Kwaidan

A classic collection of four Japanese Horror stories. Features "Black Hair", "The Woman in the Snow", "Hoichi the Earless" and "In a Cup of Tea"

Winner of the Special Jury Prize at Cannes, Kwaidan features four nightmarish tales in which terror thrives and demons lurk. Adapted from traditional Japanese ghost stories, this lavish production draws extensively on director Masaki Kobayashi's own training as a student of painting and fine arts. Criterion is proud to present Kwaidan in a new ravishing color transfer.


Overview
Masaki Kobayashi's stylish horror film Kwaidan comes to DVD with a widescreen anamorphic transfer that preserves the original theatrical aspect ratio of 2.35:1. The Japanese soundtrack is rendered in Dolby Digital Mono. English subtitles are accessible. Supplemental materials include the original theatrical trailer. Although there are few extras, the quality of the sound and picture on this release continue to show why Criterion is one of the best names in DVD.

All Movie Guide - Tom Wiener
Elegantly shot in widescreen by Yoshio Miyajima and impressively scored by Toru Takemitsu (Japan's greatest film composer), Kwaidan is a visual or aural feast. It's also the last great film by director Masaki Kobayashi, best known for his epic World War II trilogy The Human Condition. For contemporary western film audiences used to slice-and-dice horror films cut to rock & roll rhythms, it will seem impossibly slow and tame, but that's because it makes no concession at all to western sensibilities. On its original release in 1965, the film was greeted with indifference by U.S. audiences, whose idea of Japanese horror was honed by the pulpy exploits of Godzilla and Mothra. Lafcadio Hearn's source stories delve into the psyches of men who venture into unknown territory; they often begin fearlessly but wind up mad or maimed by their experiences, often at the hands of evil women. In an odd way, Kwaidan resembles a series of film noir tales. Ultimately, though, it is a series of very spooky ghost stories, clearly mounted with great skill on lovingly constructed studio sets (designed by Shigemasa Toda), whose artificiality actually ratchets up the sense of dislocation.