Intentions of Murder (1964)

Intentions of Murder is the kind of raw, fearless cinema that only Shōhei Imamura could make—messy, alive, and strangely poetic in the way it watches a woman claw her way toward selfhood in a society determined to keep her small. The film’s power comes not from tidy moral lessons but from Imamura’s unblinking direction: he finds dark humor, aching tenderness, and unsettling tension in the same breath, letting you feel how desire, shame, and survival can knot together. Masumi Harukawa gives a performance that grows quietly monumental, turning what could have been a bleak story into something bracingly human and, ultimately, rewarding. It does include sexual violence and nudity, so it’s not for everyone, but if you can meet it on its harsh terms, it’s an unforgettable drama that lingers like a hard truth finally spoken out loud.

Intentions of Murder is trying to be a bruising, socially observant character study about a woman clawing her way out of humiliation and legal erasure in postwar Japan, and Imamura’s empathy for messy, contradictory human behavior is very much the point. But it’s also a long sit, and the film can feel overstuffed and repetitive, circling its bleak dynamics enough that you may start checking the clock before it reaches its emotional destination. The sexual violence and coercion aren’t sensationalized, but they are central and unsettling, so if you’re not up for that kind of material, this will be a miserable experience rather than an illuminating one. If you can handle the harshness, there’s real payoff in Sadako’s stubborn survival and the film’s unglamorous honesty, but don’t expect a tight, crowd-pleasing drama.