While many post-war Japanese filmmakers crafted images of quiet elegance or larger-than-life heroics, Shôhei Imamura dove headfirst into the raw chaos of human existence.
His films didn’t shy away from messy realities—they embraced them. From the grit of urban backstreets to the rhythms of rural villages, Imamura’s work highlighted lives that cinema often ignored.
His career began in the shadow of Yasujirô Ozu, where he assisted the master of restrained family dramas. He soon rejected the polished surfaces of his mentor’s style, carving out a path that celebrated imperfection. His films are unflinching and deeply human.
With over 20 films to his name, including The Ballad of Narayama (1983) and The Eel (1997)—both Palme d’Or winners—Imamura remains one of Japanese cinema’s most distinctive voices. To watch his work is to encounter a Japan far removed from postcard-perfect vistas. It’s messy. It’s honest. And it’s unforgettable.
Contents:
Growing Up on The Wild Streets of Post-War Japan
Both Imamura and Ozu were deeply concerned with reality. The key difference being that Ozu captured Japan in decline, while Imamura portrayed a vibrant, pulsating social life in full bloom. Ozu depicted a nation fading away, whereas Imamura delved into the raw, uninhibited emotional lives of its people.
He emphasized this by focusing on Japan’s lower classes. His characters were far from restrained or refined—more often, they were selfish, amoral, and teetering on the edge of animalistic behavior. His fascination with the dark sides of Japan stood in stark contrast to his background, though.
Imamura was the son of a doctor and had access to some of Japan’s best schools. His upbringing exposed him to the attitudes of the upper class—attitudes he soon grew to loathe. As he once remarked:
“I despised them and remember thinking that they were the kind of people who would never get close to the fundamental truths of life.” (Shôhei Imamura)
In the late 1940s, Imamura enrolled at Tokyo’s Waseda University, where he studied Western history for six years. While officially a student, he spent most of his time writing scripts for avant-garde theater and immersing himself in radical politics.
From Waseda to Shochiku Studios
At the time, Japan was in the throes of reconstruction after World War II. The country was grappling with the cultural and economic upheavals of the postwar occupation. These years were marked by rapid societal changes under American influence, with Western ideals and consumerism infiltrating traditional Japanese life.
At the same time, the black markets that flourished amidst food shortages became a breeding ground for opportunism and survival, often skirting societal norms. For Imamura, this chaotic blend of freedom and desperation offered a stark contrast to the rigid hierarchies of prewar Japan.
He was 18 years old by the war's end, witnessing firsthand the emergence of a freer yet fractured society. The widespread prostitution, pervasive poverty, and thriving black markets of the era weren’t just societal phenomena; they became formative experiences that shaped his worldview.
Imamura later reflected on this time as a period of unvarnished reality, where human instincts and desires were laid bare. This exposure to the raw undercurrents of Japanese life became a cornerstone of his artistic vision, one that diverged sharply from the refined aesthetics of his future mentor, Yasujirô Ozu.
“Suddenly, everything became free. We could talk about our real thoughts and feelings without hiding anything. Even sex became free, and the black markets were brilliant.” (Shôhei Imamura)
After completing his studies at Waseda University in 1951, Imamura joined Shochiku Studios as an assistant director. There, he had the chance to work under Yasujirô Ozu. While he respected Ozu’s meticulous craftsmanship, Imamura quickly realized their artistic visions were fundamentally different.
Imamura’s Breakaway from Ozu’s Idealized Japan
Ozu’s restrained, precisely composed films focused on the quiet decline of traditional Japanese values. To Imamaura, this seemed disconnected from the raw, chaotic vitality he had witnessed on the streets of Japan, which fascinated him so much.
This clash of perspectives fueled his determination to carve his own path. He openly criticized Ozu’s sanitized portrayals of Japan, viewing them as the officially sanctioned, polished facade of a nation in flux.
Instead, Imamura sought to expose the gritty realities of postwar Japan, turning his focus to the underclass—gangsters, pimps, and prostitutes—where he found the true representatives of Japan. This doesn’t mean he necessarily admired this side of society, but it became the foundation for his studies of humanity and his critical gaze.
His encounters with bar hostesses and prostitutes left a strong impression on him. He was struck by their instinctive defiance of suffering, which inspired him to challenge Japanese views on women in many of his films.
These "real women" stood in stark contrast to the dutiful, submissive female characters that dominated contemporary Japanese cinema. Imamura spotlighted the gap between society’s ideal of the housewife and the resilient women he observed—women who refused to bow to condescending men or outdated conventions.
The tension between illusion and reality—or the irrational and the rational—became a driving force in Imamura’s work. Before creating his greatest masterpieces, however, he made a series of groundbreaking “New Wave” films.
Related article: A Film Researcher’s Honest Review of Tokyo Story
When Imamura Brought the Black Markets to Nikkatsu
In 1954, Imamura was hired by Nikkatsu Studios, marking the beginning of his journey as a director. During this period, he directed four films commissioned by the studio, adhering to its demands while refining his skills behind the camera.
These years were formative, though constrained by the studio system, leaving little room for personal expression. However, Imamura’s patience paid off, and in 1961, he finally earned the freedom to pursue his own projects.
With Pigs and Battleships (1961), Imamura began carving out his identity as a filmmaker. What followed was a string of groundbreaking works: The Insect Woman (1963), Intentions of Murder (1964), The Pornographers (1966), and Profound Desires of the Gods (1968).
These films not only defined his career but also helped shape Japan’s New Wave cinema of the 1960s. Moreover, they cemented his reputation as a director who was unafraid to explore the unvarnished realities of life, focusing on themes and characters rarely seen in Japanese cinema at the time.
After Profound Desires of the Gods, Imamura took an unexpected detour. Turning his attention to documentary filmmaking, he spent much of the 1970s examining Japan’s social issues through a more observational lens.
This phase of his career further enriched his perspective, allowing him to deepen his understanding of human behavior and the undercurrents of Japanese society. In the late 1970s, he returned to fiction, now a more assured and ambitious auteur, ready to push the boundaries of his craft even further.
The Rise of Imamura, the Icon
Vengeance is Mine (1979) marked his comeback to fiction. Based on the true story of a murderer who evaded capture for years, the film was a natural bridge between his documentary work and his fictional storytelling.
Blending stark realism with a gripping narrative, it became a commercial and critical success that gave Imamura larger budgets and the creative freedom to tackle even more ambitious projects in the following decade.
The 1980s saw him reach new heights, with The Ballad of Narayama (1983) and Black Rain (1989) standing out as his most significant works of the era. While The Ballad of Narayama shared thematic echoes with his earlier films, it delved deeper into humanity’s primal relationship with nature and mortality.
Black Rain, in contrast, offered an unflinching look at the devastating aftermath of the atomic bombings, merging personal and collective tragedy in a way that few films had dared.
By the time The Ballad of Narayama won the Palme d’Or at Cannes in 1983, Imamura's directorial voice was firmly established on the global stage. His ability to weave profound themes with raw storytelling made him one of Japan’s most distinctive filmmakers.
Imamura’s Swan Song
Although his output slowed toward the end of the 1980s, he remained a commanding presence in Japanese cinema. Following Black Rain, he took an extended hiatus, returning eight years later with a film that would redefine his career once more.
The Eel (1997) earned Imamura his second Palme d’Or, placing him among an elite group of filmmakers with this rare honor. The film marked a shift in tone, revealing a lighter, more character-driven side of Imamura.
While still tackling dark themes, The Eel’s humor and introspection highlighted a director who continued to evolve, even in his later years. Although it resonated more with international audiences than Japanese viewers, it solidified Imamura’s legacy as a cinematic icon.
Few filmmakers have traversed such diverse genres before or since while leaving a lasting mark across multiple facets of Japanese cinema. His unflinching exploration of humanity continues to resonate to this day and ensures his position as one of Japan’s most influential directors.
JCA’s Top Five Shôhei Imamura Films
Pigs and Battleships (1961)
Set in postwar Japan, Pigs and Battleships offers a somewhat authentic glimpse into the nation's fractured state at the time. Though slightly exaggerated, the characters reveal Imamura’s early exploration of human nature—a skill he would refine throughout his career.
While not Imamura’s most defining work, Pigs and Battleships remains a personal favorite at JCA. Its unique blend of cinematic tendencies, cultural intersections, and inspirations never fails to entertain.
The story revolves around a petty gangster who attempts to gain respect through pig imports. It captures a Japan teeming with American opportunists and Chinese businessmen. Imamura’s direction mirrors this multicultural environment, drawing from both Hollywood and Japanese influences.
The film balances the believable with the improbable, exploiting contrasts to craft an entertaining caper set in a chaotic era. For those familiar with Imamura’s background, Pigs and Battleships is an especially fascinating melting pot of his formative influences.
Read the full review here: Shôhei Imamura's Rebellious Ways Started with Pigs and Battleships!
Vengeance is Mine (1979)
With Vengeance is Mine, Imamura directed with unmatched authority, delivering a film that remains as striking today as it was upon release. His raw cinematography and fearless tackling of taboo subjects reflect his evolution as a filmmaker.
The deliberate, handheld cinematography occasionally echoes his documentary style, asserting his command over the medium. However, Vengeance is Mine has an unresolved quality. While its depiction of a cold, emotionless serial killer leaves a lasting impression, something is missing.
A deeper exploration of the protagonist’s inner world might have elevated the film to the status of one of Imamura’s finest works. Despite its minor shortcomings, the film became a cult classic in the West, cementing Imamura’s reputation as one of Japan’s boldest directors.
The Ballad of Narayama (1983)
Widely regarded as Imamura’s crowning masterpiece, The Ballad of Narayama stirs profound emotions with its powerful themes of human nature and our primal connection to the natural world.
Set in a rural community governed by utilitarian philosophies, the film explores a society where open sexuality and pragmatic survival dictate daily life. Imamura masterfully portrays the cycle of life through the changing seasons, from spring’s growth to winter’s decay.
This unflinching tale of a village abandoning its elderly on Mount Narayama when they are no longer deemed useful is as haunting as it is epic. It stands as one of Imamura’s most monumental achievements, blending humanity’s unchanging essence with nature’s brutal realities.
Read the full review here: The Most Brutal Ballad in the History of Japanese Cinema!
Black Rain (1989)
Black Rain offers a chilling meditation on the human cost of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. Quiet yet unrelenting, the film delves into the aftermath of unimaginable destruction, presenting a portrait of resilience and despair that lingers long after the credits roll. Both emotionally devastating and visually stunning, it captures the scope of the tragedy while focusing intimately on those who lived through it.
Released four years before Schindler’s List, Black Rain shares Spielberg’s commitment to portraying human suffering but filters its horrors through black-and-white cinematography. This choice tempers the graphic details while enhancing the starkness of the devastation, creating a subdued yet harrowing atmosphere.
Imamura’s shift toward traditional storytelling grounds Black Rain as both a character study and a historical reflection. While some emotional arcs feel understated, the characters’ quiet detachment reflects the collective numbness of a nation grappling with trauma. The film’s power lies in its restraint, offering an unflinching view of lives forever altered by a single event.
Despite minor narrative shortcomings, Black Rain remains one of the most poignant dramatizations of the atomic bombings. Its weighty atmosphere and historical resonance leave an indelible mark on its audience.
The Eel (1997)
The Eel marks a turning point in Imamura’s career, shifting away from his earlier focus on societal critique to explore more intimate, character-driven storytelling. This introspective approach reflects a filmmaker unafraid to evolve, embracing themes of redemption, isolation, and the complexity of human relationships.
The story follows a businessman who, after serving eight years in prison for murdering his wife, seeks a quiet life running a barbershop.
Though undeniably grim, Imamura injects the narrative with moments of humor and tenderness, balancing its darker undertones with a profound sense of humanity. The result is a film that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant.
While The Eel may not break new ground internationally, it stands out as a bold, exploratory work within Imamura’s filmography.
Many see it as a poignant swan song, a film that underscores his commitment to storytelling even as his career drew to a close. The layered characters and quiet emotional depth reaffirm Imamura’s place among Japan’s most influential cinematic voices, crafting a legacy that echoes through generations.
Resources
1. Allan Casebier: «Images of Irrationality In Modern Japan: The Films of Shohei Imamura»
(1983, Film Criticism Vol. 8, No. 1, Japanese Cinema, pp. 42-49, Allegheny College)
2. Cinemateque Ontario: «Shohei Imamura»
(1997, Toronto International Film Festival Group, ISBN 0-9682969-0-4)
3. Toichi Nakata: «Shohei Imamura Interview» fra «Shohei Imamura», (ed.) James Quandt.
(1997, Toronto International Film Festival Group, p. 117)
4. The Guardian: All you need is sex
5. The Japan Times: A lifetime in search of Japan's true self
6. The Japan Times: Pigs, pimps, prostitutes and other things — Japan's New Age
7. Senses of Cinema: Imamura, Shohei
8. The Telegraph: Shohei Imamura
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