The Virgin and the Beast (Panna a Netvor) (Herz, 1978)
For the first half hour, this is legitimately a horror film: suspense, dread, creepiness, some mild jump scares, and a healthy pour of blood. Unlike the Cocteau and Disney versions, the beast is genuinely abhorent. But as the film progresses, it turns from horror to fantasy, becoming a straight fairy tale almost suitable for children. Which would be fine if Beauty and the Beast weren't so stultifying. It's extraordinary how many times this tale has been adapted. Whatever is the appeal?
That aside, this is warmly recommended for its sheer beauty. I discern a fellow pyromaniac in the surfeit of torches, candles, hearth fires, and a couple narratively superfluous conflagrations thrown in for the joy of it. One pretty moment: cut to the father sitting at table, contemplating a flute of golden amontillado, which is so aligned with a candle behind it that the flame appears to float inside the glass, even tilting as the glass tilts, a curious optical effect I haven't seen before.
Kuroneko (Shindo, 1968). I wish Shindo had sought my advice about movies, I could have given him some pointers on how to make a good one.
Begin, in media res, with the first samurai killing, exactly as filmed. What the women are, and their intentions, emerge as the scene unfolds, but who they are and their motive remain unknown. Proceed with a series of killings, a bit more concisely than in the existing film, and then introduce Gintoku on the battlefield. Deviating from the existing script, let Gintoku encounter Shige by the roadside on his journey home, before learning of the death of his mother and wife, or hearing about the ghosts. They don't initially recognize each other because Gintoku is plastered with mud and Shige is demurely hiding her face. Gintoku is lured to their lair like the other samurai, recognition and revelation ensue, tears all around. At dawn, he carries on to the governor for his hero's welcome, where he is tasked with destroying the ghosts. Et cetera. Kuroneko as filmed is so linear and explicated that there's no mystery.
Anyway, I the main thing I liked in this was the kabuki dance performed by Yone.
The Blackcoat's Daughter, AKA The Devil's Daughter (Perkins, 2015). I liked this well enough, but felt it relied too much on tension music. The delayed comprehension and opaque characters are intentional, but risk viewer investment. I initially mistook Emma Roberts' character for the girl Rose confided to earlier, which didn't help.