The Face of Another (1966) Hiroshi Teshigahara

Even though Teshigara is a great and well-known director, I had only seen one of his films, Woman in the Dunes... which I had loved.  So, when I ran into The Face of Another, I did not hesitate, despite the fact that I hadn't heard anything about it.

This film blew my mind.  I know these philosophical questions and confrontations about identity and masks are really old and have been explored a thousand of times in cinema (Kagemusha, Being John Malkovich, The Man in the Iron Mask, Synecdoche New York, Zelig, The Mask) just for naming a few of them, but I think this is one of the best works I've seen on the subject.

Since you never get to see Mr. Okuyama before the accident, you can't picture his face.  He could be just anybody, there's no way of recognizing him... the man without a face.  Just as the character says it, you'll never remember him,  not even as the man with the face of another.  But what does this mean?  Is he identity-less just as he is faceless?  Anybody could steal his identity because he doesn't own it.  He looks in the mirror and there's nothing there, not a smile... nor a frown.

How can "the inside be what matters" when there's no expression of it on the exterior?  There's no communication between your interior and the world outside.  It's like being the best guitar player but never letting anybody listen to you play... does it matter that you're the best if there's no proof of it? can you be the best without no one knowing?  The same applies... Can you be happy without the ability to share a smile?  can you connect in a deeper level with anybody at all, if you can't even share a look?  All these philosophical teachings that tell us not to pay attention to the outside, not to judge a book by its cover, are being unhealthily radical. Our face, our surface is the main connection to our inside, if it's broken or damaged, holes will be left in our being that will later need to be filled.

Later on, Teshigahara gives the story a very interesting twist... right when the psychiatrist gives him his "mask" or his new identity.  The way he tries to seduce his wife, whom he feels doesn't love him anymore, as somebody else... I find that perversely natural.  Then, when he finally achieves it... just the idea of having lost his wife to himself... because in the end he is Mr. Okuyama before the accident, just as he is the man with the bandages mask, and the man with the face of another... but why is it that he feels more like himself as a man with no face than as a man with the face of another? If the inside is truly what matters, that makes no sense whatsoever, yet it is also true that we perceive the faceless Mr. Okuyama completely different from the face-of-another Mr. Okuyama.  Why is that?  Is  it just us being seduced by his new face or could it be, that he is changing his inside depending on his outside?  I think he just feels more comfortable having an open dialog with the outside world and that reflects on both his mood and our perception of him.

I think this movie deserves to be seen many more times... and deserves to be written about, even more, because there is just to much to it.  I would just like to close paraphrasing the last that is said in the movie:  Some masks can be removed, but some can't.