Mizoguchi Kenji’s Miss Oyu is a tragic melodrama of complex relationships, unrequited love, and – in keeping with the director’s body of work – the role of women in Japanese society. While enjoyable enough, its slightly over-the-top and sensationalistic story seems a poor fit for Mizoguchi’s measured, meditative aesthetic. There are much better works to sample from this exceptional filmmaker.

In 19th century Japan, the bachelor Shinnosuke (Hori Yūji) is presented with a potential bride: the demure and beautiful Shizu (Otowa Nobuko). His attention, however, is immediately captured by her older sister Oyu (Tanaka Kinuyo), a widow with a small child. As social mores prevent any potential marriage between them, Shinnosuke’s romantic obsessions comes to threaten three different lives.

One can usually spot a Mizoguchi film with ease, and Miss Oyu is not exception. The director’s long takes and slow, purposeful camera movements are effectively his creative trademark, and he and cinematographer Miyagawa Kazuo produce a beautifully composed feature in keeping with their more famous and iconic works. His perennial focus on his female characters, and the trials Japanese women face in a firmly patriarchal society, is evident here, but in comparison to earlier works it feels slightly underdone. Shizu, who meekly accepts a marriage to a man that will never love her, is sadly underwritten throughout and one winds up desperately hoping for some kind of stronger presentation or inner conflict to help bring the character into better focus. Otowa, best known for her work with Shindo Kaneto (she would ultimately marry him), does a strong job but lacks the tools a better screenplay would give her.

There is better material for Tanaka Kinuyo; not a surprise given this is just one of 15 films she made with Mizoguchi. She is in fine form here. Two years after Miss Oyu was released Tanaka would take up directing films herself. She was only the second woman to do so, after Sakane Tazuko. Hori Yūji does a decent job as Shinnosuke, but like Shizu comes across a little too listless and weak. It comes to hurt the film’s dramatic potential when two of the three lead characters are so underwhelming.

There is undeniable – indeed, remarkable – talent both behind and in front of the camera, but when the story fails to match its director and the characters fail to meet the heightened requirements of the plot the various elements simply fail to gel together. Immediately after Miss Oyu Mizoguchi won enormous acclaim for a string of thoughtful, emotionally resonant dramas including The Lady of Musashino (1951), The Life of Oharu (1952), Ugetsu (1953), and Sansho the Bailiff (1954). These are all widely regarded classics of Japanese cinema. By contrast, Miss Oyu feels like a curiosity: less acclaimed, less seen, and unfortunately less effective.