Even though I'm Christian and have always been brought up considering the act of suicide a 'taboo' subject, I have always held great respect for both the Japanese way of doing so to save face, and the thoroughly romantic notion, say, from the likes of 'Romeo and Juliet' (with Shakespeare's writings being probably the cornerstone of Western thought)--so from two completely different cultural perspectives--that a life without the one you love is not worth living.I had previously only seen two of Masahiro Shinoda's other works for The Criterion Collection--the earlier works 'Pale Flower' and 'Samurai Spy', and I don't know if it was on purpose by the company in selecting the titles, but I marveled at the breathtaking variety of his scripts, all from such a short timespan (1964-69). Being a patron of the theatre (in many different modes) and as anthropologically cosmopolitan in my approach to life as is conceivable, I salute Shinoda with a profound respect, and look forward to investigating as many of his other works as possible.

Based on a 18th century bunraku play (Japanese form of puppet theater) by Chikamatsu, Double Suicide revolves around the star-crossed love of paper merchant Jihei and courtesan Koharu. The problem in Jihei's case however is twofold. First he's a married man and second he can't afford to pay the brothel Koharu works in and redeem her. In the face of their unrequisite and impossible love, Jihei and Koharu decide to commit suicide together - the inevitably tragic conclusion the title refers to.Double Suicide is a three-act filmed play but it's director Masahiro Shinoda's command of the craft that transforms it into something more. Since the original is a bunraku puppet play, he opens the film with modern bunraku actors preparing for it and after the credits sequence switches the puppets for real actors.The puppet masters however remain present for the entire movie, dressed in black suits, looking all the same, mute and mostly motionless, like artificial props and part of the set decoration they're charged with changing. Indeed they remove and change sets, actively take part in the action and interact with the actors and even freeze narrative time for our convenience but the best part (and a testament to Shinoda's talent) is that they never call attention to themselves as a gimmick.They blend seamlessly with the combination of traditional and abstract painted sets and there are times you forget they're even present in the scene until they move. What they do mostly however is observe. Shinoda's direction is as usual perfect - enhanced by Criterion's pristine transfer, Double Suicide is a feast for the eyes shot in stark black and white, where the black is black and the white is white.Related to Shinoda's excellent directorial skills, a common conception about him is that he's a director easy to admire but hard to love. I think Double Suicide effectively combines the best of both worlds - the technical prowess of a master cinematician with a touching and tragic love story, with universal roots but a very traditionally Japanese approach - the conflict between duty (giri) and passion (ninjo).

A mesmerizing film which asks deep questions about the role interplay] of fate and free will in human actions. The occasional appearance of hooded background figures and their actions, sometimes just to change the scenery, is done in such a casual manner that it underlines the view that we are not always in full command of what is perceived to be our reality. The ending is truly stunning. A one of a kind experience!

"Double Suicide" is a bunraku puppet performance at its core, with perhaps the only difference being that actual humans play the roles of the puppets.The puppet masters, their faces covered with thin black silk masks, move around props, rapidly change the minimal sets, never interfering with the plot or the characters, yet moving them forward and cooperating with them in a way that is not at all distracting.The puppets themselves are finely crafted, and the characters that they play present a depth of humanity that is rare in all forms of staged entertainment (whether it be a movie, a play, or the like). Being puppets, however, the viewer is left feeling detached from them, even if there is a sense of humanity present that one can grasp. Oddly enough, that is a good thing in this case - it increases the sense of how the only thing that one could do when the tragic events unfold is to watch.This is not a film for all tastes, obviously. But the same statement can apply to the bunraku puppet play that this movie is based on. This performance is pulled off with perfection, and I highly recommend it.10 out of 10