Abduction (1997)

Gripping from its vertigo-triggering beginning to heart-stopping end

For a film that won three Japanese Academy Awards and helmed by the man who finally killed Godzilla, Abduction sure has fallen into almost complete obscurity, one that I've been after for a very long time. Taking the classic crime thrillers that dominated 60s Japan and filtering them through a deeply melancholic yet utterly gripping 90s lens, the film excels in its quiet desperation of people caught in a crisis, no surprise given director Takao Okawara's impressive line-up of Godzilla films to his name. It's the only one of his directorial efforts not to feature heavy special effects work, no guys in monster suits, no miniature cities being levelled; instead, there's a visceral urgency to the action, with plenty of slick images and an atmosphere rich with tension. Though the story seems simple enough, there's more to the titular abduction than meets the eye, consistently twisting and turning, all coming together in a beautifully executed narrative, confidently guided by Okawara's hand, often leaving us with a gnawing hunger to find out what happens next. The pacing is steady, sometimes even dry, but deliberately so, mirroring the slow, frustrating reality of an investigation where leads don't pan out and time is always slipping away. Everything about its production is so thoroughly absorbing, from its razor-sharp editing to its sumptuous photography. Even the musical score by Takayuki Hattori, despite having never been a huge fan of his work, especially his Godzilla scores, delivers some absolutely enchanting cues, all rounded out by truly exceptional performances from its cast, headed by the Tokyo Drifter himself, Tetsuya Watari. Being Okawara's penultimate film, Abduction is truly amazing, gripping from its vertigo-triggering beginning to heart-stopping end, a real shame that he has remained absent from the director's chair ever since the turn of the millennium.

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