In the history of the Cannes Film Festival, only ten directors have been awarded the prestigious Palme D’Or award on more than one occasion. Whatsmore only one of this exclusive group came from the world of Asian filmmaking. In fact, it took Japanese director Shohei Imamura, whose film career started back in the late fifties first as a writer before moving swiftly into directing, nearly thirty years to win the first of his two awards with 1983’s brutal The Ballad of Narayama. His second arrived 14 years later when after an almost decade-long hiatus Imamura unleashed the magical and touching Unagi aka The Eel.

Imamura spent much of his career poking and prodding at the underbelly of Japanese society, something that stood, particularly in those early days, in direct contrast to the likes of Ozu or Honda in its depiction of Japanese people. He had just released 1989’s Hiroshima horror Black Rain when he decided to take a break and by the time he returned with The Eel he had not only reverted to a more modest narrative, but he had also recruited his son Daisuke Tengan to help with its writing. But while The Eel may revolve around a smaller, more contained world than that of nuclear disaster, it is no less of an exploration of the human psyche even if it is framed in a world of pseudo-fantasy and magical realism.

At the start of the film, Yamashita is ‘a salary man’ – the ubiquitous white-collar worker routinely portrayed in Japanese popular culture as being tied to his employer with unwavering loyalty. On his way home one evening, Yamashita reads an anonymous letter that tells of his wife’s infidelity. Naturally suspicious, he returns early from a fishing trip to find his wife in flagrante, murdering her on the spot in a seemingly uncharacteristic, violent and brutal attack. Immediately turning himself in, The Eel goes on to tell the story of Yamashita – and said eel  – as he re-enters society, taking ownership of a rural barbershop that soon becomes a gathering point for the local band of eccentrics. Trying to settle into his new life, things, however, take a turn when Yamashita stumbles upon Keiko, a woman who has failed in an attempt to take her own life, and which sets off a whole chain of events that lead Yamashita back to a past that he has tried his best to ignore and a narrative that unpicks the emotional heart of its main characters.

The Eel has a Japanese core and is firmly focused on its people - a subject close to Imamura’s heart. “I love all the characters in my films, even the loutish and frivolous ones. I want every one of my shots to express this love.” There is a delicacy and intricacy here that takes time to grow, built around the film’s simple and unerringly tragic premise. This is in no small part thanks to Imamura’s direction and his quirky, almost lackadaisical approach, less concerned about tying up loose ends and more concerned with the unwavering compassion towards his characters. Likewise, Imamura’s sympathetic direction is rewarded by some wonderful, nuanced performances - not least those of our two leads, Takuro Yamashita played by Kōji Yakusho, who most recently won the best actor award at Cannes for his performance in Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days and the woman he saves, Keiko Hattori, played by Misa Shimizu .

By the time Yakusho agreed to play the lead in The Eel he had firmly established himself as a leading man courtesy of 1996’s surprise box office hit Shall We Dance? It’s not an exaggeration to say his understated demeanour and subtle performance is at the crux of the film’s success. Despite the depravity of his crimes, we never turn on him; despite his only friend on earth being an eel, we stick with him and despite his, excruciating inability to open up to Keijo, we root for him. Unlike Yakusho, this was Shimizu’s first full feature role, and she does a formidable job of creating a character who has suffered at the hands of those around her and yet has sufficient faith to build an idiosyncratic relationship with her lifesaver. A nod must also go to the barbershop crowd, veteran actor Fumie Hattori as Keijo’s mother and Tomorowo Taguchi as the rogue Eiji Dojima, who all play a part in giving The Eel both depth and to some extent, comic interest.

Effectively written, the path to the film’s completion was a slightly torturous one that saw father and son duo Imamura and Tengan settle their creative differences to produce a script that works beautifully.  In fact, one of three excellent features on this new High-Definition Blu-ray (which includes both the theatrical and slightly longer Director’s cut) is Tengan’s insight into his relationship with his father, how they made a success of The Eel and Tengan’s future career as writer and filmmaker in his own right working with the likes of Takashi Miike. There’s also an interview with elder statesman and commentator Tony Rayns, who gives a comprehensive review of the film’s backstory, the context in which it was made, insight into Imamura as a filmmaker and naturally, an in-depth critique of the film. Finally, writer and Japanese film expert Tom Mes discusses 1997 - the year in which, after so much time in the wilderness eyes once again began to turn back to Japanese cinema thanks to a series of ‘new-new wave’ releases including The Eel.

A delightful film with marvellous performances – The Eel demands repeated viewings to get to the heart of what lies beneath this seemingly simple story of a man looking to leave his past behind. With a beautiful restoration and a bounty of bonus features to boot, this is a surefire winner.