Story: When a feudal war calls the local men to action, a mother and her daughter-in-law struggle to survive. Forced to resort to acts of murder, the two women prey upon lost samurai, killing any passer-bys under the safety of the reed covered marshes that surround their home. This hand-to-mouth way of life proves sufficient enough to sustain, and the two scrounge out a meager existence by selling their loot to a local profiteer.

One night, a neighbor, returning from the field of battle, arrives famished and exhausted from his travels. He proceeds to explain to the two women how their husband/son was slaughtered before his very eyes. His arrival sets the foundation for a frightfully sensual whirlwind of lust, envy, and murder, the likes of which may send the entire trio head first into hell.

Review: Onibaba harkens back to a time when bells and whistles weren’t necessary in order to captivate an audience. With its simple premise and dark yet strangely beautiful execution, it quickly sets the hook deep within the mind’s eye, grabbing your attention from the get-go. The story begins with the grizzly depiction of our two female leads, a woman and her daughter-in-law, viciously slaughtering a pair of lost samurai. Not exactly the subtlety that one would expect from a story derived from an ancient Japanese fable, but it’s this same since of freedom that sets Onibaba ahead of the pack.

From here, the meat of the plot is all about escalating tensions and impassioned interactions. The men of the village have been gone for quite some time and Mother has grown quite accustomed to having her daughter-in-law/partner-in-murder around. But despite their dependency on one another, a Mother’s love soon turns to hate when the Daughter-in-law takes up with Hachi, the virile young neighbor who is as lazy as he is untrustworthy. Initially seen by Mother as not only a war deserter, but most likely the cause of her son’s death, Hachi soon begins to embody an entire world of problems for the household. It seems Mother, despite her age, also longs for the touch of a man as well, and the sight of the two embracing sets ablaze within her the fires of envy. Anger, fear, and jealousy become one, as Mother soon realizes that this new arrangement may eventually leave her high and dry. Add to all this the late night arrival of a mysterious masked samurai and a plan soon ignites involving a demonic visage and the daughter-in-law’s natural fear of hell.

Simple yet interesting narratives aside, the magic of Onibaba comes together through the marriage of subject and camera. At times gravely still and voyeuristic, at others, frightfully haunting, the cinematography breathes as much life into this film as any of the characters it captures. Reeds blow to and fro with an almost doomed glide, like ghostly pantomime expressing the horrors that have taken place amongst their ranks. Shadows scurry about in the recesses of each shot as though they were actually plotting an opportune setting for murder. If atmosphere makes a horror film, then Onibaba reigns supreme.

With all of the attention that Asian horror has been getting as of late, it is nice to see a relic from the past that stands the test of time. Perhaps not as horrific as some of its present day counterparts, Onibaba should still manage to please the film connoisseurs out there with its ethereal imagery and its handling of the darker aspects of lust and hate.