DanTheMan2150AD

A bottomless depth of intentional emptiness

Punk nihilism offset by pure, unfiltered anger, The Youth Killer becomes all the more bleak once you learn the events surrounding it were true, a volatile outburst of teenage desire and frustration, unwilling to be tamed by the people supporting them. The only other film directed by Kazuhiko Hasegawa, The Youth Killer offers a vastly different experience to that of The Man Who Stole the Sun, chronicling the complete collapse of a young man's life in two highly traumatic, chaotic days of murder and madness. The direction and photography capture the suffocating, hellish setting its protagonists inhabit, most fittingly in a film that on occasion, and considering the large parts taking place in single locations with only two actors, points intently towards a stage play. The editing does induce the whole thing with a sense of speed, but the truth is, that the film lags significantly, with certain scenes, especially the exploitation / erotic elements that are there mostly for titillation, overstaying their welcome. There's an unwavering faith in the central performances, a faith that borders on the indulgent though ultimately they do pay off, a lot of the acting is very laconic but it weirdly works with everyone in a heightened distressed state, it adds a great amount of grim reality to the film. Coupled with an upbeat, deranged and nightmarishly unfitting yet extremely catchy Godiego score, The Youth Killer is a difficult watch at times but one with such an integral and fascinating radicalism it's hard to look away from, beautifully shot but sinks into the bottomless depth of intentional emptiness all too easily.

Read More

Kitano breaks down all barriers

Continuing Takeshi Kitano's obsession with the code of yakuza loyalty and belonging while simultaneously making the most of its stranger in a strange land premise, Brother boldly juxtaposes images of geographical displacement and transience with underlying themes of cultural permanence and immutability. One that crafts a new vs old world, brother against brother epic battle straddling both sides of the Pacific style narrative without compromising the stylistic beauty of Kitano's other works. To Kitano, LA appears to have no indigenous culture of its own; he portrays it as nothing but a blank space on which immigrant Japanese, Italians, Africans and Hispanics do battle for supremacy, apparently unencumbered by the laws and customs of America. Although seemingly eager to embrace the shoot-outs of old Westerns, Kitano's screen blows hit home most painfully when he allows us to observe the conflict between assailant and victim at close quarters, as in the wince-inducing scene when Yamamoto grazes Denny's eye with a broken bottle. These encounters invoke the spectre of samurai sword fights rather than frontier shoot-outs is where Kitano's talent for provocative, confrontational filmmaking is pushed to the forefront. Kitano's face, alternately warm and chilly, weatherbeaten and oddly expressive despite its partial paralysis, speaks clearly in any language. It makes his relationship with a very underrated Omar Epps all the more special, these men don't share a common tongue but you can see the development of their relationship as naturally as anyone else. It's a very well-acted film and Kitano's script succeeds in creating likeable characters with the minimum amount of dialogue possible, a talent the man has seemingly never lost. Elsewhere, Kitano's distinctive blend of aggressive visuals and the lyrical, elegiac scoring of his regular composer Joe Hisaishi raise the tone from the sensational to the spiritual, reminding me of Sonatine's haunting mix of music and mayhem. Despite Kitano's own reservations, I highly recommend you give Brother a go, laid back yet rougher than most would expect, it's loud, direct and completely uncompromised, expressing more without words than most directors would dare to achieve.

Read More

Kinda amazed Fukasaku didn't do more straight comedies.

A darkly comedic heist thriller exploding with pulp sensibilities, Gambling Den Heist sees Kinji Fukasaku try his hand at something a bit more light-hearted than the yakuza dramas he was more widely known for. It retains his characteristic cynicism and violence but has a degree of fun with the material to balance things out, showcasing the criminals of Japan as both hilariously incompetent and brutally effective. When friendship and loyalty become manipulative tools for our bosses, we inevitably wind up feeling lonely, disillusioned, and looking out only for ourselves. It's a briskly paced story, never getting bogged down in the details or too convoluted with character motivations. It has some hilarious scenes that thankfully never veer too far into madcap. All of Fukasaku's directional trademarks are here and out in full force, the cast is fantastic with a highly energetic Kinya Kitaoji in the leading role and the musical score by Toshiaki Tsushima is as upbeat and funky as you could want from a film like this. Gambling Den Heist is easily one of Kinji Fukasaku's more underrated films of his impressive filmography, the dude could direct a film like this in his sleep and it would still be fantastic, yes it's more lightweight than some of his more heavy hitters, but damn if this isn't just incredible fun.

Read More

Don't be put off by the first half

Representing the first starring vehicle for Yuen Biao, he had a lot riding on Knockabout, a chance to show that his combination of martial arts prowess, good looks and acting skills could blossom into the charisma of a movie star, someone who could be at the centre of a major picture. Surrounded by a combination of old pros and rising young stars, given a script no worse than most kung fu comedies of the period, he was given every chance to flourish, which thankfully he did. As a comedy, the film doesn't quite work as well as intended, the humour is extremely laboured and chock full of poor jokes that admittedly probably work better with a crowd; once the humour backs off and Sammo Hung's action choreography is allowed to take centre stage, the film massively improves ten fold to the point I'm willing to forgive the majority of bad jokes and Karl Maka mugging the camera. While Sammo's direction is fantastic, unfortunately, the pacing is completely borked. It could have really benefitted from the odd trim here and there to tighten it up, especially during the rather painful first half because once the second half begins, it becomes something truly special. Despite my negativity, Knockabout truly benefits from Yuen Biao's effortless likeability, a strong supporting cast, an extraordinarily evil villain played perfectly by Lau Kar-Wing and some outstanding fight sequences that keep it from becoming an otherwise disposable venture, improving the longer you stick with it. I probably would have liked this a lot more had it not been for the sour first impression.

Read More

A huge downshift

In its attempt to one-up The Peacock King, Saga of the Phoenix unfortunately feels like a massive downturn often coming across as a huge internal battle between two directors whose styles do not fit together, cutting the darker and more adult fantasy elements to make it more kid-friendly was a poor move. Poor Yuen Biao spends most of the film encased in ice and nobody seems to care, granted the sequences helmed by Lam Nai-Choi are a sight to behold with plenty of great special effects work and dazzling production design, however, the action is sorely lacking even if it is rather well shot. Nobody ever sets out to make a bad film but sometimes even the best intentions go badly awry, there's a wealth of oddness and general daftness to keep you entertained but it lacks what made its predecessor special. Granted the film does earn an extra brownie point with me for having Zatōichi himself, Shintarō Katsu, in the film even if it is a relatively small role. By the time Biao returns to the film to set things straight, the damage has been done. Truth be told, the film is passable in spurts but sadly, it's also 25 minutes too long. The scope of Saga of the Phoenix may be smaller but there's still a lot of charming creativity which means I can't hate the effort, although catering the film for a younger demographic did not help matters and hurt its overall impact.

Read More

Daigoro is an ugly mf

Made to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Tsuburaya Productions, Daigoro vs. Goliath is certainly a film that follows in the goofy, thoroughly ridiculous crater-like footsteps of other 70s kaiju films, one that I can't help but make the comparison with the latter Showa era Gamera films in all their painful child-centric antics. It's the kind of kaiju film that wouldn't appeal to anyone over the age of 6, despite being bright, colourful and laden with sing-along musical numbers, strained slapstick, crazy contraptions and abundant juvenile whimsy, there's certainly a crowd for this type of rubbish, unfortunately, I am not one of them. However, I can give credit to a lot of the special effects sequences, mainly the miniatures and pyrotechnics, both of which are top-notch, though they are few and far between the otherwise horrifically ugly kaiju designs (and I thought Minilla was the ugliest mf). The usually reliable director Toshihiro Iijima delivers some exceptionally heavy-handed social commentary, far from the more subtle approaches to his work on Ultraman, while Toru Fuyuki delivers a score that would make you think he fell asleep in the recording booth, the acting is no better and plays like a half-arsed classic sitcom. Daigoro vs. Goliath can be perfectly summed up as an experience in the scene where Daigoro uses a giant Toilet to do his gargantuan business while the human cast looks on in a bizarre fascination, this is not a film I can easily recommend and ultimately feels like a tax write off cause Tsuburaya couldn't make the historical epic they initially wanted.

Read More

Guerilla warfare

Initially convincing Police Tactics as the final instalment of the series, all the stops were pulled out in intensifying the gangland war left unfinished by the end of the previous film, one that fully delivers on the Battles Without Honor and Humanity namesake. Instead of a unified assault, the battles of this film are more like guerilla warfare, as one side attacks the other and waits for the inevitable retaliation, drawing the ire of civilians and finally forcing the police to act. Of the sequels, this one is the most similar in tone and execution to the original, it also comes with a considerable amount of dark comedy, something unexpected from the series but certainly welcome. Fukasaku continually mounts his impressive direction, drawing a brittle atmosphere of blood splattering the camera, as the unsteady warmth which had temporarily united them, shatters to slivers as they all get forced to the wilderness. There's a double dosing of chaotic violence in this entry as everything comes to a head, darker, uglier and completely unsympathetic with everyone in a constant state of conflict that seemingly never ends. The cast is once again phenomenal, everyone feels so lived-in and believable, and there are too many standouts to name especially Bunta Sugawara at the centre of it all. Powered by the deep grooves of another fantastic Toshiaki Tsushima score; Proxy War was all about setting up the game, Police Tactics comes in, flips the game board and laughs as all the pieces go flying, rounding off the story in an explosively satisfying manner yet the War for Hiroshima is far from over.

Read More

Power plays and ticking time bombs

Returning the focus to Bunta Sugawara's gangster Hirono and the ongoing brutal power plays after the events of its predecessor, Proxy War ups the betrayal, scheming and chaos akin to that of a ticking time bomb, counting down to detonation. Alliances are formed only to be broken the next second, rival parties are reconciled only to go at it again the next day. It's definitely the most deliberately paced entry so far, a slow burn and a convoluted one at that to be sure, as the yakuza get richer and expand, they also grow more cautious, preferring to handle situations with mediators at a dinner table instead of in a dark alley with a knife. A real testament to Kazuo Kasahara's meticulously crafted screenplay. Kinji Fukasaku attempts to show some semblance of restraint in the chaos this time, taking his time to build the field of play before it all erupts in sudden assassinations and gangland violence, there's not as much blood as in previous instalments, but when violence erupts, you feel it. Fukasaku's use of widescreen filming techniques is on full display here, filling every inch of the frame with movement and colour. You could watch these scenes multiple times and each time focus on something different because every actor is doing something, unwilling to go unnoticed even when the scene is being powered by someone else. Everyone fights for your attention and thanks to the continually strong performances from the cast, they all demand it. Backed by another exceptional score by Toshiaki Tsushima, it's hard not to appreciate just how well Proxy War tells its story. It has enough going on to fill out a three-hour film but the fact that Fukasaku delivered that story in under two hours is rather amazing, a tight film with not a single wasted scene or subplot. While the film may lack some of the chaotic madness seen in the first two films it more than makes up for that with a clear vision and a deftly plotted screenplay.

Read More

Hiroshima Death March

The political machinations of the yakuza world provide bloody, non-stop thrills in this deliriously anarchic sequel that is never less than fascinating for its attention to personal details and vivid pictorial exploration of a criminal, country-wide hornet's nest. Deadly Fight in Hiroshima may take a more linear direction than that of its predecessor due to its basis having not been finished at the time of filming, the screenplay by Kazuo Kasahara cleverly weaves an adaptation of real-life gangster Mitsuji Yamagami, whilst continuing to build upon the themes of the first Battle. Fukasaku's direction continues to impress, unveiling an eye for breathing space in the middle of the blood-flowing whirlpool; the action sequences are brutal and unforgiving with the camera work by Sadaji Yoshida, at times, mesmerising, especially in the film's final twenty minutes, where Yamanaka is hunted in the rainy laneways of Hiroshima, those are exceptionally beautiful. Despite Sonny Chiba's impressive performance as the ultra-psychotic Katsutoshi, whose manic, psychotic body language jerking movements are used by Chiba to hold Katsutoshi as a ticking time bomb keeping everyone on edge; Bunta Sugawara's weighty presence, despite taking a back seat in this episode, the film truly belongs to Kinya Kitaoji and, the lone voice of feminine voice within the first two films, Meiko Kaji. Their chemistry is fantastic; you get a real feel for these two forbidden lovers' plight, a testament to Fukasaku's handling of the romance, which is deft and touching without becoming cloying. Backed by another spidery score from Toshiaki Tsushima (who even includes a playful nod to Seijun Suzuki's Tokyo Drifter), Deadly Fight in Hiroshima might be a more commercial film than it's predecessor, but just as worthwhile, one that's magnificently vicious and brutally exhilarating.

Read More

Self destruction

The epitome of humanity's self-destructive nature in its raw, chaotic form all delivered via Kinji Fukasaku's ultraviolent, handheld stylistic blitzkrieg. The title says it all. There's a true sense of lawlessness at the heart of Battles Without Honor and Humanity, one that applies the electric shock treatment to lobotomise any romantic notions of gangsterdom. A dog-eat-dog world of violent, craven thugs and corrupt law enforcers, here the traditional codes of humanity and group loyalty on which Japan's postwar foundations were built are revealed to be a sham. There's some truly superb acting here from everyone involved, although Bunta Sugawara is a clear scene-stealer, a diverse cast of characters who offer a different perspective with their own viewpoints. Fukasaku demonstrates his great skill as a director, and his technique perfectly fits the movie's tone. Using a fast-paced, erratic, nearly chaotic style the action scenes offer us that taste of brutality we wouldn't have felt had the film been directed more traditionally. Fukasaku strays from the established formula of people getting killed fast and easy with one or two bullets instead he shows us an alternative to that: a slow, painful exercise, one that more accurately portrays the yakuza's violent lifestyle. Yet there are no large body counts, the battles are often predetermined with one side attacking an individual or small group from the other, by surprise and in overwhelming force. There really is no honour in the Japanese underworld. Bright, brash, violent and bloody terrific it's hard not to see how Battles Without Honor and Humanity triumphs, a brilliantly, violent tale about the dark and unforgiving nature of the Japanese crime syndicate that once it starts, never stops.

Read More

A melancholic goodbye to the dreams of youth

A melancholic goodbye to the dreams of youth, Kids Return is easily one of Takeshi Kitano's most personal films, one with a strong empathy for disenfranchised youth while also looking forward to what the future holds. At the story's core, we have the theme of friendship and life choice, represented by the path and decisions of the main characters but still retrains of all Kitano's trademarks and stylings from the affectionately stupid pranks of the leads to the recurring appearance of a twin comedy group, who banter in the style Kitano's own "Two Beats" double act, but it's organized, more confident. He knows what he wants to say, and how he wants to say it. Having grown up in poverty, Kitano likely felt some kinship with his prankster punk anti-heroes but refreshingly refuses to sugar-coat their more disreputable behaviour. They are surly and disrespectful with bad attitudes and a streak of believable, if unfortunate, cruelty. Yet Shinji and Masaru suffer their share of beatings and misfortune as boxing proves no more salvation for the former than the yakuza life suits the latter. The dual messages that there are no shortcuts to success and a lack of diligence can undo the most promising young dreams might seem conservative but the film is more complex than that. Takeshi places his protagonists in a world manipulated by embittered old men whose mixed messages and bad advice leave them uncertain about what is right and wrong. These are not triumphant stories but the film still ends on a frail yet persuasively hopeful note. After his near-fatal motorcycle accident, there was supposedly doubt as to whether Takeshi Kitano would ever work again, with his usual outstanding direction, sumptuous photography and yet another incredible score by Joe Hisaishi, Kids Return crushes pretty much crushes all doubts in one fell swoop.

Read More

Fukuda does Fukasaku

Cut from the same cloth as the likes of Spielberg's Duel, 3,000 Kilometer Trap / Shadows of the Highway sprang from the golden age of Japanese automotive films, one that offers up a surprisingly sombre and low-key chase thriller across the Japanese landscape. It's directed exceptionally well by the usually ridiculous Jun Fukuda. There are few images quite as breathtaking as the black-striped, bright orange GTO floating over blankets of white. However, it does feel like Toho desired him to capture the same aesthetics and style you'd see in a Kinji Fukasaku thriller rather than his usual madcap direction. The acting all around is solid and the pacing is exceptionally nippy, breezing with the roar of an engine accompanied by a brilliant cheesy cool jazz score by Norio Maeda serving as the perfect companion for an epic cross-Japan road trip. Despite a couple of questionable sex scenes and having next to no internet presence, it is very worthwhile to seek out Shadows of the Highway, it's tense, moody and exhilarating in the way only the best car chases can be.

Read More

Assured, poetic and a gently unassuming cinematic masterpiece

Takeshi Kitano is one of the few directors who can bring me to tears in seemingly every manner possible, A Scene at the Sea is no exception. A beautifully realised tale of an outsider who almost unwittingly finds himself embraced by a community he seems virtually indifferent to in his single-minded determination to master a new and chance-discovered obsession. Tethered to only the slightest narrative, the film evokes the experience of early love and disappointment in a manner both sharp and tender. Kitano has managed to excel himself by retaining all the interesting and original traits of his more graphic films, yet managing to tell a story that is just as deep and provocative, only to a more subtle degree. With much of the film playing with no dialogue at all, it's down to the body language and facial expressions of the performers, the shot choice and the editing skills of the director to tell the story, you only need to have seen one of Kitano's other directorial works to know that this is a long way from a tall order. The camera work is extremely sedate and enveloping, managing to capture the beautiful tranquillity of the ocean. The characters do not speak, yet the story never seems to drag at all, with each scene drawing the viewer steadily into this very attractive and insular world that they inhabit. And then there's Joe Hisaishi's music... A haunting mixture of marimba, synthesisers, piano & strings, it augments the atmospheric stillness and compliments the mood of the film perfectly. A hugely important film in Kitano's development as a filmmaker, one in which he discarded his dramatic safety net to tell a small story in a resolutely minimalist fashion and scored a bold, quietly brilliant bulls-eye. There's no violence, precious little dialogue and the tone and pacing vary little throughout, yet the hold exerted by the characters and storytelling is considerable, one that speaks in confident whispers instead of shouting its qualities in the manner of more attention-grabbing early works from any number of younger filmmakers the world over. A Scene at the Sea remains to this day one of his most assured, poetic and yet gently unassuming cinematic achievements, one that can be genuinely moving but never slips for a moment into sentimentality. I love it.

Read More

Full on Ninja Mania

Pitting the lethal arts of Chinese Kung Fu and Japanese ninjitsu against each other in a battle for supremacy, Ninja in the Dragon's Den seemingly has everything you'd ever want out of a martial arts film and the kitchen sink thrown in for good measure, be it ridiculous stilt fighting, ninjas galore, demonic possession, the hero fighting the latter half of the movie in a pink outfit and female anatomy saving the day, this is undoubtedly a classic; a mixture of typical Jackie Chan-style comedy and hard-hitting ninja action, but unusually the two styles mix very well and the film, as a result, is great fun. This Hong Kong / Japanese co-production came about due to the explosion of ninja-mania in the early 80s, one that showcases the contrasting styles of its two cultures in plenty of no-holds-barred and hilarious action. For being Corey Yuen's directorial debut, he pretty much knocked it out of the park on his first go, despite the conventional storyline he manages to give the material a slightly unusual twist, a credit to his years as an action choreographer, offering up highly entertaining set pieces with an endearing vein of slapstick humour. Young Conan Lee and Hiroyuki Sanada are particularly well-rounded here, although Sanada eclipses Lee for most of the runtime, the film does a great job of exhibiting their respective skills. Playing as an offbeat tribute and parody of its own Ninjaspolitation sub-genre, it's hard not to love Ninja in the Dragon’s Den, an exhilarating action film that fully delivers for every second of its running time, the amazingly repetitive theme song certainly reinforces that.

Read More

Full rebellion mode

Resident bad boy Seijun Suzuki in full rebellion mode, Branded to Kill refuses all direct relations with geography in depicting a career hitman on the verge of losing control, one that's discordant, broken and thoroughly berserk. The film is infamous for Suzuki's firing by Nikkatsu, with Suzuki doubling down on everything they hated his films for after all the restrictions placed upon him, the result is an arresting cocktail of sex, violence and surrealism, the monochrome hues accentuating the perversity of the entire twisted venture; it thrums along to an irresistible hard-bop beat, with effortlessly stylish black and white cinematography and set-pieces straight from a pulp fiction fever dream. Because it's so free of the conventions of other crime thrillers, ignoring all rules of conventional filmmaking and forgoing a traditional three-act structure, the disorienting camera angles and jumps in time are all part of the atmosphere. Suzuki outdid himself with this astonishing blend of yakuza films, film noir and new wave, yes it makes little sense but the strong performances from its cast, especially that of Jō Shishido uplift Branded to Kill to the stuff of legendary status in all its audacious genre-bending and narrative-busting ways.

Read More