In 1936, Gion no Shimai (Sisters of Gion) was released by Kenji Mizoguchi, bringing about what many thought to be a new style of filmmaking. Seen by "Western eyes," the film is indeed a world apart from your typical Hollywood fare. Camera movement in Sisters of Gion is very limited, as is the use of short takes or any kind of rapid cutting. The film is sixty-nine minutes long, and it's comprised of only one hundred and thirty shots, some of which break the three-minute mark. Montage (in the traditional sense) is an unknown concept in Sisters of Gion, as is the notion of zoom or "invisible" editing. When the camera does move, it is usually in a pan, dolly, or the one of the few tracking shots in the film. Mizoguchi approaches this film in a style that incorporates an almost mathematical appraisal to what is seen on the two-dimensional screen. He employs a geometric symmetry of mise-en-scene, which is heightened by a generous use of deep space, deep focus, and the regular abuse of the off-screen space. With this concept, he achieves a balance on screen that is unique and entirely his own.
    Mizoguchi applies this symmetrical theme by often situating the actors/actresses on screen in threes; sometimes in a diagonal row, sometimes in a triangular fashion, and almost always on different planes. A notable example is in shot two of the film, in which you have three characters in a diagonal row on the screen, almost like a line pointing north-east. Mr. Furusawa's helper is first in the chain and closest to the camera, almost centered on the screen. His back is to the camera, and he is looking north-east through a doorway at Mr. Furusawa's wife, who is packing a suitcase. Behind and to the north-east of her is a woman holding a baby. Each character is on a different plane, and each is at a different depth on the screen. One could compare the character's placement within the shot to specific points on a graph, carefully thought out and plotted in order to establish linearity. Another key aspect to the balance of this shot is the contrasting colors of the characters. The helper wears white, Furusawa's wife wears gray, and the woman walking the baby wears black and gray. This is another tool that Mizoguchi uses in his mise-en-scene; characters wear contrasting colors, which set them apart from each other and in turn compliment the background. This is especially present in the first part of the second shot of the film, before the camera has panned to reveal the women and the baby. Mr. Furusawa is talking with his helper, who has his back to the camera and is in the lower right of the screen. Furusawa sits across from the helper and faces the camera. Furusawa is clad in black and has a white wall behind his left shoulder and a black and shadowed space behind his right shoulder. The helper is clad in bright white, with a white wall to his right and the black shadowed space above his head. So, in the south-east and north-west corners of the screen you have white, and in the upper right of the screen you have this black area, which almost seems to meld with Furusawa. To the lower right of Furusawa is the helper, who just about glows in the dazzling white of his outfit. The background sets off the color scheme, and equilibrium is created on the screen through the extreme black and white contrasts of the characters.
    In Sisters of Gion, Mizoguchi achieves montage not by rapid cutting but by symmetrical and balanced mise-en-scene. This is most prominent in his use of straight lines and angles to create shots that are almost geometric in quality. In countless scenes throughout the film we see the use of vertical and sometimes horizontal bars, mostly in the form of windows. Two shots immediately come to the forefront of this concept; the first is in shot sixty, in which Omocha seduces her future and short-lived patron, and the second is shot fifteen, in which we see geishas lazing about in a brothel. In shot sixty, the windows in the background are crisscrossed with black bars punctuated by the sunshine streaming in between them. It aids in giving the shot an angular perspective, as the camera is catty-cornered in its viewpoint of the room. The lines on the floor run north-east to the windows, where they then turn upward to the jail bar-looking windows. Rarely in this film do we see a room straight on; the rooms are always shot from a direction that makes them diamond-like in shape, not square. One could call it "a diagonal approach." In shot fifteen, we have a brief ten-second look into a room full of geishas. In the background we see yet another slatted wall, with light spilling through the spaces between the vertical, prison-like bars. The beauty of the effect is crystallized as a man flies by on a bicycle outside, casting a fleeting shadow on those inside.
    This shot again exhibits Mizoguchi's inclination to use the "three person effect," but this time in a triangular sense. We see one geisha in profile lying on the floor and facing west, with her legs cut off by curtains. Another geisha lies on the floor next to the first, but facing the camera, so we only see her face and arms. A third geisha is in the background, examining herself in a mirror. The women form a triangle, and each is farther back in the screen than the one before her. The whole shot is framed by curtains on either side of the screen, which further encourage the clean lines established by the slatted wall. The "diagonal approach" is also notable in the numerous shots depicting the hallway that leads to the sister's apartment. The hallway is never shot from the same spot twice, but it is always at a diagonal angle. The effect adds a great deal of depth, especially in shot thirty-eight (in which we see Ume coming down the hallway towards the camera), and in shot ninety-nine, where the cab driver comes to pick up Omocha. In this particular shot we see a cab pull up to the mouth of the hallway at the very back of the screen. The driver gets out, and proceeds to walk down the corridor. The lights hanging in the hallway help to show the distance of the passage, like an arrow pointing to the car at the end. This viewpoint implies a great distance, as if the sisters live very deep within the Geisha quarters. It could also signify the low level of their social status and how far they will have to go to advance it. Either way, the path to the sister's house is never shown from a frontal perspective, and it seems as if Mizoguchi was trying to inhibit a sense of separation from the outside world.
    In Sisters of Gion, Mizoguchi constructs a frame in which the main action isn't always given the benefit of the immediate foreground. The action is rarely centered on the screen, and it isn't always shown from an un-obstructed viewpoint. Characters often walk behind partitions, through curtains, and tend to be half on-screen and off-screen. The camera tracks their movement, but rarely bothers to directly follow their progress through obstacles or behind walls. In shot one-hundred and twenty-seven, (the hospital scene), the camera pans and follows Omocha as she is carried to the recovery room, which is almost completely blocked from sight. We see the slatted outside wall of the room, but we can barely make out what is going on through the narrow spaces between each plank. It almost looks as if the sisters are in a jail cell. This shot lasts over two and a half minutes long, and it's slightly frustrating to not be able to see what is going on. This part of the shot isn't centered either, as the action takes place on the left side of the screen. Another good example is in shot seventeen, where the characters walk on and off-screen as if they were in a play on a stage. Furusawa is there at first, and then he gets up and walks off stage left. Ume gets up, walks toward the back of the screen, and then a man in chef attire enters stage right. Ume then exits stage left, while the chef waits. Then Ume comes back, reporting that she has no money for the chef, who then exits stage right. Throughout all this the camera remains fixated, capturing only the action directly in front of it. We see another form of this in shot twenty-six, as the sisters and Mr. Furusawa entertain the drunken Jurukado. Only half of Ume can be seen; the rest of her is off-screen on the right. This happens again in shot nineteen, when Kimura arrives at the sister's house to say hello. Ume is again seen only partially on the right side of the frame.
    An interesting variation on this employment of the off-screen space is displayed in the twenty-first shot of the film, in which Omocha is talking with Kimura and successfully suckering him into giving her cloth for a kimono. He is sitting and listening to her talk, and then she walks off-screen. However, the camera doesn't budge, and instead we follow Kimura's eyes off-screen, presumably on Omocha. In most films, the camera usually follows whoever is talking, but that isn't the strategy used here. We see it again in shot thirty-two, where a sober Jurukado attempts to leave the company of Omocha. He gets up from the table and walks towards the door, the camera panning and following his movement. He then stands by the door, putting on his coat. This whole time Omocha has been continuing the conversation by herself, and yet the camera stays on Jurukado. In this and other points in the film, the camera stays on the person listening, not the person talking. Mizoguchi seems to be illustrating the fact that the effect of what is being said is more important than the actual cause; the reaction of the listener is the key element, not the action of the speaker. Most of the shots within Sisters of Gion are long shots, but they tend to fluctuate between full and "knee" shots as the characters move about the screen. Within all, however, Mizoguchi displays his penchant for deep space and focus. One shot exhibiting extreme deep space is shot forty, in which Omocha is telling her sister that Mr. Furusawa has left and is not returning. Omocha is positioned at the very back of the screen, presumably in her bedroom. She stands with the narrow doorway framing her, brightly illuminated windows flanking her on both sides as she talks to her sister. She is centered in the frame, a strange occurrence in this film. Her sister is closer to the front of the screen and on the right, sitting at the ever present-table. A light above her head illuminates her like a spotlight. The screen is divided by a deep band of black shadow that lies between the two sisters, which makes the distance separating them appear much greater than it is. It isn't enough that Omocha dresses modernly and Ume dresses in the more traditional attire; Mizoguchi drives the point home further by placing each on opposite sides of this black chasm. All of this is perfectly clear within the shot, even though both characters are far from the camera's eye. But the best example of this is in shot forty-eight, in which Kimura is being reprimanded by his master. On the left of the screen we see a close-up of the master's face in profile, naturally cut-off by the side of the frame. He is facing and talking to Kimura, who occupies the lower right of the screen. We see Kimura from about the waist up, (MCU) and he is angled towards the master's face. Behind and to the left of Kimura we see a pair of curtains, and in the small space between the two curtains we see another person, far back in the screen and mostly obscured by the curtains. In the top-left of the screen we see a fourth person from the waist up who appears to be working on something, and he is far back in the screen as well. Each character occupies a different quadrant of the screen, and each is literally a different size in reference to his distance from the camera. The curtains and a partition in the wall further segment the shot, isolating Kimura from his master and the other two workers. The end result is a balanced and focused shot representing four different planes within the frame.
    Throughout all sixty-nine minutes of Sisters of Gion, one can't help but appreciate the linearity that Mizoguchi brings to the mise-en-scene of his shots. Although some things tend to be cut off by the boundaries of the frame, the overall impact is one of structure. The long takes give the viewer ample time to digest the carefully mapped out order of Mizoguchi's shots, and the masterful use of all sides and corners of the screen encourage the viewer to question the proliferation of the Western style. In all, Mizoguchi's style in Sisters of Gion is a well-executed example of the benefits of clean lines and balanced symmetry, coupled with a proportioned density that results in an eye-opening cinematic experience.