In 1880s Japan, the budding feminist Hirayama Eiko (Tanaka Kinuyo) follows her political agitant boyfriend to Tokyo. During a turbulent period of change for Japanese society, she hopes she can make a difference – but find not everybody is as idealistic or principled as she is.

Mizoguchi Kenji is widely heralded as one of Japan’s greatest filmmakers – the all-time best, if one is to believe France’s Éric Rohmer. Between 1923 and 1956 he directed a wide array of popular and acclaimed dramas, typically observing the plight of women in Japanese society. In his 1949 film Flame of my Love he tackles those issues head-on, rather than in his typically subtle fashion, with a story derived from the real life of 19th century activist Fukuda Hideko. While not precisely a biographical feature – names and situations are changed to make a more interesting story – there is nonetheless a realistic backing to this work, and a frankness that feels stronger than Mizoguchi’s more famous films. This is not one of most widely discussed of the director’s efforts, and in all honesty it is a challenge to precisely determine why that is.

It is no surprise to find Tanaka Kinuyo in the lead; a regular Mizoguchi actor, she collaborated with him on 15 different films. She benefits enormously in this case from such a strong, driven character. Eiko bristles against the patriarchy in her home, typified by a controlling traditionalist father. She follows her boyfriend Hayase (Ozawa Eitaro), who leaves home to campaign for the forward-thinking Liberal Party. Once there she drifts apart from Hayase, seduced by the promise of political revolution as well as the charismatic labour leader Omoi Kentaro (Sugai Ichiro, another regular Mizoguchi player).

Her involvement in a peasant’s revolt sees her sent to prison by the government, and there she witnesses women being treated as poorly as those in the textile mills where so many women work. It is clear that Omoi and his party are not a good fit for her: both are not concerned with women’s welfare while campaigning for better representation for men of all classes. One can describe Mizoguchi as a feminist, and certainly his oeuvre is dominated by stories of women struggling to find happiness and security in difficult situations. At the same time he is an awfully miserable one – the struggles he captures on-screen are seemingly insurmountable and never-ending. Is he drawing attention to the struggle, or is he claiming that the struggle can never truly be won? Some times it feels difficult to tell.

Elsewhere the film is typical of Mizoguchi’s general style, including a Shindo Kaneto screenplay, and the thoughtful long takes that typify the director’s visual approach. Its period setting within the early Meiji era stands out somewhat; elsewhere he tended to focus on contemporary situations.

Flame of my Love mixes social issues with romantic melodrama and recent history effectively, and with a heartfelt central performance. It seems poised for rediscovery. It deserves a wider audience.