Bitter Honey (蜜のあわれ)

"Bliss it is to love someone."

Master, did I distract you?

Your sketches won't bring money.

Except if I sell them.

A magazine made me an offer.

This is me.

The bulgy eyes.

It is really me.

And then...

And how much did they pay for it?

$20.

And where is my fee?

Uh?

This is me, isn't it?

Both the model and the artist contributed.

Hey.

Going out.

Master, say it to me.

"Bliss it is to love someone."

I won't.

It would be nice to hear it.

I'd like a man to say it to me.

Waiting.

Waiting.

I won't say it.

Some words can't be uttered.

Master, you're boring.

Old as you are, you shouldn't be shy.

How can you be a writer?

You're quite a sophist.

I don't see what being a writer has to do here.

Where should I go?

Buy a friend at the fish shop...

an eel...

a mackerel...

a rice fish...

a frog...

a ruby fish.

You'll be back for tea?

Lately ruffians are running wild in the neighborhood.

And also...

I forbid you to sneak out from the second floor.

Yet staying here I may soon perish...

bored to death.

You forgot this.

I mustn't.

Thank you.

Listen.

At five o'clock...

the road forks two ways.

One way leads to the remains of the day...

the other to the birth of the night.

If you get confused at that fork...

you may not make it back.

Alright?

Aye aye, sir, I won't be confused at the five o'clock forked road.

I'm going.

"Bliss..."

"Bliss it is..."

Bitter Honey

Nikaido Fumi

Oosugi Ren

Maki Youko

Kan Hanae

Ueda Kouichi, Iwaido Kiyoko Shibukawa Kiyohiko

Kora Kengo

Nagashio Masatoshi

Executive Producers

Producers

Script writer Minato Takehiko a novel of Murou Saisei (1889-1962)

Music

Costumes, accessories, hair

Director Ishii Gakuryu (1957-)

Her Bridal Night

Ouch, it hurts.

Stray cats, they chased me in an open field.

I know that type of cats.

I told you there were ruffians.

What do we do about it?

In fact, ...

I need you to heal it.

Heal it?

You heal it with your saliva.

Your anatomy is so human.

Are you not displaying your fins?

My fins will come out when I relax...

then you'll find a slit that you'll part gently...

there you'll apply saliva until it is well wet.

That will heal the wound.

The split is severe.

Human or gold fish, these spheres are splendid.

Taking care of your buttocks I lose track of time.

One could walk the whole world...

and never find such gentle landscape.

I'd like to draw these too.

Master, what are you doing?

A friend of mine said...

he wanted to take his own life laying on a butt.

Isn't that soft, smooth surface the best heaven to die on?

Nowhere else.

Enough, you're losing your restraint.

Well, mind you...

people reaching the age of 70 or 80

can still be overwhelmed by lust.

Simply, they don't confess it.

Lustfulness is born...

when inadvertently glancing at beauty.

This beauty...

Is the origin of art.

Pervert.

Behind that cloud of lofty arguments...

you can't hide your true nature.

Human or goldfish boys are all the same.

Your sight is blurred...

and your hearing is hard.

One must take care of one's heart...

and in the same measure of one's genitals.

Master.

Anyway, let us commit to the task at hand.

There.

We're done.

You closed it beautifully.

It is even better than before.

Now I am in a bouncy mood.

It is like a fire.

I had a dream yesterday...

a goldfish swimming in the vast ocean...

cruising like a flame...

A goldfish cruising the ocean.

Father.

Father.

Could you bring my medicine?

It is past 5 o'clock and Kazue-chan is not back yet.

See you tomorrow.

Good night.

I'll bring it now.

Literature unlike the other fields of knowledge...

if it doesn't spring from the heart...

it is unable to fulfill its mission.

To the point that sometimes...

despite the opposition of parents or relatives...

even at the risk of losing family ties...

some people surrender to the literary calling.

My love for literature...

dragged me up to Tokyo at 21...

and frankly, I was lost...

in a state of confusion.

Until the age of 30, I didn't get a decent job.

And without any prospect or opportunity...

I kept writing novellas and novels.

Reaching the age of 30...

- But that is my particular experience -...

I had been writing novels for 10 years...

and I felt my well had dried out...

that I was done as a writer.

I felt fettered, hands and feet, desperate.

My literary drive...

had come to exhaustion.

I couldn't find any source of inspiration.

Reaching that dead-end...

was extremely painful.

As I matured...

I couldn't marvel at anything...

nothing was worthy of my interest.

A writer should be curious about the world...

My vision suddenly darkened.

Thank you very much.

Excuse me... if I ask a silly question.

You take water everywhere you go?

I need water at all times.

This gourd belongs to the Master, doesn't it?

Long ago I asked the Master to take a look at my writing.

That was 15 years ago I believe.

Say...

Are you a relative of the Master?

Rather, I would say that I help him at home.

Maybe you could say, I am his secretary.

Secretary? How old are you?

How old could I be?

Probably about 17.

The way you talk, you're so cute.

Your clothes are also very cute.

Does the Master find you cute?

Are you eating together?

Sometimes we even sleep together.

It is so cold, I love it.

I never felt like this before.

Don't press too hard.

You have to stroke my tail very gently.

That's it.

The same way water caresses it.

Say Master...

do you think that in the whole world...

anything surpasses this?

Your tail?

Sorry, please forget what I just said.

Don't be mad if I ask.

With the Master...

do you have a special bond?

That is, when you go to bed at night...