JFF16 - Rurouni Kenshin

るろうに剣心 Keishi Otomo, 2012

Rurouni Kenshin is without a doubt, THE blockbuster of JFF16. The first screening in Sydney quickly sold out, with a second announced to meet demand. And wouldn’t you know it, the exact same thing happened in Melbourne. There is some serious buzz around this movie, most likely a combination of the fact that it was a huge smash hit in Japan and is also an adaptation of the Manga and Anime series. As usual, I had never read, seen or in this case even heard of the source material. So I went along to watch it just to see what all the fuss was about… And I’ve gotta say I have no problem whatsoever in dumping this one in the “Big, Boring Blockbuster” category, along with other 2012 entries The Dark Knight Rises and The Hunger Games (that’s right, come get me).

Himura Kenshin (Takeru Sato) is an assassin of legendary skill who leaves behind his violent ways upon the advent of Japan’s Meiji Era. Wandering the land as an itinerant samurai, Kenshin offers protection to Kaoru Kamiya (Emi Takei, who we last saw in Takashi Miike’s For Love’s Sake), a young girl whose Swordfighting Dojo is being threatened by a bunch of local bullies. Other characters then start turning up, including Megumi Takani (Yu Aoi) who has managed to escape evil villain Kanryu Takeda’s clutches and opium manufacturing operations. The underdeveloped and uninteresting characters come thick and fast; with Kenshin the quiet, softly spoken hero at the centre. I had to look up their names again, because they really weren’t interesting enough to remember. The main story however, is centred on Kenshin, who is haunted by the violence of his past, in the form of a big violent bad guy who is out to kill him for some reason.

Maybe if I had read the Manga or seen the Anime, I would understand the story better, or appreciate some of the inclusions of characters that otherwise felt completely unnecessary. But if this adaptation can’t stand on its own merit, then as far as I’m concerned, it’s a failure. Two or three characters in the supporting cast offered a few desperately needed laughs, and even received an uproarious applause from the sold out crowd, but I found the acting to be completely bland across the board. Takeru Sato was clearly cast for his good looks, as close ups of his handsome yet emotionless face and impossibly perfect skin are frequent. I found him completely unbelievable as a samurai, and he seemed to wander through the film dazed and confused, like he’d walked onto the wrong set. Teruyuki Kagawa as the cigar-smoking criminal mastermind is agonizingly bad, letting his lower jaw carry him through his scenes, and pretty much everyone else isn’t given enough screen time to actually do anything, thus resulting in a cast of pretty faces and not much else, in a film that takes itself way too seriously.

The fight scenes also failed to deliver for me. Some of the jumping and spinning around in was fun, particularly in the scene with Kenshin and the swaggering Street Fighter, but frenzied camerawork ensured that I tuned out almost completely until the fight ended. Although I quite enjoyed some of the dark, more modern music that underscores the action scenes, the swordplay would have been much more effective had the camera simply stayed in one place. The storming of the villainous estate in the film’s final act was the most successful part of the film, due to being one of pure spectacle. Like a classic kung-fu film or video-game, Kenshin and co’s progression through each room and villain, until they finally reach the big boss at the end, was a reasonably exciting ending to a film that is otherwise constantly flat-lining.

I don’t have much else to say. What you’ve got here is just a classic case of shiny but lifeless blockbuster. Of course the huge budget ensures that the locations, sets, costumes etc. are all perfect, but you can’t hide a shit movie behind that. I really was quite bored by this film. It didn’t make me want to read the Manga or watch the Anime, and there are plenty of “Lone Samurai” films out there with much more interesting characters, more heart and better action. Maybe if the film had spent less time trying to squeeze in all the characters I’m assuming have big fan bases thanks to the Manga, they could have created a film more accessible to causal viewers. But of course, this film’s success will no doubt ensure we see a plethora of equally dull sequels. Unless you’re a fan of the original stories, I wouldn’t bother with this one.

Berserk: Egg of the King

ベルセルク覇王の卵 Toshiyuki Kubooka, 2012

ReelAnime 4/4

I was saving Berserk for last. Right off the bat, I had a gut feeling it would be the one I would enjoy the least. It just looked like a mindless medieval battle movie adapted from a mindless medieval battle manga/anime. It seems to me like Berserk has never really been as popular as it is in Japan, I had never really heard of it, except through the music of Susumu Hirasawa, who provided soundtracks for the anime series (his sounds are amazing and body of work staggering, check him out), and I rarely get into anime series anyway because they usually tend to drag on a bit for me. At least this Berserk movie would be bearable because they will condense it into film length and drop all the filler right?

The film is set an unspecified kingdom/land, but a blind man could see the medieval Europe inspiration. From the get go then, we have knights in shining armour on horseback, battling with swords - all the while yelling and carrying on in Japanese like it’s nobody's business. But this is no off putting anachronism; in fact, it’s kind of fascinatingly that this works. The question of believability never really enters into the equation and we are swept up into this bizarre east-meets-west alternate history. The hero of our tale is a swaggering warrior named Guts. I thought for a while that this was a joke, but no, his name is actually GUTS. He is an arrogant brawn over brains style fighter with a sword quite literally as long as he is tall (paging Dr. Freud…?). Guts appears to be working for some kind of clan/guild, but doesn’t really seem to have any strong allegiances. After his gratuitous display of power is spotted by some skilled warriors during a siege upon an enemy castle, Guts is ambushed, bested in battle and persuaded to join their crew. The leader of this group is called Griffin, a mysterious “dude looks like a lady” warrior with an equally mysterious egg necklace. It is from this McGuffin that our film takes its name and not much else.

I didn’t really understand just what all these warriors are actually doing. They are battling each other, but the reasons why are unclear. I thought maybe Griffin and his gang were a bunch of bandits, fighting the powers that be, but this theory was quickly dashed with a scene in which Griffin meets with the king and cracks onto his incredibly clichéd “I detest violence” princess daughter. From what I gather though, Griffin ropes Guts into his team so as to remove him as an obstacle from his quest to seize the throne. Over time, Guts is played by his friend, as he begins to learn of Griffin’s true nature. The film only runs for about an hour and twenty minutes, so just when the plot started not only thickening but taking some twists and turns, and I really found myself getting interested in the story, it was over! By that stage I was quite surprised at myself to think that I would have happily sat through another hour and a half of this blood and swords bonanza. Gutted. 

I think this fast and furious duration is what detracted from the film a little. It almost felt like it wasn’t intended for the cinema. The aforementioned Susumu Hirasawa only gets a few minutes of opening credits theme song, and the cheesy “tune in next time” style trailer add to make this film more of a glorified TV episode. Of course, the battle scenes won’t have the same effect on the small screen, but 80 minutes? At least give me a double bill! Some of the animation also didn’t work for me. The film makes extensive use of CGI animation, and it really sticks out like a sore thumb. Many of the figures clunk around the screen like bobble-headed polygons from a 90s computer game cut-scene. It also feels like the CGI director and the drawn-animation director went for a “you do one scene, I’ll do the next” approach. The difference between the two is striking, giving the film a completely uneven visual feel.  

I’ll be honest; the film contains a lot of macho-bullshit. Women are relegated to supporting roles (classic dark ages, I guess), there is plenty of buckets-of-blood gore and painfully contrived attempts at human emotion. All this is layered with a thick coating of swaggering badassery, thanks mainly to Guts. I wanted more of the lone female warrior whose name escapes me, (and I’m not referring to her jarringly awkward and wholly unnecessary nude scene) she was definitely the most interesting character, maybe we‘ll be seeing her later. The film takes itself quite seriously, like it’s trying to be an animated Game of Thrones or something. But then, maybe it is more self aware than I’m giving it credit for. I mean, Japanese voice actors pronouncing names like Charlotte and Julius is pretty hilarious. I would have liked to have seen a bit more mystical junk though. Dragons, spells, that sort of thing. There was only really one battle with an evil monster, and it was a great scene. I hope that director Toshiyuki Kubooka has more in store for the sequels.

As I said, by the end of Berserk, I really was quite involved in the story. I was not expecting this at all, thinking it would be just a silly exercise in violence aimed at teenage boys. Of course, that’s exactly what it is… but the cliff-hanger that ended this movie is killing me, and I genuinely want to know what happens next! Sure, it’s mindless entertainment, and the characters and their animation have their weak spots, but it’s surprisingly well written. If the giant Warner Brothers logo that preceded the film is anything to go by, we can probably expect to see the rest of these movies in the west. And of course, as Madman was responsible for bringing us ReelAnime, they will no doubt do their damndest to bring them to Australia.

And so ends a bloody ripper ReelAnime, 4 great little movies direct from Japan. Melbournites make sure you catch WolfChildren; its stay has been extended at Cinema Nova, (where I just may see it for a third time, it’s that good) and where From up on Poppy Hill will be rejoining it later in the year.

MIFFburger #8 (Final): HIMIZU

 ヒミズ Sion Sono, 2011

And so my MIFF comes to a close for 2012 with the final film on my list, Himizu. As it is a Sion Sono film, a director who has been getting a bit of attention in previous posts, I really was looking forward to this one, especially since it has been a bit of a wait. The film has been available on DVD overseas for quite a while now, and info on it has been popping up in my facebook feed from UK's Third Window Films for what feels like ages. What is also interesting is that we have another Manga adaption on our hands. And even though I have never read, nor ever even heard of the original series (not a big manga fan here) the original work seems to have been reworked quite a bit, becoming very topical in its contemporary setting and themes.

The disastrous March 11 earthquake and tsunami prompted Sono to rewrite his script and change filming location to the destroyed Tohoku region, the result of which is a bleak atmosphere, in a film which is often very overwhelming. The opening scene is beautifully powerful; a female voice recites French poet François Villon's Ballade, while Mozart's familiar Requiem accompanies restrained shots surveying the devastated landscape of Ibaraki Prefecture. What struck me first of all was Sono's use of such a well known piece of classical music. Like many other famous pieces (Debussy's Clair De Lune or Grieg's Mountain King... ugh, every film trailer ever) Requiem's place in the global popular consciousness has resulted in it acquiring so much baggage, that I would have thought of it as a bit of a no go zone. How could you possibly use such a "Greatest Hits" piece that has been included in some form or another in everything from Amadeus to The Big Lebowski?? But somehow, Sono pulls it off. His tongue may be in cheek, but it is definitely less so than when Ravel's Bolero turned up in Love Exposure. Samuel Barber's Adagio For Strings is also included later on in the film, a piece that is arguably even more loaded given its cinematic history, yet Sono creates beautiful scenes that function as cinema and documentary at the same time, using repeated musical motifs that, particularly in this first scene, approach the kind of effects Spike Lee and composer Terence Blanchard achieved with When The Levees Broke, the amazing documentary about Hurricane Katrina.

But anyway, onto the story.

After his abusive and neglecting parents abandon him, fourteen year old Sumida (Shota Sumetani) finds himself having to fend for himself in this harsh and still very real environment. Filled with emotional turmoil in an environment that seems to only repress him, he assumes the role of manager of his family's lakeside boat rental shack and ends up dropping out of school. Over time, the mentally poisonous world around him has strong affects, and Sumida employs more drastic and violent methods in order to cope. Perhaps the most interesting role Sumida plays is that of caretaker. The area around Sumida's shack serves as a camping ground for some of the local inhabitants who lost everything, literally pitching tents in the backyard and looking up to him with great admiration and thanks. This also ensures that for the most part of the film, there is a supporting cast of weird and colourful characters, acting not unlike a chorus in a stage musical. The sense of community these people embody works on more than just a cinematic level too. A very large number of regular Sono collaborators make appearances, whether large or small, creating a sort of internal star system. Seeing Mitsuru Fukikoshi and Megumi Kagurazaka living together again after Cold Fish and also Denden in a variation on his terrifying gangster style is like a great big in-joke from Sono to his audience. A same-but-different or "What If?" kind of world, which I think is straight up genius.

Despite this large cast, we are always focused on the leading teenage couple. I have mentioned Sumida above, but the film really belongs to Fumi Nikaido, who plays Keiko, a young girl from Sumida's class, who has a manic and unashamed crush on him. A self confessed stalker, Keiko follows Sumida around, hanging off his every word so she can write it on her bedroom wall later. Nikaido’s smile just glows off the screen, a perfect counter to Sumida's simmering angst. All she wants to do is look after him, even if it means having to endure his mood swings and playground style beatings. These teenagers represent the kind of confusion and angst all fourteen year-olds go through, but of course, they convey it in the often-bordering-on, at-times-full-on caricature style melodrama to be expected of Sono. They are at the mercy of almost all the adults around them, parents can't be relied on and teachers don't understand. When the Yakuza turn up, things get even more complicated. Add to this the wasteland that is Tohoku, the most important element in the film in that it grounds it in reality, Sumida and Keiko are reflected perfectly in the Villon poem they recite:

I know the rosy-cheeked and the pale
I know death who devours all
I know everything but myself

As I said, the film is based on a manga. Knowing nothing about the original story, I'm wondering where the manga ends and where Sono begins. Is the change of setting the only difference? In any case, we just have to accept the film as a work in its own right, and this tale of disconnected youth battling with reality and their sicknesses fits the tsunami aftermath in an eerily perfect way. As I am discovering is typical of Sion Sono's films, Himizu is also very long and a bit repetitive. But its length is partly justified with some great subplots which allow for changes in scenery and exploration of other characters, creating a film that has moments of colourful escapism in contrast to its grim reality. A run in with a Neo-Nazi is bizarre, scary and exhilirating all at once.

Sono doesn’t shy away from the politics of the disaster either, including footage of TV interviews and directly referencing Japan’s post tsunami rebuilding campaign slogan “Ganbare Nihon!” throughout the whole film. I found it hard to decipher just what this was saying about Sono’s feelings though… Is he angry and bitter? Depressed? Hopeful? I think the answer may be all of the above, at times simultaneously. Hope seems to win out in the end however, with the film’s emotional climax arriving in its final scene, an astonishingly powerful cinematic moment that weighed down on me long after I left the cinema.

Tohoku doesn’t make the evening news anymore; too much time has passed for it to warrant international concern. And it is partly for that reason that I think this film is something that should be seen by many. It has definitely stayed with me, and I believe that its reputation and acclaim will grow in time, until one day it be considered quite an important work.

And so ended MIFF 2012!

MIFFburger #7: For Love's Sake

愛と誠 Takashi Miike, 2012

For Love’s Sake was the third and final Takashi Miike film that made the cut for MIFF 2012, and I can say that it was definitely the most outrageous. Something interesting about all three of his films selected for the festival this year is that they are all adaptations in some way. Ace Attorney was a video game adaptation, Hara Kiri was a remake, and For Love’s Sake is adapted from the 1970s manga series by Ikki Kajiwara, which has already seen a number of live action adaptations. Neither the manga nor the films have been released in the west, and had Miike not been attached to this most recent adaptation, I dare say we never would have seen this one either. And so, I went into this film not knowing anything other than what the program synopsis said, which was basically along the lines of violent, melodramatic musical. Sounds like fun to me.

Makoto (Satoshi Tsumabuki) is a delinquent youth, a lone wolf constantly getting into rumbles with street gangs for no apparent reason, until a young girl named Ai (Emi Takei) takes it upon herself to reform him, also for no apparent reason (except maybe a crush). They are two kids from opposite sides of the tracks; a street kid and a private school bourgeois, and so begins their bizarre, song, dance and violence filled relationship.

This is not your conventional musical. The closest cinematic point of reference would probably be Bollywood, but even then, the musical side is much more developed and integral to the genre. The songs in For Love's Sake are employed mainly for providing theme songs for individual characters, and pretty much everyone does receive one, with the songs also functioning as welcome breaks from the film’s almost constant barrage of violence. More often than not however, the musical numbers in Love’s Sake feel a bit tacked on. Their contrived and self aware style is used mostly (and effectively) for laughs, rather than character/story development, and any chances for extravagant West Side Story style gang confrontation set pieces aren’t seized, with dance numbers consisting mostly of mostly awkward and stilted choreography. Even though we are a long way from Broadway, Miike does seem to have his own style of command over the musical genre. He leaves gaps between songs just long enough for you to forget that you’re watching a musical and then drops one on your head, and also pokes fun at musical conventions by altering the surroundings of the singing characters to destroy their presumed utopian musical environment when they, and we, are least expecting it.

Just like in Ace Attorney, Miike has done a great job of transposing cartoon characters into a live action world. The characters in For Love’s Sake are delightfully one dimensional, consumed by their individual goals and bizarre hang ups that Miike never feels obligated to explain. Characters flip out, change their ways, lose hope and start fights all at the drop of an emotional hat, again taking the musical from its origins into twisted new locations. The story is set in the 70s, but I do wish a bit more was done with the costumes (granted, most of them are school uniforms) and I still think that the colour correction, giving everything slightly a more golden look is a bit of a cheat’s way out. But the sets are unbelievable, particularly the Hanazono Trade School, a post apocalyptic wasteland overrun by gangs that looks like something out of Akira. The film’s focus on youth gangs is also very 70s. The inclusion of girl gangs and female bosses is a staple of Japanese cinema, particularly the Sukeban and Terrifying Girls High School series of exploitation films of the 70s. Outrageous antics and violence are the order of the day, with a wide range of funny gang members, each with their own gimmick or trademark, yet all who have no qualms with beating the absolute shit out of anyone, or even each other.

The film’s excessive violence is completely cartoonish in nature. Makoto takes a beating no man could withstand, yet the film makes it clear that we are in a cartoon world, removing the violence of any real consequence or weight, enabling it to work on a purely comedic and un-PC level. There’s nothing quite as refreshing as a film with a bit of girl bashing is there? 70s exploitation fun (acid face burning, girls bound and hung from the ceiling) is referenced, but never fully delivered, and the fight scenes really do get a bit boring, as does the meandering of the largely directionless characters, who are of course reunited at the end in classical musical denouement. The film is a wild pastiche of genres and conventions, and while it may not be wholly satisfying, Miike has definitely created a new and interesting postmodern riff on the classic musical.

The best thing is that, like so much of Miike’s work, the film doesn’t take itself too seriously. The characters are silly, the story is silly and the songs are silly. In fact, there may be too much silliness for the average viewer. But this movie is still good (silly) fun.

Silly.

MIFFburger #3: HARA KIRI - Death of a Samurai

一命Takashi Miike, 2011

Two Miike's down, one to go.

Hara Kiri: Death of a Samurai is a remake of Masaki Kobayashi's 1963 film, which I was unable to get my hands for viewing before seeing this new version, which I was pretty bummed about, as it is often talked about with the same awe and respect masterpieces from Kurosawa or Mizoguchi receive. But anyway, that will be high on the post MIFF to-do list.

At MIFF 2011 Miike well and truly proved that he could create a modern day Samurai film with an immense respect for the history of the genre as well as being wildly entertaining for contemporary audiences with 13 Assasins. It was one of my highlights of the entire festival and another feather in the cap of one of the most productive directors working today. Hara Kiri can definitely be seen as a sort of companion piece to 13 Assassins, both are remakes, both share a beautiful visual style, and both are period dramas. Yet their stories are quite different. Before I get into that, a very quick history lesson may be in order. The film is set in 1600s Japan, The Edo Period, a time when the houses of many feudal lords were being abolished by Tokugawa Ieyasu who had come into almost absolute power within Japan. Basically, if you were a Samurai and your master was killed, or his house fell, you became a Ronin; a masterless wanderer who would either commit Hara Kiri to save face/avoid shame or you wandered around looking for other work.

Hara Kiri is the story of Hanshiro Tsugumo, a disheveled ronin who has arrived at estate of the House if Ii. He has but one request: allow me to commit hara kiri within your courtyard in order to regain some measure of honour. But the master of the house, Kageyu Saito, is not convinced. The advent of the Edo Period has brought with it countless fallen Samurai, with many requesting the same thing at various estates across the land, either with genuine intent to commit suicide, or in an attempt to appeal to Lords' good nature, use their supposed death wish to veil their hope for employment, or at least some money to tide them over. Kageyu then goes on to warn Hanshiro by way of the tale of a young man named Motome, who arrived not long ago with the same request, only to meet his grisly end due to their clan's refusal to tolerate suicide bluffs. With their strict adherence to codes of Samurai honour, Kageyu sees to it that anyone who requests suicide, bluffing or not, will be accommodated.

The cautionary tale of Motome forms the first of the film’s two long flashback sequences, which alternate between this backstory and the present. Through these flashbacks, the mysterious Hanshiro character is developed and explored, with his true reasons for calling upon Kageyu slowly revealed. And I do mean slowly. I was quite surprised at how slow this slow burn is. Miike is in full-on classical mode here. The camera work is amazingly beautiful, the composition and framing feels like a stage production, and actors sit talking while glaring into each other's eyes with burning intensity. Visually, the film is flawless. Traditional Japanese estates and courtyards are recreated with a deep, rich colour palette, as are the countryside villages and costumes, which Miike uses to draw distinct differences between the different levels of the feudal hierarchy. On top of all this, the film is in 3D. Now, I usually make a point to not see 3D films, one, because I don't want to spend the extra few dollars and two, because it's pretty much always a headache inducing gimmick. Unfortunately, Hara Kiri falls into that ever growing category of "unnecessarily 3D movie that would be just as enjoyable in 2D". It does add an interesting, although slightly disorienting, layer of depth to the interiors of the film's beautiful sets, but ultimately it just reminded me of the kind of 3D virtual tours that you can find in Japanese castles or temples that recreate the former glory and beauty of the since destroyed/deteriorated site for tourists.

The film's restraint is not solely technical though. Fans of the exhilarating swordplay in 13 Assassins may be disappointed at Hara Kiri's contemplative nature. Miike opts to critique and question the notion of honour in a changing political landscape rather than no holds barred violence and spectacle, which really, is quite an unexpected move for him. Instead, we have a bleak, drawn out, emotional story of family and revenge that approaches Shakespeare or Greek Tragedy territory. If I had one problem, it was that this family story, told pretty much entirely through flashbacks, didn't fully engage me. I realise that it was absolutely essential to the presently unfolding events of the film, but it felt a bit out of balance for me. I also felt quite sorry for Hikari Mitsushima, who plays the film's token female Miho, who was not given much to do at all. She was quite underused, and must have felt a bit ripped off, especially since she has the impressive Love Exposure on her resume. Kabuki stage performer Ebizo Ichikawa carries the entire film as the unbelievably cool Hanshiro. His performance is a mesmerising quiet storm, sitting on the floor for the majority of the film, until duty calls and he dons his best pair of crazy eyez, gets his yojimbo swagger on and takes care of business in the film's sole fight scene.

The film's focus on dialogue and story serves to imbue the rare instances of bloodshed with a palpable intensity, the aforementioned fight scene served as something of an exhale of a breath I had been holding for the entire film without realising. The scenes of ritual suicide are particularly powerful. Miike's handling and orchestration of the disembowelling from which the film takes its name are masterful. The audience's horror is heightened and teased out through what is seen, unseen and what is heard. While the violence does allow Miike's penchant for blood to shine through, it does not bear his trademark excess. It is shockingly realistic and had many squirming, gasping and even laughing out of disbelief in Melbourne Central's XTREME screen.

While the film did feel a bit out of balance for me, it really is quite an achievement, a logical next step and new challenge for Miike after 13 Assassins. It was just the reliance on flashbacks that I had a bit of love/hate for. I would be interested to see how Kobayashi handled this in the original. I just think this just goes to show that Miike may be at his weakest while directing the more domestic/family oriented side of the film. Thank goodness for Ebizo Ichikawa, his performance is incredible and made the film's weaker moments much more bearable for me. One more shout-out is due for heavyweight composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, easily one of Japan's greatest composers, or even musicians full stop. Sakamoto also takes Miike's classical approach, contributing a brooding, elegiac score that perfectly matches the film.

I think that if you accept that this film isn't 13 Assassins (and doesn’t try to be) you will enjoy it more. Yes, it is very slow and the violence is in short supply, but by the time you reach the end you will have been treated to a few brilliant plot twists and badass moments. It continues to grow on me since I saw it, and really is quite thought provoking, with its concepts of honour and justice, as well as presenting a wealth of interesting Japanese history and culture.

Cold Fish

冷たい熱帯魚 Sion Sono, 2010

Cold Fish is the second film in Sion Sono’s “Hate trilogy” and this post also marks another look at an “inspired by true events” film. In this case, a husband and wife serial killer couple who owned a pet shop in Tokyo. When I watched Love Exposure I hadn’t realised that it was the first in a trilogy, but upon viewing Cold Fish I see that it probably wouldn’t have mattered to watch them out of order. Sono continues to explore themes of broken families, cults, sex and violence, with his strong contemporary vision and outlandish characters.

 Nobuyuki Shamoto is the beleaguered owner of a modest tropical fish shop, passing through his uneventful existence with his second wife Taeko and rebellious teenage daughter Mitsuko, whose feelings of angst and unacceptance toward each other create a rift in the family. Sono establishes their bleak life through a great opening scene: the preparation of a dinner comprised solely of microwavable convenience store food and its subsequent silent consumption. It is not until Mitsuko finds herself in trouble at a local store for attempted shoplifting that this family’s life begins to change. As though out of nowhere, Yukio Murata, owner of the much larger and more successful “Amazon Gold” tropical fish store approaches Shamoto and his family. What ensues is the rapid forging of a strange relationship. Murata imposes himself upon the weak willed and softly spoken Shamoto, offering, or basically forcing, his delinquent daughter a job and lodging at his fish shop, promising to set her straight, and taking Shamoto on board for certain business ventures that quickly get out of hand. Being too afraid to speak out or decline the at once charismatic and terrifying Murata, Shamoto soon finds himself embroiled in a world of crime, murder and rare tropical fish, with his family collapsing even further.

The fish shop is really quite a bizarre and fascinating setting for a film. It has that aquarium wonderland appeal with its glowing fluorescent lights, dark yet vibrant blues and greens, creating a eerily beautiful day-glo noir feel. On the other hand it has a real kitsch-ness to it, as Murata dances down its aisles to the kind of Hawaiian slide guitar music to be expected in an episode of Spongebob Squarepants, and also serves to render scenes of the most intense variety with ironically comical edge. Driving Gene Krupa style Jazz drums also feature prominently; highlighting Sono’s eccentric treatment of what would have likely become a run of the mill serial killer movie in the hands of another director. The atmosphere of the fish shop is established as equal parts lair and sanctuary, the perfect place to harbour serial killer couple Murata and his wife as they draw in their prey. From here Shamoto and his family are drawn into Murata’s whirlpool and things only get stranger. Murata soon reveals his true psychotic nature, which is no big surprise; his larger than life character is like a combination of your annoying uncle at a family barbecue crossed with Joe Pesci in Goodfellas mixed with a bit of classic Japanese style perversion. Murata’s wife is equally as disturbed, their business and its array of young female employees appears increasingly cult-like (a theme also explored in Love Exposure) and the gore flows freely when they begin eliminating the competition. 

I actually had a bit of a problem with the gore. It’s not that I couldn’t handle it; it’s just that it was treated in such a cartoonish way. It’s so over the top that, along with its completely insane characters, it pushes the whole film into a completely melodramatic, borderline comedy realm. I think that if Sono had toned it down only a few small notches, this film could well have been something approaching a masterpiece. But, that’s just not Sono’s style. However, I think if you consider the tone Sono has taken, and the parameters established; i.e. this is not a conventional serial killer film, then the film really is quite interesting. Cold Fish really is carried by its two male leads, Shamoto, played by Mitsuru Fukikoshi, and Murata, played almost too well by Denden (yes, that’s his name). Fukikoshi delivers a slow burn performance, conveying a quite pathetic man in way over his head until eventually erupting into the antithesis the character we knew previously, while Denden is a non stop assault. Cloying faux concern, vaudeville and hardened gangster are all on display, falling under the shadow of complete psychopath. The supporting cast, Asuka Murata and Megumi Kagurazaka, are also brilliant in their femme fatale style roles. In the end though, it is the theme of crazy upon which each of Sono’s characters play.

Watching Sion Sono’s films, I really get the impression that he is a truly contemporary director. His films just feel very now. They are unsettling, over the top and really seem to push boundaries in terms of characterisation, themes and just how much you can cram into a film. Sort of a Japanese Lars Von Trier, especially when you look at his unconventional female characters. It’s just the slightly over the top cartoon elements that I find kind of beguiling, in an “I’m not sure if I like this” kind of way. But then, there’s something about not really getting it that I do like! Cold Fish is by no means a perfect film, but there were many elements that I really enjoyed. It is a bit long, but it is definitely an interesting take on the whole serial killer/crime film, focusing largely on its characters, which walk a fine line between captivating and just plain too much. Add to that the ridiculous amount of blood and guts, this film will definitely be challenging to some. Nevertheless, Sion Sono remains a very exciting filmmaker and I look forward to getting my hands on a copy of Guilty of Romance, the final instalment in the “Hate Trilogy”.

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.

Battle Royale

バトル・ロワイアル Kinji Fukasaku, (2000)

Madman Films have recently released a reissue of Kinji Fukasaku’s notoriously controversial cult classic Battle Royale, quite possibly to coincide with the release of the film The Hunger Games, which, from what I understand (which really isn’t all that much to be honest) is a borderline rip off of Fukasaku’s modern classic.

Based on Koushun Takami’s novel, Battle Royale is one of my favourite films of all time. A short prologue sets the scene; at the beginning of the new millennium, Japanese society collapsed, with thousands of people out of work and students boycotting school. This state of emergency quickly led to the passing of the government sanctioned “Battle Royale Act”, in which a class of students is selected each year to fight each other to the death on a desert island under adult supervision. The last one alive wins. While I do wish that this economic and societal context was established a bit more, it hardly matters. It is just the kind of vague B-movie set up that serves to get us into the meat of the story. At first glance, Battle Royale is nothing but a pulpy exercise in gratuitous violence, however, there is much more beneath the surface. Characters are quite well established, often through flashbacks, and come across as very believable Japanese schoolkids, often confused and clinging to their school crushes and grudges. Fukasaku creates a world not so far removed from modern Japanese society and reflects the breakdown between youth and adults. The two are often shown in absolute opposition to each other, unable to connect, with familial or pedagogical relationships often strained or downright bizarre.

A scary psychological aspect also comes into play through the behaviour of the students. Upon hearing the rules and premise of the battle, some refuse outright to participate, killing themselves in defiance, while others jump at the chance to settle old scores amongst classmates. Fukasaku appears to condemn the modern Japanese society that has brought about this state of affairs, taking sides with the youth, portraying them as resourceful, loyal and strong, while the adults appear as weak authoritarian figures, unworthy of and unable to gain the youth’s respect.

Each time I watch this film I realise more and more how melodramatic it is, but it is perfectly justified, as it remains in keeping with the film’s overt B-movie premise and aesthetic. In fact, it is this unashamed pulpiness that elevates this film to something far beyond a B-movie. You can expect dreamlike flashbacks, awkward teenage professions of love and over the top death scenes (splattered generously with blood throughout). These melodramatic elements could easily prove to be too much, but Fukasaku’s cast of youths, (many of whom have since gone on to much larger success) create a wide range of interesting characters that collectively create the film’s all important “Class B”. Takeshi Kitano fills the position of the main adult role, as the class’ cold and brutal teacher. It is this negative portrayal of the adults and their society which often creates much of the film’s black humour, one example that comes to mind is the video the students are forced to watch, which explains in a stereotypically overenthusiastic Japanese game-show style, the rules of the game.

This prolific director Fukasaku’s final film. And what a note to end on, summing up his distrust of adults and authority, commenting on modern Japanese society and providing an amazing film that seems intended to speak directly to the youth of today, urging them literally to “Run!”. On top of all this, it is a deliriously violent and exciting wild ride. Madman’s reissue appears to be of the Director’s cut, which adds a few extra scenes and epilogues to the film, however in my opinion, these are largely unnecessary and I would recommend the original cut. Finally, don’t go anywhere near Battle Royale II: Requiem, Fukasaku directed only one scene before his untimely death and the film was completed by his son. It is not a patch on the original.