A regional governor's attempt to shield his community from military violence results in his demotion and exile. His family subsequently joins him, traveling by foot and woefully unprepared for the journey. They are then victimized by those who traffic in people, leading to their separation. The younger daughter and son end up under the control of the film’s central figure, where they endure harsh physical work; only the boy, “Taro,” seems to show any compassion regarding their plight. Is he able to offer assistance? Can they somehow maintain a sense of their former dignity amidst such disregard and hardship? Will the family ever reunite? The film is visually stunning. The camerawork is somber, bleak, and powerfully conveys empathy for the children as they fight to stay alive in this new existence. Moments of hope appear, but Kenji Mizoguchi carefully controls what we anticipate. There’s no easy resolution here; brighter prospects exist, yet it remains uncertain whether either child will ever attain them. The performances are restrained and full of personality—particularly that of the young “Anju” (Kyôko Kagawa), who strives to protect her initially fragile younger brother, "Zushio" (Yoshiaki Hanayagi). A blend of Japanese and classical music enhances the contrasting visuals of poverty, affluence, brutality, and generosity within this narrative of barbarism and retribution. The cinematography is best appreciated on a large screen—it amplifies the story’s power and visual impact; however, even watching it on television provides an engrossing two-hour experience.

Source on TMDB