Sometimes you come upon a film that leaves you almost lost for words - original in its ideas, imagery or execution, Shinji Somai’s 1987 Japanese arthouse film Luminous Woman is one such film. An extraordinary pseudo-psychedelic Fellini-esque ride through the world of Tokyo’s covert and subversive nightlife, we follow our protagonist, soon to-be wrestler, Sensaku as he leaves the tranquil security of his rustic life in Hokkaido to scour the urban highlife of Japan’s capital in search of his missing fiancée.

The premise of Luminous Woman is quite a simple one – it is the characters and the situations that they find themselves in that make this a captivating, if flawed, film.  Sensaku, played rather brilliantly by the youthful, real-life wrestler Keiji Mutô, travels to Tokyo to find his fiancée, Kuriko who has seemingly vanished while studying in the city. Hitching a lift, Sensaku’s first stop is the nightclub that sits at the centre of our narrative - a place where violence and beauty symbolically combine as patrons are treated to wrestling exhibitions curiously matched with operatic arias. It is here that Sensaku encounters two characters who are to become key to this pervasive love story – opera star Yoshino (Michiru Akiyoshi) who is plagued by the devastation of no longer being able to sing and Shiniuchi, the archetypal ruthless club owner played by Saburô Date. The set-up is fantastical as Sensaku finds himself agreeing to play the part of gladiator in exchange for information as to Kuriko’s whereabouts, but alas when he does eventually find her, things do not pan out quite as he had hoped. However, the story becomes truly absorbing as he patiently waits for her, taking up residence with benevolent but alcoholic colleague Akanuma all the while developing an irresistible bond with Yoshino.

This is not a film that relies on its narrative. From the opening scene where Sensaku, setting out on his mission, encounters an opera singer in full flow standing atop a rubbish dump, it’s made clear that Luminous Woman is a film heavy on imagery. Not necessarily subtle, but certainly effective. Somai’s trademark single tracking shots are used to great effect with extended takes of Sensaku striding through the streets, intent on his objective, while hues of pink and red amplify the film’s dreamlike quality - a burning bus swathed in pink sheen is stunning, for example. Having produced 1985’s ‘pink’ film Love Hotel, Somai is no stranger to the transgressive and underground, as he conjures a journey into the heart of the Tokyo underground that entertains with both its peculiarity and visual aesthetic while his broader, more resounding message of town versus country is strongly felt as he explores the destruction of beauty when held in an urban grip.

Released by Third Window Films this 2K version, accompanied by a making of and deleted scenes, looks woozy and surreal. With some excellent performances, especially that of the inexperienced Mutô, Luminous Woman has not received a huge amount of love compared to the critically acclaimed Typhoon Club, for example and yes while it may be excessive in parts and unsubtle in others, for the set-pieces and imagery alone it’s well worth a watch.