Zero Woman: Red Handcuffs

ゼロ課の女：赤い手錠 Zero Woman: Red Handcuffs. Yukio Noda, 1974

It's time for another unbelievably trashy exploitation film, so leave your notions of good taste behind and strap yourselves in as I introduce you to yet another queen of 1970s Japanese genre cinema, Miki Sugimoto. Quite possibly the baddest, babein’est chick the screen has ever seen. While she was often paired with other bankable genre stars, particularly Reiko Ike, who we last saw in Sex and Fury, Zero Woman: Red Handcuffs is a vehicle all of Sugimoto’s own. And what a monstrous vehicle it is.

Sugimoto plays Rei, a secret agent cop whose character is not only left unexplained, I even had to search the web for her character’s name, as I really can’t recall it being mentioned in the film at any point. After breaking protocol in order to exact her own gruesomely cathartic revenge on a disgusting European diplomat (Where exactly is Almania anyway?) who was responsible for the death of a girl I’m assuming was a friend of Rei’s. Her license is revoked and she is thrown in prison. At this point I felt a bit disappointed, as I was hoping for something more than just another “women in prison” film. Well, I got more. Almost too much more. It was at this point that the film’s real story develops, and I use the term “Story” in the loosest possible sense, as it is the simplest, pulpiest thing I’ve come across in a while: The prime minister’s daughter has been kidnapped. Retrieve her and kill those responsible using any methods necessary and you’ll get your old life back. So there you have it, the barest bones of a story, the likes of which still get used today (Luc Besson’s La Femme Nikita comes to mind) which, in the case of this film, serve as the perfect foundation to build a gratuitously wild ride upon.

Rei's tools of the trade... Is that a water pistol?

 The vast majority of this gratuitousness is not conveyed through the central female role however, this duty is entrusted to a gang of disgusting male criminals, who never pass up a chance for a bit of senseless violence or gang rape. Even as a fan of these kinds of films, I did find there was a bit much too much pointless violence, most of it brought about by the almost completely one dimensional male characters, when really all I was hanging out for was for Rei to get down to business with her titular red handcuffs as she did so well in the film’s whirlwind opening four minutes. Instead, Rei quietly bides her time, infiltrating the gang to take them down from the inside occasionally taking part in the kind of spectacular set piece deaths we look forward to. Falling backwards into a bath seems to be a popular way to go in this film. The artistic flourishes of the 70s are also present, with the surrounding environment invading and adding to the violence through naturalistic sound an image, whether of a series of planes taking off, or in a more surreal way with colours and lights filling empty background spaces to accentuate Sugimoto’s largely silent performance, in a way similar to visual effects used in Female Prisoner #701. Sugimoto does however deliver some great Dirty Harry-esque one liners though, “I’m not from any section. I’m from section Zero”. Also called into question, although quite offhandedly and without any real analysis, is a question of morality surrounding cops who act like criminals. It’s a throwaway line, but does put the film into some kind of (slightly) deeper territory, as pretty much every character is shown as having a complete lack of morals. Backstabbings and bungled plans abound, and the cops, all males of course, are shown as being particularly incompetent.

Around halfway through the movie I found myself thinking, “This movie could be so much more.” It was probably because I just wished Sugimoto would quit lurking in the background behind these vile crooks. But then my prayers were answered when the plot takes a turn. After the prime minister realises his reputation will never recover from the scandal, he orders the cops to kill his own daughter and Rei. Thus, with all bets and gloves well and truly off, the last thirty minutes of the film are pushed completely over the edge into non-stop mayhem. A huge shootout ensues between the criminals and the cops, with Rei caught in between. But it is the location that is the most baffling element. The whole thing seems to have been filmed in some kind of abandoned American military camp turned Wild West ghost town --IN A RAGING HURRICANE. Paper is blowing around everywhere, cars are destroyed, villains burnt and scarred and Rei throws her red handcuffs around like Spider-Man, and tells the chief of police to enjoy the promotion he will no doubt receive upon arrival in hell. Wow.

If that wasn’t enough, I think I may have also picked up on a bit of Anti-American sentiment. All throughout the film there are visual cues to Americana, particularly the military. In one particular scene some of the criminals even piss on an army sign. And in a more sinister turn, the U.S Navy is symbolically implicated as a perpetrator in the rape scene! I’m really not familiar with director Yukio Noda’s work at all, but could this film be one huge America bashing exercise? Is the senseless violence, particularly the head villain killing his own brother in a fit of rage some kind of damning Vietnam allegory? On the other hand, there seems to be clear American filmic influences at work here. Documentary style surveillance shots of cops staking out the gang coupled with costuming directly references film noir and American Police procedurals, while a terrifying and bizarre home invasion could be influenced by American horror films such as Wes Craven’s Last House on the Left. Even Scorsese would be proud of the hand in a vice torture scene and shallow grave in a wheat field murder. The more I think about it, the more this film seems so well informed and transcends its label of throwaway trash exploitation. There actually seems to be a lot more going on here… 

 

Manhattan, Pepsi and the U.S. Navy as a brutal rapist of an innocent and defenseless Japan??

This film is worth watching purely for the magnetic Miki Sugimoto, who can easily be placed among other 70s Japanese Queens like Meiko Kaji, Reiko Ike and even internationals such as Christina Lindberg and Pam Grier. On the one hand, this film is standard exploitation fare, but also, it’s not. The violence has an explicitly brutish nihilism that until now, I had not seen in Japanese 70s cinema. The overabundance of disgusting male characters is this films weakest point, but they all die in spectacular ways by the end of it anyway. This was the first in a series of Zero Woman films, and I’m not sure whether Sugimoto starred in any of the others. The film is a mixed bag, and could definitely have given its star a bit more to do, but keeping in mind it is the first in a series, it certainly gets it off to a explosive start.

Sex and Fury

不良姐御伝 猪の鹿お蝶 Norifumi Suzuki, 1973

Last time I went to Japan I had the good fortune to meet a very interesting man who was a director of the Kanazawa film festival. After talking at length about our favourite films, we ended up on the topic of 1970s grindhouse/exploitation films, which it quickly became apparent he was a die hard fan/expert. His immediate response to my request for recommendations of that era was Norifumi Suzuki’s Sex and Fury. At that time I had already seen his 1974 School of the Holy Beast, which was undoubtedly the most outrageous movie I had seen to date, and after watching the equally subversive and delirious Sex and Fury, I realised Suzuki’s importance as an auteur of Japanese cinema of the 70s, not just for his ludicrous stories or cult influence (Tarantino is a fan) but also for his flat out gorgeous visual style.

Set during the Meiji era, Japan’s period of rapid economic growth and Westernisation due to the acceptance of European influence, Sex and Fury follows the exploits (quite literally) of a female gambler/pickpocket Ocho, played by Japanese erotic film/sexploitation superstar Reiko Ike. A wanderer whose father was killed when she was a child, she is embroiled into a plot of international political intrigue when she witnesses an assassination at a gambling house. It seems that those darn Americans are planning to get on Japan’s good side in order to set the scene for a profitable drug war. If that wasn’t enough, they have Christina Lindberg on their side, a Scandinavian porn actress playing a world class gambler/dancer who has gone undercover (quite literally) as a spy to curry favour with important Japanese politicians. However, her heart is not entirely in the right place, as she has a long lost Japanese lover, Shunosuke, fighting against the corrupt individuals she has shacked up with (quite literally). Still she hopes to reunite with him, all the while speaking hilariously broken Japanese AND English. But I’m forgetting about our heroine Ocho. After realising the people who killed her father are also in cahoots with this whole political operation, Ocho sets out for revenge, her only information on who she is after being their tattoos: Boar, Deer and Butterly.

Sex? Check. Fury? Check.

The film certainly lives up to its name, with Ike and Lindberg using everything their mammas gave ‘em and then some in order to get exactly what they want. Seriously though, this film has a ridiculous number of gratuitous sex scenes, including a cross-cultural lesbian interlude and the rape of a young virgin. On the other hand, we have generous doses of bloody violence. The award for best scene in the entire film goes to the much written about bath scene, in which a completely starkers Reiko Ike dispatches a gang of assassins in the snow with a sword, after being ambushed in the bath. The scene is in slow motion, with a soundtrack of a distinct Wild West/Flamenco guitar flavour; in other words, a pulpy, artistic triumph. Bright red blood is sprayed by the bucketful, and an obligatory woman chained and tortured scene is included. I think I’ve seen one in every Norifumi Suzuki movie so far.

The film was made in 1973, and as such, is a sensory feast. Even the opening credits, making great use of colourful Japanese Hanafuda cards (something of a plot device throughout the film) and kaleidoscope effect are dizzyingly enjoyable. Expect in no particular order: plenty of extreme back and forth close ups of people staring intently at each other, pop art visuals, garish coloured lighting, funky music, a hilariously overblown death scene set to supermarket muzak and seemingly shot in a wind tunnel, and YES even a gang of Nuns armed with knives. Whatever stars that preside over the production of completely bonkers cult films were well and truly aligned for this wild ride.

I like to watch films in order to see things I wouldn’t normally. To be challenged. This is why I particularly enjoy horror and exploitation films. Every one of Suzuki’s movies that I have seen succeeds in delivering this kind of challenge, in that I often find myself laughing in disbelief, mouth hanging open and just generally not believing what I’m seeing. This is the thrill of cinema that so many people can’t bear! Sure, there might be a little too much sex and not quite enough fury and the acting is pretty woeful throughout, but this movie is fun, fun, fun. Imbued with the energy and spirit of the 70s, Sex and Fury is, like all of Suzuki’s best work, wonderfully subversive, attacking notions of good taste and high art by creating unashamed TRASH. It is this trash however, that continues to grow in reputation, influence and popularity, and armed with Suzuki’s powerful, almost hallucinatory visual style, Sex and Fury takes the term “cult film” to a whole new freaky level.

Note: This film is NOT a porno. It is a legitimate subgenre of Japanese cinema known as the Pink Film (Erotic film), however this one contains much more violence, “Pinky Violence” as it is now known. Yes there is nudity and plenty of sex, but it is strictly softcore, with no actors’ junk on display at any time, as dictated by Japanese censorship laws of the time (pubic hair wasn’t even allowed). Just thought I’d make it clear that I’m not COMPLETELY perverted.

Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion

女囚701号:さそり Shunya Ito, (1972)

Meiko Kaji is one of the most famous actresses of Japanese exploitation films of the 1970s. She is well known for her revenge seeking heroines, and her death stare ability is unrivaled throughout cinema history the world over. So when I learned that she starred in a series of 70s exploitation films that fall into the “Women in Prison” (!) sub-genre, I eagerly sought them out. I was not disappointed. Despite being his filmic debut, director Shunya Ito’s Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion, is an exploitation classic that, like so many other genre films of the era, delivers everything the title implies, and more.

Nami Matsushima (Kaji) agrees to help her lover, narcotics squad officer Sugimi, infiltrate the nightclub headquarters of a drug ring. Deeply in love with him, she complies with his plan and doesn’t for a second consider that she is being set up. She is subsequently raped by the drug dealers and abandoned by Sugimi. Enraged, she tries to kill him outside the police station where he works. This flimsy back story, serves only to place Nami in prison and establish her as the revenge driven rape victim, but is shot in a fascinatingly artificial style. Nami’s setting up is quite literally staged on a minimalistic theatre set, with garishly expressive coloured lighting and even a revolving stage. This kind of artificial excess lends the flashback a surreal nightmarish quality, but it is conveyed in a strangely beautiful way. Nami’s rape is filmed from below her through a glass window, one of many delirious camera techniques employed throughout the film. Soon after, red and green lighting beams onto her face, her hair re-arranging in a jarring stop motion sequence, signifying her change from victim to hunter. This transformation is mirrored in a later scene with a fellow prisoner who attempts to murder Nami in the film’s inevitable nudity-filled shower scene. The striking change in appearance; hair and eyes particularly, seems to reference traditional Japanese folklore regarding demons and the kind of dramatic changes of character and disposition traditional Japanese stage drama is known for.

These stylistic inclusions are just a few examples of what is ultimately a sensationally excessive film, and I’m not just referring to the copious amounts of gratuitous nudity. Scenes are filmed upside down, camera shots spiral out of control, blood flows like fire hydrants and trippy synthesiser sound effects augment the films visuals like a 70s film only can. Of course, this excess is conveyed through the story itself, which features many outrageous and explicit scenes, most of which take place in the prison warehouse when a number of the male wardens as hostages by the women. In a frantic orgy of role reversal, the female prisoners assert their power and dominance over their sadistic male imprisoners by tearing their clothes off and raping them. What were once men are reduced to caged sex objects for the enjoyment of these women, imprisoned for so long. In another scene, chained and hanging from the ceiling, Nami is sexually tortured with a burning hot light bulb. These sadistic themes permeate the film even in its quietest moments, and no one is quieter than Nami herself. Meiko Kaji has become famous for her almost completely silent protagonists, conveying her character almost entirely through body language alone. Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion keeps with this tradition, with Kaji uttering only a handful of lines throughout the film, the majority of which narrate her flashback scene. Her most memorable line in the film; “To be deceived… is a woman’s crime.” is the kind of delightfully nonsensical pseudo-philosophical stuff we’d expect from a mindless action film.

Despite her near muteness, Meiko Kaji and her character’s quest for revenge is the driving force of this film. Keeping with the conventions of the rape/revenge film, Nami of course gets her man. Upon finally escaping from prison, dressed in black, she glides through a string of murders, like a raven of death. Today, this level of overt theatricality is dated yet fascinating at the same time, with many beautiful and creatively composed shots and staging of characters. The story is as pulpy as they come, but it is great fun, with remarkable visuals and the mesmerising avenger Meiko Kaji in one of her most iconic roles.