Helkenn 1
Marie Helkenn
GS 325
Strecher
5 May 2014
What the Hell: An Analysis of Horror and The Gothic in Akutagawa’s “Hell Screen”
The Gothic movement, which is characterized by its use of decay, terror, and horror, has
been present in literature for centuries in various forms, such as characterization, atmosphere,
and setting. As a whole, the genre is known for labyrinthine settings, dark tones, and the everpresent threat of horror or terror. As previously noted, this movement has existed for
centuries and has spanned across the globe, injecting itself into different cultures and forms of
literature. Looking at the Gothic from a cross-cultural perspective, one particular work it
appears in is Akutagawa Ryūnosuke’s “Hell Screen.” The atmosphere that Akutagawa presents
lends itself to a Gothic analysis due to the nature of the screen itself, as well as the language
used to establish the setting of the narrative.
In order to fully comprehend how the Gothic manifested in Japanese literature, one
must first have an established footing in the manifestation of the European Gothic. According
to Murfin and Ray, “Gothic literature arose in England in the 1760s with the publication of
Horace Walpole’s novel The Castle of Otranto: A Gothic Story, a seminal work that inaugurated
a tradition of Gothic novels, short stories, poems, and plays that peaked around 1820” (206).
The publication of this novel opened the doors to English writers to experiment with narratives
Helkenn 2
that dwelled in the realms of horror and intrigue. Around the same time that the European
Gothic was forming in England, another form of writing, the Oriental tale, was also taking shape
at the time throughout Europe.
Scholars, like Martha Pike Conant, as noted in the article, “Japan’s Gothic Tradition” by
Henry J. Hughes, note that the development of the Oriental tale in Europe is part of a larger
Orientalist movement, in which the East was seen as exotic. According to Hughes, “For
Western readers, Chinese and Japanese literature may appear Gothic, at least in part, by virtue
of its foreignness. This orientalist image of the Japanese as dark, alluring, dangerous others
may explain the reluctance of critics to use the term Gothic for works in Japanese” (83).
Despite the hesitancy of some critics to approach Japanese literature from the Gothic sense,
there are threads, such as the fear of the unknown and the proclivity for sensation and terror,
which remain applicable to works such as “Hell Screen.”
As previously mentioned, the Gothic lends itself to the sensation and terror that is
present in literature. Considering the European Gothic, the Eastern Gothic takes this form of
writing in a slightly different direction. When the European Gothic strives to keep the self
whole and maintain the Gothic as essentially a battleground of good and evil, the Eastern
Gothic subverts this by depicting “…not a mission against some perceived singular evil but the
discovery of an undivided world of good and evil” (Hughes 60). For all intents and purposes,
the two factions approach the concepts of good and evil from two different perspectives. To
further the aforementioned point on the self, the emptying of the self, in Japanese literature, is
seen as the ultimate achievement when it comes to achievement. But why, per se, is this a
good thing?
Helkenn 3
In Japanese literature, “…a confident, independent sense of self leads the Japanese
Gothic figure towards alienation and suffering” (Hughes 75). By alienating the Gothic figure,
the writer has an opportunity for the putting that figure through their paces and making them
look inside themselves and empty their minds. This connects with Akutagawa’s work, insofar as
the fact that the main character, Yoshihide, is essentially put through the ringer and made to
suffer in the end, thus alienating his character up until, and potentially after, he commits
suicide. According to Hughes, “If all life and its successes are suffering, the Japanese Gothic
hero looks within and finds peace in mu. Whereas the Christian worries that an ideal or empty
mind invites the devil, the Buddhist empties the mind and glimpses Nirvana” (75). This lends
itself to the point that the Western tradition lent itself to viewing the emptying of the mind as a
gateway to the devil coming in and creating a battlefield of good and evil. In the end, the
Eastern tradition, particularly in the case of Akutagawa’s Yoshihide, sees that glimpse of
Nirvana in the moments of sheer horror and terror that the Gothic so produces.
Speaking of horror, the groundwork for that, in regards to Akutagawa, rests in the
violent and unpredictable nature of Yoshihide. According to Clive Bloom:
The principles upon which the horror tale is based can now be summed up.
There is always the presence of the supernatural, demonic, violent and
unpredictable, usually present without explanation or logic and glimpsed at the
moment it breaks into our world. The demonic threatens the annihilation of
human consciousness but, at the same time, assures us of continuity in the
eternal, now stripped, nevertheless, of all but a residual religiosity. (165)
Helkenn 4
But what does that mean? What Bloom is essentially saying is that the horror narrative exhibits
traits of the supernatural and the demonic, laced with violence and unpredictability. Although
these things cannot necessarily be explained, they threaten the human mind.
In “Hell Screen,” Akutagawa paints the image of Yoshihide as a demon, or monstrosity,
wherein he is completely enveloped in his work to the level of moral transgression. As noted by
Susan J. Napier in her book, The Fantastic in Modern Japanese Literature: The Subversion of
Modernity, “Akutagawa portrays an artist who transgresses moral boundaries to become
essentially a demon. The artistic presence in him has overpowered the human to the detriment
of all around him. The fact that the painting is his greatest masterpiece only adds to the irony”
(123). Yoshihide, in the end, doesn’t have much morality intact, especially after allowing his
apprentices to be attacked by what appears to be an oil-colored snake and a horned owl, then
ultimately being the justification for his daughter (and her monkey) burning alive because he
asked the lord to burn the carriage for him. His art is essentially more important than life,
when one thinks about it. According to Tsuruta Kinya, Yoshihide “…literally sacrifices what he
holds dearest in life for the sake of his art” (88). For all intents and purposes, Akutagawa
demonizes the character of Yoshihide and plays up the demonic, horrifying aspect that the
Gothic thrives on.
This demonic aspect is directly linked to the image that Akutagawa paints of hell
through Yoshihide’s hands. Take a look at this passage that shows the screen as a whole:
He had the Ten Kings of Hell and their minions over in one small corner, and
everything else—the entire screen—was enveloped in a firestorm so terrible you
thought the swirling flames were going to melt the Mountain of Sabers and the
Helkenn 5
Forest of Swords. Aside from the vaguely Chinese costumes of the Judges of the
Dark, with their swatches of yellow and indigo, all you saw was the searing color
of flames and, dancing wildly among them, black smoke clouds of hurled India
ink and flying sparks of blown-on gold dust. (Akutagawa 50-51)
Breaking down this passage, the reader is placed in this niche within the screen in which
everything is fire. The burning hell immediately gives the reader a sense of imminent danger
and terror. The connotations of some of the descriptors heighten the sense of immediacy that
Akutagawa is portraying. For example, the word choice of ‘searing’ furthers the burning image,
emphasizing the color of the flame and how it scarifies everything it comes into contact with.
Other words, like ‘firestorm’ and ‘sparks’ speak for themselves in furthering that image.
Another example of how Yoshihide is demonized and seen as a figure that evokes fear
and terror is through the eyes of the people that the narrator has spoken to. For example, the
narrator uses another work of Yoshihide’s, Five Levels of Rebirth, to capture the image of death
and decaying flesh, as well as how Yoshihide is seen as a soul thief by some because of the fearinvoking nature of his work, as well as by awkward circumstance. The narrator uses the words
of others, such as “dying celestials sighing and sobbing” and the smell of “the flesh of the dead
rotting” (48) to play up the Gothic imagery that’s rooted in decay. In regards to the soul thief
image and the invocation of fear, according to the narrator, “…Every single woman he painted
fell ill and died within three years. It was as if he had snatched their very souls from them” (48).
With that image in mind, it is almost ironic to consider the reversal in that regarding the
untimely death of his daughter.
Helkenn 6
Ultimately, the death of Yoshihide’s daughter is the crux of the narrative, wherein the
majority of the vivid imagery and conflict present themselves. According to Merrill Kaitz, “The
Hell Screen is a great work depicting Hell and the condemned—from all walks of life in all
varieties of suffering in the midst of roaring flames. The center of the picture was a blazing
carriage falling through the air, with a princess writhing in agony within. All the agonies of Hell
were focused in this image. To paint it, Yoshihide’s life had to come to a miserable end” (125).
The catalyst to this end was clearly the death of his daughter at essentially his own hands.
As the narrative progresses, the reader is given the opportunity to see the progression
of the violent, horrific nature of Yoshihide’s actions. For example, his painting process seems
innocent enough at first, but then, over the course of completing this screen, he takes extreme
measures in order to be able to accurately depict his version of hell. As the story notes,
Yoshihide crosses that moral boundary and steps into the realm of horror and terror, or frankly,
the realm of “what the hell.” By allowing his apprentice(s) to be subjected to an attack via
black snake then by horned owl, the natural progression of his skill takes a dark turn and casts
the narrative in a questionable light. As noted in the narrative, “[The apprentice] felt so
lost…that the familiar studio felt like a haunted valley deep in the mountains, with the smell of
rotting leaves, the spray of a waterfall, the sour fumes of fruit stashed away by a monkey; even
the dim glow of the master’s oil lamp on its tripod looked to him like misty moonlight in the
hills” (58). This particular passage exhibits that natural progression by instilling fear in the
apprentice, as well in the reader. The lurking violence of a potentially fatal snake and an
equally fatal bird ads a layer conception to the narrative that exudes the Gothic idea of fear
from the unknown. At first, the apprentice didn’t know what this bird was, and no one really
Helkenn 7
knows what kind of snake that was, but it probably wasn’t a friendly one. By embedding that
fear and lurking terror in the narrative, it allows for a deeper level of understanding
linguistically and symbolically.
The final act of completing the screen, as previously mentioned, was the painting of the
carriage. The carriage is symbolic in the fact that it serves as a vessel for the Gothic and the
destruction that Yoshihide’s breach of the moral boundary has wrought. As the focal point of
the screen painting, Akutagawa juxtaposes this in the narrative so that the carriage (and its
contents) was central to the narrative. In looking at the final burn scene from a Gothic
perspective, the imagery and the atmosphere it exudes is dark and graphic, whether that be
Yoshihide’s ideal or the ideal the lord gave Yoshihide moments before the burn happened or
the actual description that the narrator gives as it is happening. The following passage is
Yoshihide’s ideal image of the woman in hell:
In the carriage, a voluptuous noblewoman writhes in agony, her long black hair
tossing in the ferocious flames. Her face…well, perhaps she contorts her brows
and casts her gaze skyward toward the ceiling of the cabin as she chokes on the
rising clouds of smoke. Her hands might tear at the cloth streamers of the
carriage blinds as she struggles to ward off the shower of sparks raining down
upon her. Around her swarm fierce, carnivorous birds, perhaps a dozen or more,
snapping their beaks in anticipation. (64-65)
This image of the ideal lends itself to the Gothic once again in its language choice and image
composition. For example, ‘ferocious flames’ connotes the image of warlike, violent fire that
can be interpreted contextually as all consuming. The elicitation of pain from words like
Helkenn 8
‘agony,’ ‘contorts,’ ‘writhes,’ ‘chokes,’ and ‘tear’ amp up the fear factor that is so common in
this particular style of writing.
In comparison, the ideal image that the feudal lord painted was equally gruesome;
however it was in a different, darker fashion. He states, “Chained inside the carriage is a sinful
woman. When we set the carriage afire, her flesh will be roasted, her bones will be charred;
she will die an agonizing death. Never again will you have such a perfect model for the screen.
Do not fail to watch as her snow-white flesh erupts in flames” (68). The language in this
particular passage, as mentioned earlier, is of a darker nature. Phrases like ‘roasted’ and
‘charred’ signify that the lord believes that there will be nothing left of the woman he
condemned to die in the carriage. The fact that he says that Yoshihide will never have another
chance like this is also a little off-putting in the fact that the lord is the manipulating the
situation from the background. The reader is put on shaky ground as to his justification for
selecting Yoshihide’s daughter, but it was never addressed within the narrative. Either way, the
lord is a vindictive prick that seems to have a hate-filled attitude towards Yoshihide.
Thirdly, in comparison, there’s the actual burning of Yoshihide’s daughter, which
presents a vivid Gothic image through its use of color contrast, images that evoke shock and
awe with the reader and characters, and the lurking dread that something bad is going to
happen. In this case, it’s hell. The following passage is the description Akutagawa’s narrator
gives of the scene:
The fire engulfed the entire carriage. The purple roof tassels blew aside, then
clouds of smoke swirled aloft, stark white against the blackness of the night, and
finally a shower of sparks spurted upward with such terrifying force that in a
Helkenn 9
single instant the blinds, the side panels, and the roof’s metal fittings were
ripped off in the blast and sent flying. Still more horrible was the color of the
flames that licked the latticed cabin vents before shooting skyward, as
though…the sun itself had crashed to earth, spewing its heavenly fire in all
directions. (69)
The image of the stark white against a pure blackness offers a sharp contrast that can serve as a
visual representation of the battle between good and evil that often manifests itself in Gothic
literature. In this case, it could be a clear exhibition of the Eastern Gothic, insofar as the white
is not necessarily fighting with the darkness, but rather coexisting with it, which lends itself to
the Eastern interpretation.
The image of the panels being ripped off the carriage and flung through the air as the
carriage is engulfed in flames is an image that brought shock and awe to the witnesses of the
event, including the narrator. Factor that in with the vicious language that is correlated with
the flames in this scene, such as licking flames and heavenly fire, and it is an interesting
juxtaposition with the Gothic structure and image of fear-evoking terror or horror. It is also
worthy to note the linguistic choice of ‘heavenly fire’ when speaking of an image that is
ultimately Yoshihide’s hell on earth. His desire for art consumed him and pushed him across
the moral boundary into the realm of terror and horror. This is the moment that Yoshihide
realizes exactly what it is that desire and passion has wrought and just how much he created his
own horrific hell.
Throughout the narrative, Akutagawa expresses a cross-cultural interpretation of the
Gothic genre through his use of decay, terror, and horror. As a whole, the Gothic literary genre
Helkenn 10
is noted for the ever-present threat of horror or terror. Akutagawa’s use of language and
imagery in the nature of the screen itself, as well as the base setting of the narrative, allows the
reader to delve into the minds of the characters and experience the horrors that are related
through a seemingly detached narrator. In the case of “Hell Screen,” the threat of horror is
present in the downward spiral of Yoshihide’s consciousness as he descends into a world where
he has been demonized and his art has consumed him. Once he allowed his art to consume
him, culminating in his final moments, he became a harbinger of his own personal hell.
Helkenn 11
Works Cited
Akutagawa, Ryūnosuke. "Hell Screen." Trans. Jay Rubin. Rashōmon and Seventeen Other Stories.
London & New York: Penguin, 2006. 42-73. Print.
Bloom, Clive. "Horror Fiction: In Search of a Definition." Ed. David Punter. A Companion to the
Gothic. Malden, Massachusetts: Blackwell, 2001. 165. Print.
Hughes, Henry J. "Familiarity of the Strange: Japan's Gothic Tradition." Criticism 42.1 (2000): 5989.JStor. Database. 19 Apr 2014.
Kaitz, Merrill. "Art and Society in Kim Tong-in's "Kwangyom Sonata" and Akutagawa
Ryonosuke's "Hell Screen"." Occasional Papers on Korea 2 (1974): 122-131. JStor.
Database. 19 Apr 2014.
Murfin, Ross, and Supryia M. Ray. The Bedford Glossary of Critical and Literary Terms. 3rd ed.
Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 2009. 206. Print.
Napier, Susan J. The Fantastic in Modern Japanese Literature: The Subversion of Modernity.
New York: Routledge, 1996. 123. Print.
Tsuruta, Kinya. "The Defeat of Rationality and the Triumph of Mother "Chaos": Akutagawa
Ryūnosuke's Journey." Japan Review. 11 (1999): 75-94. Web. 19 Apr 2014.