Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters
- R
- Year:
- 1985
- 121 min
- 1,795 Views
Yukio Mishima was
Japan's most celebrated author.
On his death, he left
a body of work consisting of
35 novels, 25 plays, 200 short stories
and 8 volumes of essays.
Both his personal life and artistic works
were closely followed by the general public.
On November 25, 1970, Mishima
and 4 cadets from his private army
entered the Eastern Army Headquarters,
forcibly detained the commander
and addressed the garrison.
Improved & Timing by
cycles
FRANCIS FORD COPPOLA AND GEORGE LUCAS
P R E S E N A FILM BY PAUL SCHRADER
"Mishima"
.
"Mishima"
a life in four chapters
ORIGINAL MUSIC COMPOSED
AND ARRANGED BY:
PHILIP GLASS:
WRITTEN BY:
PAUL SCHRADER & LEONARD SCHRADER
1- Beauty ... "Temple of the Golden Pavilion"
2- Art ... "Kyoko's House"
3- Action ... "Runaway Horses"
4- Harmony of Pen and Sword
1- Beauty
Good morning.
Good morning, Mr. Mishima.
Would you like breakfast now?
Not today.
What about the children?
Your wife's already
taken them to school.
Recently I've sensed
an accumulation of many things
which cannot be expressed
by an objective form like the novel. TO
SHINCHOSHA PUBLISHING CO. NOVEMBER 25, 1970
Words are insufficient.
So I found
another form of expression.
Is everything as planned?
Read these in the car.
I'll be right out.
Did you get my letter?
Don't worry. You'll find
And bring a photographer.
When I examine
my early childhood,
I see myself as a boy
leaning at the window...
forever watching a world
I was unable to change,
forever hoping
I was taken from my mother
by my grandmother.
Close the curtain!
It's almost time
for him to visit his mother.
No! I need him to rub my legs.
Tell her
I'm too sick this week.
Next week.
You would have died
in your mother's care.
must not go outdoors.
If you want her so much,
just go!
Leave me forever!
Be a good boy
and rub my legs.
That's wonderful.
Only you can make
Grandma feel better.
I looked after
my grandmother's failing health.
She entertained me with stories
and provided playmates.
On special occasions,
she arranged
trips to the theater.
- Watch it!
- Sorry.
Don't apologize
to these commoners.
When I was a girl,
people still had
a modicum of manners.
Eat your lunch.
Look. All this riff-raff.
You're just a fragile plant.
The theater is very stimulating.
You're old enough to go now.
It would have been too much
for you before.
The stage made everything
more beautiful.
It turned men into women.
It transformed the entire world.
Look this way.
Look up, sweet.
When I was 12,
my grandmother, then dying,
permitted me to return
to the care of my mother.
Later that year
All right, you cowards!
Who's next?
Who is this? The poet?
Mr. Tough.
I'm shaking.
- You'll get killed!
- Mama's boy!
In my earliest years,
I realized life consisted
of two contradictory elements.
One was words,
The other was the world itself,
which had nothing to do with words.
For the average person,
the body precedes language.
In my case,
words came first.
Temple of the Golden Pavilion
Published 1956
I can't hear
a word you're saying.
Your name's Mizoguchi.
I know what you want.
To be friends
because we're both cripples.
Your stuttering
and my frog feet.
That's all right.
I do too.
You're still a virgin, right?
Yeah, I thought so.
No success with girls,
and not enough guts
to go to a whore.
If you're looking for another virgin,
you struck out with me.
Stutter!
Go ahead and stutter.
Virgins are beautiful,
but there's nothing
beautiful about you.
Guys like us
are just like beautiful girls.
We get sick
It's like...
a m-m-mirror...
you can't b-b-break.
You're so self-important.
You make too big a deal
about your stuttering.
I suppose you're a damn poet.
G- G-Golden Pavilion.
It's too beautiful.
An acolyte.
Even worse.
Face the fact
you'll never be loved.
It's the same for everybody.
You can trick girls
into loving your deformity
instead of hating it.
Come on. I'll show you.
Damn!
You did that on purpose!
What can I do?
You just going to walk away?
Help me up.
My house
is around the corner.
Suddenly I came across
a picture
whose only purpose had been to lie
in wait for centuries and ambush me.
of the youth's body
hung against the tree trunk,
his hands tied by thongs.
I trembled with joy.
My loins swelled.
My hand unconsciously began
a motion it had never been taught.
My need to transform reality
was an urgent necessity,
as important
as three meals a day or sleep.
Beautiful.
Mm, really.
Scenic beauty is hell,
isn't it?
Take that one up the path
and screw her.
She wants it.
B- b-but how?
Make her pity your stutter.
Make her worship it.
That's why we're here.
Stutter!
Maybe she'll fall in love
with a stutterer.
Do you stutter?
Well, are all the deformities
here today?
Let's split up.
We'll meet here again
in two hours.
D- d-do you want
to go home?
He's gone off
and made her feel she's a saint.
That's his usual trick.
H- h-how do you know?
Oh, come on.
How do you think?
What are you doing?
What's wrong?
Just as I thought.
It seems you haven't
been going to school.
Have you been ill?
Master...
That's no way
for a Zen acolyte to behave.
Master...
Nothing's that unbearable.
You'll get over it.
No. Everything...
is p-p-powerless.
What happened?
She ran away?
It was as s-s-small as this
but grew so big.
It filled the world...
like tremendous music.
That's the p-p-power...
of beauty's eternity.
It poisons us.
It blocks out...
our lives.
Please, enough of your pride!
Beauty is like a rotten tooth.
It rubs against your tongue,
hurting,
insisting on its own importance.
Finally you go to a dentist
and have it pulled.
Then you look at the small
bloody tooth in your hand
and say,
"Is that all it was?"
That's the way it is.
Only knowledge
can turn life's unbearableness
into a weapon.
Beauty...
is now...
my enemy.
Life is b-b-bearable
only when I imagine...
the G-Golden Pavilion...
has been destroyed.
The American b-b-bombers
will come.
Then...
I'll be free.
When I was 18,
my class was assigned air-raid duty.
and poems
but dreamed only
of joining the war
and dying for the emperor.
I wanted to explode
like a rocket,
light the sky for an instant
and disappear.
I took the pen name
Yukio Mishima.
What are you doing?
Nothing.
I thought you were at Lit. Club.
You kidding?
That mediocre bunch?
You should try to make
more friends, sweet.
It's not good
to be alone so much.
" This is no precocious genius.
He is not a writer.
And never will be. "
What's this?
That's a " respected" poet.
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/mishima:_a_life_in_four_chapters_13837>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In