In the decades after the Second World War wrought unimaginable damage on the nation, the people of Japan do their best to rebuild their society. For most of them, they undergo immense travail in the hopes of recapturing the glory of their pre-war culture. However, others are not quite as dedicated, and choose to rather pass their time in a form of self-indulgence. This is most evident in the life of Subuyan Ogata (Shōichi Ozawa), a middle-aged man who makes his living through producing cheap underground pornographic films, defined by their low-quality, poor design and rushed aesthetic, but which make them irresistible to the wealthy, influential people that for Ogata’s main clientele, who frequently seek these alternative means of satiation, which they can’t get in their proper lives. Producing them for next to nothing, and employing a range of women who masquerade as virgins, and men who are more than happy to volunteer to take part in this demented act, Ogata and his posse make a small but consistent living doing what they’re passionate about. However, his business starts to feel the burden when local gangsters start to assert their control, slowly stealing from him and taking away his livelihood. His concerns are only compounded by the presence of his family, with his landlady and occasional girlfriend, Haru (Sumiko Sakamoto), slowly descending into delusion as a result of her health issues, which results in her believing that her first husband has been reincarnated as the carp she keeps close to her at all times. She also presents Ogata with another challenge – she requests that he marry her teenage daughter, something that he is not entirely comfortable with, despite the fact that he runs the gamut of perversions. Somehow, despite the encroaching forces that slowly begin to envelop his passion, Ogata demonstrates a rare resilience that makes any of these challenges surmountable, even when it starts to appear as if his efforts are all in vain. He’s on the verge of losing everything, and he’s determined to keep as much of it as he possibly can.

Shohei Imamura was something of an anomaly in Japanese cinema, crafting some of the nation’s most remarkable films, but rarely ever playing by the rules, which resulted in some absolutely astonishing films that were as unique as they were towering masterpieces, establishing him as one of the most versatile voices in mid-century Japanese filmmaking. Many of his works were fascinating relics of the time in which they were made, which can be exemplified in The Pornographers (Japanese: 「エロ事師たち」より 人類学入門), his masterful comedy of manners that makes some powerful statements, and takes some deceptive turns along the way, launching the audience into one of the most disconcerting stories of desire ever committed to the screen. A film that feels so remarkably modern, separating it from many other New Wave films produced during this time, but yet still so quintessentially representative of the mentalities that pervaded the culture in the post-war period, The Pornographers is a daring social odyssey that sees the director venturing into the insidious depths of the human condition to deliver one of the most enthralling dark comedies of the 1960s, a tremendously entertaining, but unflinchingly harrowing, character-study about despicable people, made by a director who demonstrated that he was consistently ahead of his time when he looked into the many issues some of his contemporaries were too reluctant to explore, while never crossing the boundaries of decency he appears to be so gleefully disregarding for the sake of this layered account of the intersections between different facets of society. The Pornographers is not the regal, elegant social drama we’d expect from this period of Japanese filmmaking (with even the most subversive New Wave films demonstrating a remarkable restrained), but rather an unhinged dose of cinematic anarchy, a brutally honest, outrageously funny and incredibly unsettling work of dark comedy that takes the audience on a journey into a side of society that has rarely been shown with such gleeful delight, and outright honesty, as it was through Imamura’s incredibly strange perspective on the world around him.

The most distinct quality of The Pornographers that should be noted from the outset is that it functions as a postwar comedy at the most fundamental level, a darkly endearing social satire that takes aim at particular facets of the Japanese experience in the decades after the end of the war, a period in which substantial rebuilding to the fabric of the nation was conducted, but the wounds of the conflict still being omnipotent, and an enormous motivator for many filmmakers who came of age around this period to pursue a kind of storytelling that would address these issues, either directly or through implication. The Pornographers is absolutely one of the more interesting experiments, particularly in how Imamura immerses the audience in his vision of Japan using comedy as a way of not only satirizing the mentalities that were dominant but also conveying some of the more haunting aspects of society at this time. Japan is a society built on its morality, often bordering on puritanical in how it emphasized respect and dignity for the carnivalesque cravings of other cultures. This is precisely what makes The Pornographers such an enthralling piece, as the outrageous comedy that underpins this film is not accidental or an attempt to flippantly deride society and its tendency towards decency, but rather as a means of making a terrifying statement about a country that is still in the process of being rebuilt, and the relationship between those who uphold an idealistic view of society, derived from the centuries of carefully-curated traditions that were seemingly halted in a flash decades before, and those who openly rebel against these preconceived notions of what constitutes upstanding, virtuous behaviour. It is a film that burns with a darkly comical rage that always hints at something much deeper than what we perceive on the surface, with the director ensuring that the viewer is well aware that we’re descending into unchartered narrative territory, and that the risk taken to get there will potentially be worth the moral ambiguity we encounter on the journey.

Throughout The Pornographers, Imamura grapples the narrow boundary between poignant social commentary and outright indecency, establishing a set of narrative parameters that show clear direction and motivation, but still allow the director the freedom to explore this story without the burden of satiating too many standards that would cripple his general intentions for this seemingly freeform film. By virtue of this liberal approach to the themes he is exploring, Imamura puts together a film that is not subtle in any way, an intentional choice made to facilitate further exploration into some of the most uncomfortable themes, without alienating the audience to the point of displeasure, but still infusing a general unease into an otherwise fascinating dark comedy. The Pornographers, as the title suggests, is a film about voyeurism, both in terms of the main character’s line of work and how the director goes about representing the broader themes that underpin the film. We’re offered an uncomfortable glimpse into the post-war mentality, and the numerous challenges that everyone living in these decades following the conflict have had to face, delivered in the form of an exuberant, but still quite hefty, dysfunctional family comedy. Remove the more questionable character traits, and the characters at the centre of the film are quite endearing, which is how Imamura manages to convey some of the most disconcerting subject matter, using each one of these individuals as pawns in his demented portrayal of social machinations. The Pornographers is two hours of deranged ramblings, condensed into a simple but effective story of a set of immoral characters undergoing various trials and tribulations in their efforts to survive, navigating the perilous underworld of a society hostile to their existence, particularly in a time where unity is paramount, and such behaviour is entirely rebuked in favour of what are perceived to be upstanding values, with the defiance of a small but dedicated sect of immoral heathens dangerously threatening the delicate, culturally-conditioned balance.

The Pornographers is a darkly visceral comedy that invites viewers to extrapolate everything they can from a ferociously surreal story, which thrusts us into an unsettling voyage that ventures far beyond the confines of the human condition, and touches on something almost ethereal, encouraging us to find our own meaning in this puzzling dark dark comedy, asserting our own perspective on this chilling story of anger, despair and the boundless limits of greed in a time of socio-cultural uncertainty. Imamura utilizes a form of carefully-composed disorientation as a form of social commentary, giving him the chance to present a stark and uncompromisingly dark story through the lens of surreal humour and absurd situations, which form an entertaining narrative that carries immense weight when you look beyond the unconventional style. The director presents us with a nightmarish vision of the world, one that only becomes more unsettling as the film progresses, until we realize escape is futile until Imamura has presented us with his bewildering version of reality. Crafted as a hedonistic morality tale, with the director balancing the celebration of indecency with the inevitable comeuppance that prevents it from completely descending into unprincipled anarchy, The Pornographers is an intrepid masterpiece that dares to go beyond the confines of what can be considered righteous and chooses to be one of the most rigorously brilliant dark comedies of the era, albeit without losing any of the underlying social commentaries that makes it such an enduring piece, and a singularly unforgettable piece of satire that is both noble and fearless in its pursuit of some deeper meaning.