Nothing’s more salaciously entertaining than political scandal, save for political scandal amongst power hungry women. Make that, power-hungry, back-stabbing, sex-starved women. And, in the history of Japan, no such scandal has matched the proportions of the Ejima-Ikushima Affair, a tale of dirty dealings, illicit relationships, and political maneuverings involving the Oh-oku, or shogun’s harem. Such is the topic of second time director, Toru Hayashi’s Oh-Oku: The Women of the Inner Palace.
The time is 1713. Shogun Tokugawa Ienobu has recently passed, leaving behind an infant ruler heir. The transition of monarchical power was fairly painless, but the shuffling of administrative and related powers within Edo’s inner court proved less so. For you see, the ex-Shogun’s wife, Ten’ei-in (Reiko Takashima), proved barren, and the current mini Shogun so happens to be the progeny of his concubine, Gekko-in (Haruka Igawa). Understandably, the former Shogun’s widow didn’t take too kindly to the young prostitute’s newly acquired political power, and a bit of a one-sided rivalry has ensued, with the Ten’ei-in doing everything in her power to make the life of Gekko-in a living hell. As Oh-oku starts, the rivalry has evolved into a potential ousting, with the wicked Ten’ei-in seeking a way to remove the good hearted Gekko-in from power. When it is discovered that Gekko-in has been seeing a young and attractive former Noh actor, Manabe Akifusa (himself the advisor to the new shogun and subject of court jealousy elsewhere), a plan is hatched: expose their illicit relationship, and thereby kill two birds with one stone. The key to this action 
lie in Gekko-in’s handmaiden, a city born beauty and dutiful virgin. In an admittedly head-scratchingly obtuse bit of reasoning, Ten’ei-in hires a charming and popular Kabuki actor to seduce young Ejima (Yukie Nakama) in hopes doing so will lead her to publicly divulge her superior’s relationship. If you want to find out how the whole thing plays out before hand, you can check out the wikipedia entry here. Suffice it to say, two hours of female scheming ensues.
At first glance Oh-Oku has everything one would expect from a big budget period picture. Beautiful cinematography, stunningly ornate costumes, exquisitely detailed sets, and an historically accurate narrative concerning royal court cat-fights, complete with the political intrigue and double crosses one would expect to find in the most hostile of female environments. This in turn is populated by an intimidating cast of characters, all spouting sufficiently intellectual dialog, and led by an elegant starlet looking just that. But look past that glossy veneer of stunning beauty, rampant adultery, sneaky sneers (Seriously, This movie is packed from start to finish with the dirtiest looks I’ve ever seen), and royal heartbreak and you’ll notice there’s something missing: real emotion. The artifice is there, with all the typical facets one would expect of “Academy” worthy acting: knowing evil glances, glorious sobbing breakdowns complete with tremulous nostril-work, and breathless embraces, but any and all subtlety is curiously absent. Even stranger is the fact that this is not due to amateur acting. There are quite a few familiar faces to be found, but near all seem disconnected from the material. Yukie Nakama (Shinobi: Heart Under Blade, G@me, Pocky Commercials), toward whom I admit harboring a bit of a crush, seems hopelessly lost. Her unspoken desire 
for her Kabuki lover remains near incommunicado. Goro Kishitani (Graveyard of Honor) is relegated to the sidelines with yet another bad hairdo. Reiko Takashima (Black Angel, Azumi 2) simply channels Bizen from Ashura.
Not helping matters is the languorous fashion in which the story plays out, lulling the audience to sleep while venturing off into the realm of inconsequentiality, itself a bit of a diversion from the historical fact, given that over 1300 people suffered punishment due to the scandal depicted. Still, it is pretty, and such hardship would undoubtedly turn off the films target 40-something female audience. Still, at just a little over two hours, the film seemed near interminable (And what was with that rather odd insertion of a pop theme song by Koda Kumi at the very end of the film?).
In closing, Oh-Oku is as beautiful as it is wooden –the Japanese period film equivalent of Nicole Kidman, if you will. It will undoubtedly please the viewers of the romantic do-rama, but all others would be best advised to stay away.
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