna'. They also made 'Moetsukita Chizu' and I cant wait to get my hands on it!!

Dark and morbid but wholly enthralling

[Prof-Hieronymos-Grost · 9/10 · 13 November 2008]

After an industrial accident that leaves his face disfigured for life, Mr. Okuyama (Tatsuya Nakadai)begins to question the meaning of life and his own identity, should he keep working, will his disgusted wife ever sleep with him again. His psychotherapist offers him the chance to avail of an illegal medical practice that he has invented, it's a mask moulded from the face of another, that Okuyama can wear to live life a little more normally. The mask gives him a new lease of life, but his therapist warns him that the mask could take over and influence him to do evil things. As the mask takes control Okuyama can't resist but to give in to his baser instincts, his main plan being, to seduce own wife, that he believes may be cheating on him anyway. With thematic echoes of Franju's Les Yeux sans visage and even Delmer Daves Dark Passage, Teshigahara delivers his expressionistic adaptation of Kôbô Abe's novel with style, the results being a dark and epic tale that will haunt its viewers. Its full of inventive visuals and clever tricks with sound, which along with Tôru Takemitsu's superb score contribute wonderfully to the theme of how fragile identity really is and how the masks we all wear hide our true beings and souls. There's also a secondary story of an unnamed facially deformed girl, who is also struggling to cope with her disfigurements and her tragedy is equally moving.

"If we all wore masks there would be no such thing as betrayal or trust...."

[hknakna · 9/10 · 27 January 2008]

I have just watched "The face of another" twice, and am still feeling the reverberations of it's meaning. The emotional/psychological insights of Abe and Teshigahara, spoken through the characters of Okuyama and the psychiatrist, will give you more than enough to ponder. What are we in relationship to others if we are faceless; characterless? How are we to measure ourselves if our experience has no relativity to the world outside? Right from the beginning, the film establishes it's goal of revealing, heartbreakingly, the insecurity of the individual. Okuyama tries hard to laugh at his fate but the truth of his dependence on acceptance wears him thin and forces his well meaning wife and colleagues to the brink of their own prejudices. Tatsuya Nakadai, perfectly takes Okuyama from voluntary, shamed exile to hiding in plain sight, seeming to miss how that transformation might have occurred. While Mikijiro Hira goes for the ride, with a scientists abandon for the experiment, despite his very clear understanding of the pitfalls of invisibility.

There is a small story within the larger one, that of a young girl whose face, on one side, has been horribly disfigured (the other side is startlingly beautiful) by the bomb at Nagasaki. The first viewing of this left me feeling that this section was curious but disjointed. The second viewing had me considering, a bit more, some of the accompanying imagery that we see in these scenes. What really stands out are the images of soldiers in an asylum, the fire range and the strangely pictorial images of her and her brother at the beach. There is also her constant fear of another war. I began to see her story as a metaphor for the changing, perhaps now horribly disfigured face, of Japan itself. Coupling this idea with some of the urban crowd scenes in the main story or the body parts in vitrines in the doctor's office I began to feel the two stories weave together.

For the avid film lover, this movie is also a treat for the eyes with stunning set designs, doppelgangers, mirrored scenes and well placed, well timed editing twists.

A must see!!!

More poignant now than ever

[tomgillespie2002 · 8/10 · 24 July 2011]

Mr. Okuyama (Tatsuya Nakadai) is a physically and emotionally wounded man. After an industrial accident at work, his face has been scarred and mutilated beyond recognition, and even his wife rejects him, even though she says his physical appearance doesn't matter. It has left him bitter and angry, until his psychiatrist Dr. Hira (Mikijiro Hira) comes up with a way to fashion a 'face mask' that will give him the appearance of having a completely normal face, albeit with a few joining marks. Hira doesn't do this just out of kindness, he is fascinated how this new face will alter Okuyama's personality and way of life.

The Face of Another is a fascinating film that highlights the social attitudes to physical appearance. There are hundreds of films and morality tales that teach you that it is inner beauty that counts, and once you allow this to shine then your physical attractiveness becomes irrelevant. Everyone knows that this is bullshit, so its refreshing to see a film that makes it clear from the outset that physical appearance has a massive part to play in society. Okuyama's new face, which is an attractive one, changes him so much that he takes on an almost dual identity. Dr. Hira delights in telling him that he has bought flashy new clothes, something he was never concerned with before. It becomes clear that whilst before Okuyama merely wanted to be normal again and fit back in society, his new face is engulfing him, and to be 'normal' simply isn't enough anymore.

As with many of the Japanese New Wave film-makers of the 1960's-70's, director Hiroshi Teshigahara takes some bold steps and sneaks in some surrealist and art-house values in a movie that is otherwise played relatively straight. A 'fictional' character appears every now and then throughout (she is first imagined by Okuyama's wife as a character in a movie); one side of her face is scarred and burned. She appears quite rarely, but seems to serve as an alternative to Okuyama's increasingly vain soul. Another scene seems a ball of hair that floats in the air, unnoticed by the people in the laboratory. I have no idea what it meant, and couldn't really admit to it being wholly successful, but it certainly got my attention nonetheless.

A powerful, disturbing, and poignant drama/horror from the greatest era in Japanese cinema. The film seems all the more important now, 45 years on, in a world where a botox injection can be as easy as buying a pack of cigarettes, and where physical 'beauty' is less a bonus than a necessity.

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Gripping but lacking resolution

[Felonious-Punk · 6/10 · 22 September 2010]

This is amazing cinema all the way through, in story, in sound editing, in cinematography, in acting, in lighting, and editing. The story is all about a lonesome disfigured man, and feels like it could have been written by Tennessee Williams or Ernest Hemingway. The direction was trippy and haunting in the way that Roger Corman movies are. It's like a precursor to "Abre los ojos"/"Vanilla Sky", but with a pace all its own, a more thoughtful, careful pace, that builds subtly. But just like those movies, this one also has no clear resolution. After all that arduous torture, we are left without any shining piece of truth, without any humor, but beyond that, we are not left even with any lasting issues to discuss or contemplate. We are only left with a sick, hopelessness. That's why I say, it's technically and dramatically alluring, but without payoff. I'm glad I watched it once though.

Goes well with "Memento".

Amazing Horror Film on The Loss of Identity

[Ziglet_mir · 9/10 · 30 May 2020]

The face is the door to the soul.

This film is riddled with deep instances of philosophy that question the boundaries of how humans think and feel. A man disfigured from an awful accident begins to talk with his psychiatrist and comes up with the idea to create a new face (as he cannot come to terms with how he is treated with his destroyed face). This new face will supposedly give him new life; a new way to reintegrate into society or... is that really his main intention? Once they come up with a successful donor and transplant, the doctor eventually warns him that if left on for too long the face will take over his old personality. Leading us to the all-time question: Which is worse? To suffer the physical pain of a burned face, or, to suffer the emotional turmoil of low self-worth? Overall, an incredible horror film that takes identity loss head-on.

Some amazing scenes of note: the doctor's lab seemingly engulfed in something that resembles a head of hair, the intro to the film the main character watches, body parts getting thrown into a vat of water, a theatrically lit drinking scene at the bar, the face transformation, and finally, the walk on the street into the crowd of faceless people. Teshigahara stands out once again as a master of his craft.

I could see this one improving on a rewatch as there is so much philosophy dealt with here, one can be easily set back reading all the subtitles and paying attention to the plot because you're still thinking about the questions or ideas the characters are spewing forth.

Easy to appreciate, hard to like.

[exzanya · 6/10 · 28 September 2020]

I get it, I appreciate it, and I understand why someone would like it, but I don't

A recovered master

[vincenzo_camoranesi · 9/10 · 20 December 2008]

What Bergman was doing for the Sweden (and the Northern Europe) of the sixties, Teshigahara, Kobayashi and Imamura were doing for Japanese society. _The Face of Another_ is one of the finest examples of this school, now overshadowed in popularity by the work of Kurosawa, which it splendidly complements.

The film is a philosophical, contemporary and surprisingly lasting reflection on an old theme: that of the double. The originality of the Abe screenplay (and novel) lies in the fact that this is a self-double, a device that adds an exotic as well as an erotic dimension to what is a personal psychological drama rooted in a Japan that was trying to put on a new face, metaphorically speaking, trying on this and that, in an attempt to be something. That the attempt looks desperate on film only reaffirms the message: a lonely crowd in a crowded place and a lonely man in a lonely crowd. Thus, the film is a cold shower, even chilling at times.

A special word for Japanese starts Tatsuya Nakadai and Machiko Kyo (both still with us), accompanied by a splendid cast. The black and white photography is magnificent and the subtle soundtrack punctuates rather than underline.

In summary, this film is mandatory viewing for anyone interested in Japanese film, and particularly for those interested in the sociology of postwar Japan and of the developed world generally. It is an excellent companion film to David Riesman's classic study _The Lonely Crowd_. I can think of no better introduction to master artist Teshigahara.It is a great pleasure to have this pristine DVD of a forgotten masterpiece.

Good concept, poor execution

[nataliaszczepanskaa · 6/10 · 5 September 2022]

I enjoyed the concept of a mask as well as overall philosophy of a movie. Those were undoubtedly thought-provoking dialogs between characters which pointed out the issue of alienation, an attempt of getting along with societal rules, pursuing mental freedom.

Aesthetically pleasing, a little weird old Japanese work not as insane and sharp as Korean The Housemaid but more like bland melancholic Bruno Schulz's stories The Cinnamon Shops.

Although rationally I would say the movie shares an important message which also approves my worldview, it didn't resonate with me emotionally. The content has been delivered in inadequate dry way without affecting imagination, thus I was losing focus and hardly maintained to get to the final.

Symbolism For The Sake Of Symbolism!

[net_orders · 3/10 · 1 May 2016]

Viewed on DVD. Production design = eight (8) stars. Director Hiroshi Teshigahara has created a Japanese film all but devoid of Japanese content (except for Japanese actresses and actors). Instead, the Director has tried (with varying degrees of success) to duplicate many famous (often bizarre) scenes from contemporary European (mostly French and Italian) movies and strung them together like beads on a second-hand necklace. To say that Teshigahara is obsessed with faces would be an understatement! (He also seems to have a bit of a thing for ears.) The plot is focused (more or less) on constructing an experimental latex mask (with some atypical properties) for the victim of an apparent industrial accident, and the impacts from wearing same. The mask is created by a "plastic surgeon" (with skills indistinguishable from a talented movie make-up artist) who also fancies himself an amateur psychologist and philosopher (and spouts corresponding lines of mumble-jumble dialog). Also tossed in are: groups of faces (from a grid of several dozen mug shots to scenes of a faceless street crowd of extras all sporting tight-fitting paper bags covering their heads); an attractive woman with half her faced badly scared (apparently the result of atomic bomb exposure); women applying makeup "to become humble"; and a selection of close-up facial expressions associated with various emotions. And to cover a few more bases, the Director injects incest, suicide, cuckolding by the cuckolded, the importance of odor, fun with a yo-yo, and on, and on. The film's closing scenes are (more or less) meaningless. Acting is pretty good despite much repetitious dialog between the principal male protagonists. Actress Kyôko Kishida's performance is outstanding. Once again she demonstrates why she is the most talented, consistently exciting, and attractive Japanese screen actress of the 1960's. The real star of this film, however, is the designer of the stunning medical lab set (Masao Yamazaki?). Not only does it look ahead of its time, but also today (50 years later) it still looks to be from far into the future! (Walls are transparent with no visible means of support and covered with see-through medical charts and abstracts of art artifacts. Plus lots of chrome and stainless steel accents. Instruments and lighting (and everything else) are wireless.) Cinematography (narrow screen, black & white) is fine despite using an antique process (due to budget constraints?). There are numerous in-camera effects. Lighting is okay; consistency of inter-scene lighting is good. Subtitles are fine. Music consists of an orchestral waltz played under the opening credits and musical like sounds heard here and there. After you have savored the medical lab set (conveniently, most of these scenes are clustered together), hit your player's eject button and move on. WILLIAM FLANIGAN, PhD.

Astounding

[crossbow0106 · 10/10 · 24 September 2009]

A film as brilliant as it is unsettling, the story of Okuyama, a married man who gets disfigured in the face by an industrial accident and goes to a psychiatrist, who makes a mask for him to wear. Tatsuya Nakadai is not even recognized until 50 minutes into the film, otherwise his face is in bandages. Its amazing what happens from there, what Okuyama discovers about himself once he dons the mask (or, the mask dons him) and how it has changed him. If the film centered only on him it would be more than fine. However, there are two unusual female roles which deserve mention: One is a girl who is obsessed with yo-yo's and who knows that Okuyama is the person in the mask (you will see why). The other is the very pretty Miki Irie, whose story is similar to Okuyama in that she is horribly disfigured, but her hair hides it until it doesn't. Okuyama and this lady never meet, which I think is a great idea, since wearing the mask means Okuyama does not have to show his disfigurement in public. The acting is uniformly wonderful, with lesser but pivotal roles by Machiko Kyo as Okuyama's wife and Kyoko Kishida as the nurse. Just be warned that this film is in no way conventional. It is a psychological drama rather than science fiction. I thought it was excellent.