Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters

"Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters" is a highly stylized and unconventional biographical film that chronicles the life of acclaimed Japanese author Yukio Mishima (portrayed by Ken Ogata). The film is structured in a non-linear fashion, interweaving three distinct visual and narrative threads. The first follows the events of November 25, 1970, the last day of Mishima's life, as he and his private militia, the Tatenokai, enact a failed coup d'état at a military base, culminating in his ritual suicide by seppuku. This present-day timeline is shot in a naturalistic color palette.

The second thread consists of black-and-white flashbacks to key moments in Mishima's past, from his sickly childhood and formative experiences to his rise as a literary giant and his growing obsession with physical perfection and nationalist ideals. These sequences are often narrated with excerpts from his autobiographical writings. The third element is the dramatization of scenes from three of his novels: "The Temple of the Golden Pavilion," "Kyoko's House," and "Runaway Horses." These segments are presented on surreal, theatrical sets with vibrant and symbolic color schemes, reflecting the inner world and obsessions of Mishima's characters, which in turn mirror his own.

The film is divided into four thematic chapters—"Beauty," "Art," "Action," and "Harmony of Pen and Sword"—that guide the audience through the complex and often contradictory facets of Mishima's personality and philosophy. Through this fragmented structure, director Paul Schrader creates a psychological portrait rather than a straightforward biography, exploring the connections between Mishima's life, his art, and his ultimate, tragic performance of death.

The core meaning of "Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters" revolves around the search for a synthesis between art and life, the pen and the sword. Director Paul Schrader explores the profound internal conflict of a man who felt that words alone were insufficient and that true beauty could only be realized through action, culminating in a beautiful death. The film posits that Mishima's entire life was a performance, a meticulously crafted work of art with his ritual suicide as its final, shocking act.

It delves into the idea that Mishima saw his own body and existence as a canvas for his philosophical and aesthetic ideals. His obsession with physical perfection, his deep-seated nationalism, and his literary creations were all interconnected expressions of his desire to unite the spiritual and the physical. The film suggests that by turning his life into "a line of poetry written with a splash of blood," Mishima sought to achieve a form of transcendence and create an enduring legacy that his art alone could not. Ultimately, the film is a meditation on the complex, often dangerous, relationship between an artist's imagination and their reality.

While the dominant interpretation sees the film as a portrait of a man merging his life with his art, other readings exist. One perspective is that the film is less about the historical Yukio Mishima and more a projection of director Paul Schrader's own artistic and psychological obsessions. Schrader is known for his fascination with tortured, lonely male protagonists who seek transcendence through violence (like Travis Bickle in "Taxi Driver," which he wrote). From this viewpoint, Mishima is another of Schrader's 'men in a room,' a character through whom the director explores his own recurring themes of self-destruction, spiritual crisis, and the mythology of suicidal glory.

Another interpretation focuses on the film's critique of Mishima's ideology. While the film presents his philosophy with aesthetic grandeur, it does not necessarily endorse it. The final scene of his speech to the Japan Self-Defense Forces, where he is met with heckling and indifference, can be read as a powerful anticlimax that undercuts his grand ambitions. This interpretation suggests the film portrays Mishima as a tragic, deeply flawed figure, whose beautiful, elaborate vision of himself and Japan was ultimately out of touch with reality—a performance for an audience that wasn't listening. His suicide, then, is not just a sublime union of art and action, but an admission of failure.

A third reading might view the film through the lens of queer theory, focusing on Mishima's repressed homosexuality as a key driver of his actions. His obsession with the hyper-masculine—bodybuilding, samurai, swords—can be seen as a complex performance of masculinity to overcompensate for or sublimate his desires, which were taboo in his society. The denied use of his novel "Forbidden Colors" is telling. In this light, his final act is not just political or aesthetic, but a deeply personal and tragic resolution to a lifetime of internal conflict over his identity and sexuality.

"Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters" was created in a climate where its subject, Yukio Mishima, was still a deeply polarizing and taboo figure in his native Japan. His spectacular suicide in 1970 had shocked the nation, and his right-wing, emperor-worshipping ideology was deeply controversial. The film's production by an American director was met with suspicion in Japan, and fears of retaliation from right-wing groups were a real concern during filming. Consequently, the film has never had a formal theatrical release in Japan, making it a famous piece of 'banned' cinema in its own country of origin.

Critically, the film was hailed as a masterpiece in the West upon its release, particularly for its audacious structure, stunning visual design by Eiko Ishioka, and the powerful score by Philip Glass. It won a special award for artistic contribution at the 1985 Cannes Film Festival. It has had a lasting influence on the biopic genre, demonstrating that a film about a real person could eschew linear, fact-based storytelling in favor of a more poetic, psychological, and visually abstract approach. Its unique triptych structure—blending the final day, flashbacks, and fictional adaptations—has been praised as a groundbreaking way to explore an artist's inner life.

Audiences and critics alike have praised its intellectual depth and visual splendor, though some have found its structure complex and its subject unsympathetic. The film solidified Paul Schrader's reputation as a visionary director, and he himself considers it his finest directorial work. While it never achieved mainstream commercial success, its impact on filmmaking, production design, and film scoring is significant. It remains a cornerstone of 1980s art-house cinema and a benchmark for biographical films that dare to be as complex and contradictory as their subjects.

Audience reception for "Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters" has generally been one of awe for its artistic ambition and visual splendor, though it is often considered a challenging film. Viewers frequently praise its stunning cinematography, the mesmerizing score by Philip Glass, and the brilliant, highly stylized production design by Eiko Ishioka. Many regard it as a unique and powerful biopic that transcends the genre's typical conventions.

The main points of praise center on the film's intelligent and complex structure, which artfully weaves together the different strands of Mishima's life and work to create a profound psychological portrait. The performance by Ken Ogata in the lead role is also widely acclaimed. However, a common point of criticism from some viewers is that the film can feel cold, overly intellectual, and emotionally distant. Its non-linear, fragmented nature can be confusing for those unfamiliar with Mishima's life and work.

The controversial nature of Mishima himself—his extreme nationalism and the manner of his death—can make him an unsympathetic protagonist for some audiences, who may struggle to connect with his motivations despite the film's aesthetic beauty. The overall verdict among cinephiles and audiences who appreciate art-house cinema is overwhelmingly positive, with many calling it a masterpiece and one of Paul Schrader's greatest achievements.