Criterion Pigs And Battleships

In post-war Japan, people are working hard, but never so much more than the Yakuza. In the city of Yokosuka, Kinta and his lover Haruko brave the post-occupation period with a goal to be together… too bad her family has agreed to sell her to the highest bidding Yank in Japan.
While Kinta deals with his relationship with Haruko, his Yakuza clan is faced with a serious problem. Sakiyama, a Hawaii-born Japanese ex-naval officer, is providing the clan with the scraps they need to feed their pigs… but with strings and dollars attached. As the gang shells out more and more money, Sakiyama begins to move his alliances..and so do the members of the gang.
With the big boss in the hospital and the gang falling to pieces, only the pigs remain a constant occurrence in the life of Kinta. However, he doesn't realize what he has until its too late.

In the 1960s, Japanese filmmakers responded to a stale studio system by looking for fresh ways to tell stories, and Shohei Imamura was one of the leading figures of this new wave. With the three films in this set—Pigs and Battleships, The Insect Woman, and Intentions of Murder—Imamura truly emerged as an auteur, bringing to his national cinema an anthropological eye and a previously unseen taste for the irreverent. Claiming his interests lay in “the relationship of the lower part of the human body and the lower part of the social structure,” Imamura dotted the decade with earthy, juicy, idiosyncratic films featuring persevering, willful heroines. His remains a unique cinematic voice.

Comparing his heroine, Tome Matsuki (played by Sachiko Hidari, who won the “Best Actress” award at the 1964 Berlin Film Festival for the role) to the restlessness and survival instincts of worker insects, the film is an unsparing study of working-class female life. Beginning with Tome’s birth in 1918, it follows her through five decades of social change, several improvised careers, and male-inflicted cruelty. Elliptically plotted, brimming over with black humour and taboo material, and immaculately staged in crystalline NikkatsuScope, The Insect Woman is arguably Imamura’s most radical and emphatic testament to female resilience.

Presenting a vast chronicle of life on the remote Kurage Island, the film centres on the disgraced, superstitious, interbred Futori family and the Tokyo engineer sent to supervise the creation of a new well - an encounter which leads to both conflict and complicity in strange and powerful ways.