The combat remains offscreen for the entirety of the film, but Shindo (who also wrote the screenplay) elegantly uses the women’s reality as a microcosm of war and the disregard for human life that defines it. Their apparent lack of remorse about killing lost deserters who are themselves trying only to escape meaningless and violent death is a result of the circumstances into which war has forced them.
The impact that Hachi’s presence has on the psychological dynamic between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law forms the dramatic core of the film. After the arrogant man’s return, both are at first hostile to him, for he has come back without the older woman’s son and the younger woman’s husband. Hachi sticks out like a sore thumb in the symbolic order so economically established by the film in its deceptively simple opening minutes. He is neither a soldier on the run whose armor the women can sell—in fact, he escaped the conflict by dressing up as a priest—nor a predator seeking to exploit them, like the merchant Ushi. What does he want, and what does he stand for?
“Onibaba is striking not only for its rich symbolism but also for the genuine terror its suggestions of the supernatural inspire.”
It all becomes clear when, soon after his return, Hachi and the younger woman embark on an intense sexual relationship, which the older woman does not approve of—though she is at first more concerned about ending up alone if her daughter-in-law moves in with Hachi than she is about the idea that this liaison may be disrespectful to the memory of her dead son. While this pragmatic position makes sense for a woman of her age leading such a difficult life, it also seems to gesture at a more contemporary reality than that of fourteenth-century Japan. The modernity of the film’s concerns is confirmed when Hachi and the younger woman lay out their expectations of the relationship: they want only casual sex between “good friends,” not necessarily to live together or start a family. Of course, on a narrative level, this arrangement is made possible by the freedom from outside scrutiny that comes with an isolated life among the reeds. But here many viewers will no doubt see a reflection of the reality of the 1960s and the sexual revolution that was underway in many parts of the world when Onibaba was released. The older woman’s assumption that Hachi wants to marry the younger woman echoes the expectations of an older generation, challenged by a more emancipated youth.
Onibaba is striking, however, not only for its rich symbolism but also for the genuine terror its suggestions of the supernatural inspire and, especially, for its visceral sexuality, the powerful life force that moves it forward. When the older woman first sees the couple in the throes of passion, in Hachi’s hut, she walks away angry and painfully frustrated. She wraps her arms and legs around a tall tree, and with this obviously phallic image Shindo initially merely seems to be pushing the film’s symbolism to an (almost comical) extreme. But indeed, desire is slowly creating a rift in the older woman’s firm structure of beliefs and values, without her realizing it. She does not simply stand for the conservatism of an older generation; rather, Shindo suggests that behind her adherence to these beliefs is a repression of her own sexual desire and a fear of loneliness—in short, a need for intimacy. Like her daughter-in-law, the older woman is a creature of flesh and blood.
As the two women, along with the viewer, become more aware of the realm of the body, details in the film take on a more haptic, physical quality. The reeds flowing in the wind now seem to quiver between moments of calm and wildness like waves of desire. After the first time Hachi invites the younger woman to his hut, he runs through the grass and rolls around on the ground, venting his sexual frustration but also perhaps celebrating the fact that the woman did not exactly turn his offer down. His energy is matched by that of the younger woman when she races to meet him at night, lust piercing through the physical barrier of the reeds. One particularly joyous moment shows the two naked lovers laughing and chasing each other by the water; amid close-ups of the reeds and shots of birds startled by their laughter, the couple are just another part of nature, at one with the elements in their own version of Eden.
