“An exceptionally poignant melodrama about two sisters' ill-fated relationship with the same man. Mizoguchi didn't value the film highly, but the period scenes among Kyoto gentry and the squeeze between social proprieties and affairs of the heart evoked his sensitive hand. There are many scenes of uniquely Japanese social rituals. At the core is Tanaka, Mizoguchi's paramount female principal, as the older sister who unwisely allows arranged marital customs to ruin three lives. The perennial mystery of Mizoguchi's films is his revelation of Tanaka's iron will and transcendental appeal behind her not very pleasing oval face and weak, receding chin. Her scene of claiming the child of a frustrated marriage is exultant, and the final shots of the distraught husband among marshy reeds is reminiscent of soulmate Murnau's Sunrise.” --Andrew Sarris, Village Voice

(Miss Oyu will be repeated Sunday, August 8, at 4:00 PM)

The following is the longer unpublished original note:

“Following the completion of Portrait of Madame Yuki in 1950, Mizoguchi made Miss Oyu for Daiei, where he was to make most of his later films. Here he continues his exploration of the lives of women of the upper classes. His source was the story ‘Ashikari' (The Rushcutter) by one of Japan's modern literary masters, Junichiro Tanizaki.” --David Owens.
“An exceptionally poignant melodrama about two sisters' ill-fated relationship with the same man. Mizoguchi didn't value the film highly, but the period scenes among Kyoto gentry and the squeeze between social proprieties and affairs of the heart evoked his sensitive hand. There are many scenes of uniquely Japanese social rituals. At the core is Tanaka, Mizoguchi's paramount female principal, as the older sister who unwisely allows arranged marital customs to ruin three lives. The perennial mystery of Mizoguchi's films is his revelation of Tanaka's iron will and transcendental appeal behind her not very pleasing oval face and weak, receding chin. Her scene of claiming the child of a frustrated marriage is exultant, and the final shots of the distraught husband among marshy reeds is reminiscent of soulmate Murnau's Sunrise.” --Andrew Sarris, Village Voice