The Green Slime (1968)

This is a rather big cheat, as though i'm writing this for the Wildgrounds Japanese Blogathon it's actually an international production - though co-produced by Toei Company and lensed in Japan - with an entirely English speaking cast. That said, it was directed by the late, great Kinji Fukasaku (who had a long career directing genre films, but might be best known for helming Battle Royale) and features plenty of miniature special effects by Toei's usual Godzilla film crew, so i'm thinking it should still count. Add in the fact that The Green Slime has just been released in beautiful widescreen through the great folks at the Warner-Archive and I don't think the timing could be much better. Considering how long the film has only been available in muddy, painfully cropped VHS versions, this new version is practically a revelation.

Which isn't to say that this film is sterling. Even compared to the rough approximation of science expected in sci-fi films of the time, this one will consistently be having you scratch your heads. Despite coming out the same year as 2001: A Space Odyssey, the special effects in The Green Slime are more than a little rough around the edges, though have plenty of goofy charm. When you see a space station burning in space, sending smoke spiraling upwards you sort of just have to go with it. Combine with performances that run the gamut from stiff to uptight, and settings that represent that special 1960s view of the future (go-go boots, miniskirts and lots of flashing lights) and you're in for a very specific kind of pleasure.

It's the future and Commander Jack Rankin (Robert Horton) is pulled out of his impending retirement when some brainy science people at the United Nations Space Command discover an asteroid headed towards planet earth. Jack is plenty conflicted about his past - particularly his former friendship with Commander Vince Elliott (Richard Jaeckel from The Dirty Dozen) - but accepts the (apparently suicide) mission to plant charges on the asteroid, despite having to prepare for the mission on space station Gamma-3, which is currently Commanded by.. Vince Elliott. Are you getting all of this?

To make things even more complicated, Vince's current fiancée is Dr. Lisa Benson who used to be Jack's gal and still has rather obvious feelings for him, much to the perpetually intense Vince's chagrin. Despite the hard feelings, Vince volunteers to join the mission and the group successfully carry out their mission thanks to some heroics from Rankin. However, the scientist guy they brought along found a green slimy life form on the planet, and accidentally brought some of it back with him. You may be wondering if this slime feeds off electricity and rapidly grow into tentacled creatures that run amuck around the space station, and your suspicions would be correct.

Despite in-fighting, Jack and Vince decide to corral the creatures - who have the ability to heal themselves and procreate from a drop of blood - into a section of the space station and blow it up real good. When this proves only to litter the side of Gamma-3 with the creatures - realized in one of the film's crummier effects - Rankin makes the decision to evacuate the space station before demolishing the whole thing. There are lots of rubber suits, heroic sacrifices, and plenty of the titular green slime to go around.

I mentioned the goofy charm of the special effects in this and other late 60s Toho monster movies, and while this one doesn't have the wholesale destruction evident in the Godzilla movies of the time, there's still plenty of impressive (though totally unconvincing) model-work to be seen here. The actual green slime creatures are pretty terrific, with waving tentacles (often with visible guidelines) and a giant red eye that can blink, though we never see more than a handful on-screen (except for the rather poor looking shots of the outside of Gamma-3). Gamma-3 itself looks like something out of The Thunderbirds, and while it looks ok when it's spinning silently in the cosmos, once you add smoke and fire to the equation it's a bit difficult to take seriously - especially with a very visible wire holding it up. 

While the actual plot has echoes of many 50s science-fiction films - the unkillable creatures in a remote location bring to mind The Thing From Another World, while the character of the scientist whose wish to study the creature ends up nearly killing us all is a staple of the genre- the film's biggest flaw is that the main characters are simply too unpleasant. While Rankin is shown to be tough-as-nails and a quick thinker, he's also ego-maniacal and makes nearly as many bad decisions as Vince, who is a perpetual screw-up throughout. Luciana Paluzzi (best known as Fiona Volpe in Thunderball) as Lisa is certainly attractive, but is particularly unconvincing as a doctor (what is she doing with that stethoscope?). While the performances are stiff - and not helped by the sometimes shaky dubbing - the leads are fine, it's just the characters who have difficulty holding interest.

Blame for this has to go to the committee of television and b-movie writers who collaborated on the script, including Batman co-creator Bill Finger, who weighed down a fun, pulpy adventure film with unnecessary melodrama and cardboard characters. Director Fukasaku does the best he can keeping things moving, but it's sometimes at the expense of continuity as i'm still not quite sure I fully grasp some of the crew's plans in the final half hour. Much can be forgiven, however, thanks to the inclusion of one of the very best science fiction theme songs ever. Composed by Charles Fox, the psychedelic song plays over the opening credits and it is outstanding. The film's actual score is comparatively subdued, though is occasionally inappropriately cartoonish during what should be rather tense scenes. 

When developing the concept for what would eventually become Mystery Science Theater 3000 the creators used segments from The Green Slime to exhibit the kind of fun but ridiculous films they would be featuring, and it's easy to see why it was chosen. Full of ridiculous dialogue played totally straight and plenty of fun monsters and explosions, the film takes itself just seriously enough to remain enjoyable fun despite flat characters and inconsistent special effects. Lots to love for fans of monster movies, and thankfully given a wonderful looking DVD release that shows off its dated - but still wonderfully enjoyable - style.

Fish Story (2009)

The blurb on the back of the DVD cover reads: "FISH STORY weaves together several seemingly separate storylines taking place at different points in time over a 37-year span to explain how a little punk rock song can save the world." That's an intriguing premise, for sure. Can a song save the world? If you're going into this film, you're probably thinking, "yes, yes it can," since it's unlikely that someone will make a film about how a song can't save the world. And you'd be right.


What's perhaps quite surprising is the way that the song--performed by Gekirin (Wrath) and entitled "Fish Story"--manages to pull off this particular bit of salvation. This isn't a metaphoric or poetic saving of the world; people don't get together to sing it, fighting back injustice, oppression, etc., in the face of adversity. No, "Fish Story," the song, manages to directly influence events in just such a way that Earth's inevitable demise is staved off. Thank god for that.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. FISH STORY begins in 2012, with a comet hurdling towards Earth. This isn't the same premise as ARMAGEDDON--this is a deliberate ripoff of ARMAGEDDON. Even the plan to save the world is similar. In any event, instead of worrying about the future, one young man decides to go to the record store, and pick up an old album, which features--you guessed it!--"Fish Story." And so the tale of that song begins to unfold...



First we travel back to 1982, where a shy and submissive young'un named Masahi is introduced to "Fish Story" by his incredibly annoying and abusive 'friends.' Masahi (Gaku Hamada), chauffeuring his friends to a rendezvous, overhears that "Fish Story" is haunted; indeed, it has 60 seconds of silence, right in the middle of the track. The tape (remember, this is the 80s) warns that this isn't an error--the silence is deliberately there. But, his friend explains, some people don't hear silence. Some hear a woman screaming! And if you happen to be that someone, well, watch out, cuz your days are numbered. Not only is this a great urban legend, but it sounds exactly like the plot of so many recent J-horrors.

So, what happens to Masahi? Unfortunately, this is one of those films where, to explain it, I'd essentially be ruining the ending. You're not provided with the end of Masahi's story, before we time-travel to 2009, and a mini action movie/love story set on a boat, with a hero who has been specially trained (since birth) to fuck dudes up. Kind of like Steven Seagal's UNDER SEIGE. But not as good. And then--whiz, bang--we're back in 1975, to see how "Fish Story" was recorded in the first place. All the while, we keep checking back in to 2012, where--you guessed it!--a group of international astronauts have hatched a scheme to explode that naughty comet. Way to go, fellas!


Far and away the strongest part of the film is the final, oldest story: the 1975 genesis of the song that the whole movie revolves around. The actors are believable as a band, and not only a band, but a punk rock band. And that's hard to pull off; an actor with some ratty clothes and funny hair usually just looks like a fucking poser. More to the point, the actual song, "Fish Story," is an incredibly catchy piece of punk rock.

As you can probably tell, none of the individual sections of the movie provide the viewer with anything new. The journey of a submissive guy growing a pair, a hostage-taking and ass-kicking scenario, an unpopular band fighting to find its voice, a doomed planet--this is all tried and true stuff. Yoshihiro Nakamura's FISH STORY succeeds above all odds, because somehow it does make it all work. But you have to wait until the very last moment of the film. Until then, everything just kind of hangs there, tenuously. The film isn't helped by the fact that it, like a few recent Japanese films I've encountered (I'm thinking of LOVE EXPOSURE) looks like it was shot on the cheap, for a local cable channel. OK, that's probably an exaggeration; the best I can say is that the film itself doesn't look cinematic. It looks more like a soap opera. Still, FISH STORY tells a good yarn; like its namesake, a very regular tale (the story of a song) becomes bigger. And bigger. And bigger...

Dororo (2007)

Back home in Japan, the late Osamu Tezuka was known as the God of Manga and you don't get a title like that without being one helluva storyteller.

Tezuka-san's stories have followed me all of my life and I am a better person for it. As I child and later as a teenager, I yearned for respect much like Kimba the White Lion and as a father I have pondered the mistakes of Professor Tenma from Astro Boy and have learned the true value of fatherhood and will always appreciate the blessings that come with raising a child.

In 2006, I heard that Dororo was going to be made into a feature length film. That bothered me because I wasn't terribly sure how well Tezuka would translate into live-action. The animated versions of Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion were entertaining enough kiddie fare, but they really weren't allowed to explore the depths that Tezuka did in the manga.

As a motion picture, Dororo has quite a bit going for it but it suffers from some of the same issues that Blood: The Last Vampire did.

The actual premise of Dororo is quite fascinating and seems to take cues from nearly every Shakespearian or Greek tragedy worth its salt.

The tale begins in feudal Japan with the warlord Kagemitsu Daigo (Kiichi Nakai) suffering a horrible military defeat. Kagemitsu seeks shelter in a remote temple and in his rage and despair, makes a pact with 48 evil spirits. He agrees to give each spirit (referred to as a demon in the English subtitles but more in flavor with the yōkai of traditional folklore than the demonic oni) permission to take one of the body parts of his unborn son in exchange for dominion over his enemies.

As a result, Kagemitsu's son is born with no limbs or facial features to speak of. In despair, Kagemitsu's wife sets their child adrift along a river in a style befitting Moses of Old Testament fame and the child is eventually plucked from the jaws of death by Dr. Honma (Yoshio Harada, whom some will recognize from Rônin-gai and the Christopher Lambert ninja vehicle, The Hunted).

Honma is no ordinary doctor; he specializes in alchemy and in yet another Tezuka plot device inspired by Frankenstein, Honma roams the country side and collects the dead bodies of children butchered in village raids during Kagemitsu's return to power. Honma then distills the corpses and uses the essence to create prosthetic devices that will allow Kagemitsu's heir apparent to function as a normal human being.

But Honma doesn't stop there. His final procedure gives the child use of a pair of magical swords grafted to his forearms and hidden away by his prosthetic hands. Eventually, the yōkai track the child down and kill Dr. Honma while trying to eliminate Kagemitsu's heir and then the story begins in earnest as Kagemitsu's heir (who eventually earns the name "Hyakkimaru" and is played by heartthrob, Satoshi Tsumabuki) embarks on a quest to kill the 48 yōkai and regain his lost humanity.

The hitch being that every time Hyakkimaru kills a yōkai, part of him returns to flesh and blood. As he regains his humanity, Hyakkimaru loses the invulnerability and preternatural ability afforded to him by his magical prosthetics.

If you're thinking, "So it is like a jidai-geki version of Edward Scissorhands," you would not be too far off of the mark.

The titular "Dororo" (Kou Shibasaki) is a tough yet sensitive ingénue thief who runs afoul of Hyakkimaru while he is in pursuit of a jorōgumo (a type of yōkai who can take the shape of a beautiful woman, but whose true form is that of a monstrous spider) which claimed one of Hyakkimaru's legs as its price for lending its aid to Kagemitsu.

Like Hyakkumaru, Dororo "earns" her name rather than simply being born with one. She remains unfazed by the fact that Hyakkimaru is actually insulting her when he refers to her as "Dororo" (which supposedly means "little monster") or perhaps she doesn't care. It seems a small price to pay in exchange for a life of danger and excitement.

The rest of the film alternates through several misadventures with a portion of the other yōkai and concludes with the inevitable showdown between Hyakkimaru and his father, Kagemitsu.

There is a part of me that really wants to fall in love with this movie. The dynamic between Hyakkimaru and Dororo is interesting as they both take turns protecting and mentoring one another. Dororo teaches Hyakkimaru what it is to be human, while Hyakkimaru has to teach Dororo that there is more to appreciate about life other than material wealth.

Dororo finds that lesson insulting as Hyakkimaru is protected from the hardships of poverty. As a homunculus of sorts, Hyakkimaru doesn't need to eat, so he can't appreciate how horrible it is to go hungry. Should Hyakkimaru succeed in killing Kagemitsu, he'll be the heir to Kagemitsu's throne so Hyakkimaru can't appreciate what it is to be poor.

The problem that plagues Dororo is the same one that plagues the previously mentioned (and reviewed) Blood: The Last Vampire and that is laughable special effects. The yōkai in the movie alternately are represented by actors in ridiculous costumes, cringe-inducing models, or some of the most underwhelming CGI since The Mummy Returns. It really is regrettable that such a potentially powerful story is undermined by this technical issue.

The yōkai are a key element of the plotline so you'd think that they'd be presented in a manner proportionate to their relative importance to the story. They don't necessarily have to be so terrifying as to generate nightmares, but you'd hope that a respectable part of the budget would be spent making the yōkai as impressive as possible.

But, we're talking about Japan here; the nation who made an art form out of guys dressed in rubber lizard suits smashing their way though cardboard mock-ups of Tokyo.

The unintentional humor injected in the story by the chuckle-worthy yōkai provides moments of levity which serve the admirable purpose of keeping Dororo from collapsing under the weight of absolute despair (there are some scenes in the movie which are genuinely touching) but even so, it'd be nice if the yōkai provided a bit more menace.

I'm not so dense as not to recognize deliberate camp when I see it. I just think that the profound parts of this movie serve us better than the humorous ones. Dororo is a tale of the struggle between the giving of one's self versus the sacrifice of others to serve one's own selfish desires and that is a timeless morale that everyone should try to appreciate.

Oh, and don't get me wrong. I wouldn't have watched this movie if not for the promise of a swordfight or two and Ching Siu-Tung's over-the-top action scenes help smooth over some of the rankled feathers raised by the CGI. There is ample bloodshed that will easily satisfy your inner gore hound.

It should probably go without saying but Hyakkimaru only tracks down about half of the yōkai during the course of this particular movie, so the promise of sequels is out there. I'd actually like to see how the tale (and the relationship between Dororo and Hyakkimaru) progresses, so here's hoping that a follow-up film comes out very soon.

Kyonyû doragon: Onsen zonbi vs sutorippâ 5 (The Big Tits Dragon) (2010)

Part of the oddly popular "stripper vs zombie" sub-genre (which also includes Zombie Strippers! (2008) and Zombies! Zombies! Zombies! (2008)),  Kyonyû doragon: Onsen zonbi vs sutorippâ 5 - also known by a multitude of increasingly offensive titles - may originate from the manga Kyonyū Dragon by Rei Mikamoto, but it's obviously heavily influenced by the recent slate of ultra-violent low-budget Japanese exploitation films like Machine Girl and Tokyo Gore Police, as well as Quentin Tarantino's Grindhouse and Kill Bill whose attempts at a modern exploitation rebirth are echoed in the spaghetti western references of the soundtrack, and in its deliberately aged and scratched opening credits. With a title like this you probably know what you're in for, and thankfully director Takano Nakano (who also helmed the wonderfully titled Sexual Parasite: Killer Pussy (2004)) seems to feel obligated to deliver the goods. 

We begin with a grammatically iffy lift of the title card from Sergio Leone's For a Few Dollars More, and you could be excused for beginning to grow concerned about the quality control already on display. Thankfully such concerns are pushed to the wayside as we're thrown into an immediate bloody fray between the chainsaw wielding Lena Jodo (Japanese AV star Sola Aoi) and a hoard of zombies of surprisingly varying quality. We very quickly get an idea of what we're going to be in for over the next 73 minutes - lots of CG-assisted splatter and flying limbs in the mold of Troma films, and with a winking sense of humor lest you get concerned that a film also known as Big Tit Zombies might get a bit too dark.

The plot follows Lena - newly arrived back in Japan after a booze-fueled trip through Mexico (she carries a sombrero and some obvious Spaghetti Western undertones) - as she gets a job stripping at the Paradise Ikagawa Theater, along with former criminal Ginko (AV star Risa Kasumi), Gothic Lolita Maria (Gravure idol Mari Sakurai), money obsessed Dana (Io Aikawa) and the older Nene (Tamayo). After a temporary closing due to lack of business, the five find themselves incredibly bored and begin working at a local Spa to make some extra money. Thankfully they manage to find a secret door in the dressing room which leads to a room that includes both a Well of Spirits and a Necronomicon, which Maria (who is constantly quoting Shakespeare and Rochefoucauld) wastes no time in using to bring the dead to life. These are the shuffling, bite-one-and-you-become-one type of zombies, and soon the town is overrun.

Dana gets eaten rather quickly, but while Lena, Ginko and a newly bitten Nene attempt to escape, Maria gleefully accepts life as a zombie queen. We soon discover that Ginko holds a horrible secret involving her time in prison, while Nene develops a fire-spouting vagina - quelled by a quick gun blast to the head. Lena and Ginko decide to seal up the Well of Spirits, but they'll have to contend with Maria, the puppet head of zombie Dana (simultaneously both the film's worst and most enjoyable effect) and a slew of zombies. Oh, and as expected they lose their tops a couple of times each as well.

It might be excessive to mention that the film's proceedings take place with tongue pressed firmly through cheek, but I was actually impressed with some of the sharp writing on display - particularly in Maria's ridiculous Lolita character who takes time to explain the political themes of Romero's Night of the Living Dead, and refers to a severed hand as an "ultimate wrist slitting" (Maria is earlier shown to be a cutter, and her Goth love is a constant source of amusement). There are purely bizarre moments: zombie sushi, eyeball ping-pong, battling an extended zombie tongue with wasabi paste, but they all contribute to the unhinged, anything-can-happen atmosphere. 

While slow to get going - at least after the opening scene which nearly repeats in full at the film's end - the pace builds nicely to an impressive final half hour, even as the quality of the special effects starts to get a bit sketchy. Visual effects are by Tsuyoshi Kazuno, who also worked on Machine Girl, RoboGeisha, and similar projects, and if you've seen the copious ridiculous visual effects in those films you probably know what to expect. As a director Nakano is inconsistent, though he's obviously willing to accept his limitations and manages to fit in a few moody shots when he's not zooming into his cast's cleavage. This is obviously quick and dirty filmmaking, though has a similar anarchic spirit to earlier film's like the Guitar Wolf starring Wild Zero.

Acting awards go to Sola Aoi in the lead - she brings a lot of charisma and energy to a role that demands it - and Mari Sakurai who brings a fun twist to the villain role. Risa Kasumi is attractive, but is a bland performer and looks uncomfortable and stiff during her action scenes. She's also saddled with the only thing resembling drama in the film, but unfortunately doesn't exude the toughness needed for the role. Watch out for comedian Minoru Torihada who pops up briefly at the film's end.

I should mention that this film was also released in a 3D version, though I've read only a handful of short sequences that take advantage of the format - with a countdown that appears on the screen when necessary. I doubt you'll be missing much watching this in 2D, but if you want to get the full Big Tits Dragon experience you'll need to pony up for that edition.

An intentionally goofy and gleefully rough around the edges gorefest, Kyonyû doragon: Onsen zonbi vs sutorippâ 5 wraps the requisite amount of laughs, breasts and blood into its brief run time. While obviously saddled by budgetary limitations and the casting of porno actresses in some of the lead roles, there is enough demented chaos on display to keep all but the most jaded viewer from cracking a smile. At the very least it delivers exactly what it promises, and there's certainly nothing wrong with that.

2LDK (2003)

Yukihiko Tsutsumi's 2LDK is the other film created for the Duel Project (mentioned in my review of Aragami (2003)).

For those not in the know, the term "2LDK" is Japanese realtor shorthand that applies to an apartment or a living space that has two multi-purpose rooms (serving as bedrooms or entertainment areas), a dining area and a kitchen.

As per the rules of the Duel Project, it is this apartment that will serve as the battleground for two of the most unlikely warriors in Japanese filmdom.

Nozomi (Eiko Koike) and Rana (Maho Nonami) are reluctant roommates and aspiring actresses.

Nozomi and Rana are also as different as night and day, and are as compatible as oil and water. Nozomi is your typical "country rube trying to make it big" story complete with additional emotional baggage while Rana is an accomplished studio whore looking for one last shot at greatness.

As it so happens, both ladies are up for the lead role in an upcoming film entitled, "Yakuza Wives."

No, I didn't just make that up.

It also turns out that the movie role isn't the only point of contention in the lives of these two women. They also share interest in the same man and as 2LDK winds along, tensions mount and eventually transform from catty verbal exchanges to all out friggin' war.

Like with any war, it's the little things that cause things to boil over. From those unsightly hairs left in the bathroom to spilt perfume to Rana using the last of Nozomi's shampoo without telling her, every minor irritation and transgression is yet another cobblestone on the road to hell.

And what a road it is. When conflict finally breaks out, it is as disturbing to behold as it is completely fucking hilarious, with action ranging from use of chainsaws, to drowining, to electrocution and yes...

Despite all of the hatred and violence, Tsutsumi finds a way to work in a scene where Rana and Nozomi kiss one another.

That's my kind of filmmaking, folks.

I found 2LDK to be a very interesting film thanks to what appeared to be Tsutsumi's remarkably keen understanding of the human psyche. Even though the hyperbole-rich 2LDK feels more like a Brothers Grimm-style terror fable than it does a microcosm of real life, it is dripping with insight into just how warped the human soul can become.

Nozomi and Rana aren't fighting because they see the other as an implacable enemy. They're doing it because they see the other as the proverbial "mirror darkly" that displays all of the loneliness, unrequited desire, and personal failure that they both desperately try to hide behind a glossy shell of either beauty or intellectual superiority.

These ladies are not terribly unlike Eihi Shiina's character in Takashi Miike's now iconic Audition (1999), masking complete batshit insanity with a near perfect public veneer of innocence and calm.

Given that glaring similarity, I'd love to sit down and chat with Tsutsumi or Miike some time and see if these respective films were created to creatively and indirectly address some greater societal ill without directly indicting Japanese culture as a whole (much in the manner that Pulse (aka Kairo) (2001) or Spirited Away (aka Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi) (2001) did), or if they did it just for the laughs and shock value.

2LDK certainly gets its point across, but its 70 minute runtime is too brief for my liking. While I don't think it's my place to tell an artist what his vision should be, I have to admit that I think that Tsutsumi was on the verge of creating a psychological thriller for the record books and I'm a little disappointed that it stopped just shy of that mark.

That being said, I hope that Tsutsumi will eventually return to this project and ponder over it a bit more, because there is certainly a lot more creative room to transform this from a haunting yet amusing short film into a dark epic that could put him on the worldwide cinematic map.

Under the Blossoming Cherry Trees (1975)

PLOT:

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When a mountain man (Lone Wolf and Cub’s Tomisaburo Wakayama) kills a man and steals his wife (Shima Iwashita), he bites off more than he can chew. Rather than being a submissive victim, the beautiful woman soon browbeats her murderous husband into total compliance, convincing him to murder all but one member of his harem of dirty mountain women. She soon becomes his wife, and convinces him to take her (and the one girl she spared, now a maid) to the capital, where the mountain man begins his new vocation: collecting heads for his wife, who uses them as props in her own personal melodramas. Soon, Wakayama (his character has no name) becomes a feared figure in the city, and his wife’s collection of heads grows and grows. But how long can it last?

REVIEW:

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Beauty and horror combine in equal measures in this mid-70s outing by Masahiro Shinoda. Under the Blossoming Cherry Trees begins with gorgeous images of cherry trees (you guessed it, blossoming) in a modern landscape. As people go about their day, and young voice tells us that it was once believed that those who walked under the blossoming cherry trees would lose their minds. And with that brief prelude, the film takes us back, into the past, where Wakayama attacks an entourage and takes by force the woman who will be his wife.

You can’t help but feel sorry for Wakayama, despite the fact that he plays a wild, unkempt, and murderous mountain man. In fact, there’s something cute about his rustic life, his shaggy looks, and the way his stocky little body sprints around the forest, causing mayhem. It’s a clear example of a bad character being made to look good by the presence of a truly evil character--in this case, his wife.


You know Wakayama is in for it almost immediately: when he tells his new wife that he’s abducting her, and taking her to his home, she makes him carry her. Surely, if he’s such a tough man, he can carry his wife up a mountain, right? And Wakayama, eager to show off his manliness, does just this, even though it entirely exhausts him. When he gets to his hovel, he introduces his new wife to six or seven others, which he’d probably accumulated in much the same way he got this new one. She asks him to kill them--all but one, to be her maid--and he does so. The mountain man clearly represents a sort of bestial, alpha male badness, but she represents something else altogether. Soon she henpecks him out of his comfort zone, forcing him to move to the capital. And then he is murdering for her, cutting off people’s heads so that his wife can put on bizarre, pornographic plays, with them as props.

Of only three main characters (the mountain man, his wife, and the maid), two are women, and they are both given strong, important roles. The maid, who has a crippled leg, is gentle, and acquiescent. She never complains, no matter how bizarre her new mistress is, and even though her sister-wives have recently been put to the sword by her former “husband.” But she is easily overshadowed by the wife, who is one of the most evil women in cinema.


And it’s worth commenting on her as an “evil woman,” and not just a woman who is evil, since her evil is directly tied to her gender. She entrances the mountain man with her beauty, and it is only by questioning his masculinity (and therefore acting as a woman questioning his status as a man). Once she begins collecting severed heads, it isn’t long before she incorporates them into her sex life, using them for all sorts of sexual degradations. It is her status as a woman--a beautiful, soul-sucking woman--that allows her to manipulate Wakayama as she does. So evil is she, it has to be wondered whether she’s a human at all.

Perhaps the wife is some sort of demon, or hungry ghost. It’s certainly a possibility. She seems strangely detached from the rest of the world--though she longs to leave his mountain cabin, when the mountain man takes her to the city, she remains indoors, hidden away with her grisly toys. Only the maid sees her, and perhaps her ready compliance to her mistress’s wants speaks to her awareness of her lady’s evil nature. Certainly this touch of the supernatural would not be out of place in a film where falling cherry blossoms are shown to drive people completely and utterly mad. And it is this madness, this mindless insanity, that the mountain man begins to crave, perhaps as the only escape from the trap that his wife has left him in.

Funeral Parade of Roses (1969)

Man, the 60s were weird all over. Toshio Matsumoto’s Funeral Parade of Roses is a strange artifact of that wild decade, a bizarre experimental film which is part document of the youth counterculture, part a stylistic tale of the life of a drag queen, and part retelling of the Oedipus myth. Weird all over.


Funeral Parade follows Eddie, a drag queen (played by Peter, who later went on to star as the fool in Kurosawa’s Ran) who works as a hostess in a gay bar and who is having an affair with the head queen’s lover. We follow Eddie as she works, loves, and plays in 60s Tokyo. Among her friends are a group of radical leftist “artists”; their leader is a man named Guevera, who wears a fake beard and mustache to look more like Che himself. I think he looks more like Jesus. Those who think of Japan as not just another country, but a whole other world, will be shocked to learn that their young leftists were just as idealistic and annoying as their US counterparts.

Eddie’s story, though, is really just there to form a narrative core to the film. Her affair, her struggles, and even her parallel to the mythical Oedipus, are all used to give some cohesiveness to the other elements of the film, which are Matsumoto’s main concern. That is to say that Funeral Parade is primarily a vehicle for Matsumoto’s experimental film making, and a way for the filmmaker to explore the 60s counterculture.


The film is able to cover a lot of aspects of Japanese society, and is largely able to do so by keeping those aspects in the background, or at least by dealing with them as part of the story rather than as blatant historic, non-fictional inserts. Eddie and her friends introduce us to the drag queen scene in Tokyo, which I can only imagine is a recently-outed portion of Japanese culture. As well, the filmmakers interview homosexuals in an open and honest manner, though treating them as a new and unexplored part of society. Occasionally the film features American military, reminding the viewer that this all takes place during the American occupation of Japan. Finally, through Eddie we are introduced to the aforementioned group or leftist radicals and hippies, the sort you’d expect to see in Berkley. It certainly surprised me to learn how similar to America Japan was back in 69.

Matsumoto’s experimental film making seems especially well-suited to the film. In another context the bizarre editing and strange, symbolic inserts might seem ostentatious and out of place, but here it seems that the form of the film matches its content. Documenting a chaotic story and a chaotic era demands a chaotic form, I think, and a straight-up narrative wouldn’t deliver this. Among Matsumoto’s most striking tricks are some occasional speed-ups (think the ménage à trois scene in A Clockwork Orange) to accentuate frenetic, wild action; breaking of the fourth wall, in which the actors are interviewed, documentary-style, and in which you actually get to see the crew filming the scenes; and, perhaps most successfully, an argument between Eddie and another queen which is done manga-style, with voice bubbles instead of spoken dialogue.


Eureka’s “Masters of Cinema” line--a kind of Criterion Collection for Britain, I think--has released a really swell edition of Funeral Parade of Roses, and the good news is that it’s NTSC rather than PAL, so it should work in most players (at least, that’s my experience). Funeral Parade of Roses sure ain’t for everyone, and I be lying if I said that all of its experiments were successful ones; however, for Japanese movie buffs or cinephiles, the allure of the film is its place as a historical document, as a weird and wild symbol of 60s counterculture and experimentalism.

Aragami (2003)

As the story goes, Yukihiko Tsutsumi and Ryûhei Kitamura each finished their personal contributions to a short film anthology entitled Jam Films (2002) in record time.

As a result, producer Shinya Kawai threw down a punk card to both directors.

Each was create (not just writing and filming, we're talking total completion) a feature length movie in less than ten days, with the optimum time frame being a week.

The film had to feature two primary antagonists, no more than three supporting characters, a static setting, and it had to conclude with a showdown between the two key players.

The undertaking was called the Duel Project.

Yukihiko Tsutsumi's final product was the film 2LDK (2003), which I will be reviewing in the near future for the Japanese Cinema Blogathon.

Kitamura-san's idea turned out to be an engaging piece of work called Aragami.

Aragami takes place arguably sometime during the latter part of the Bakumatsu; the final years of the Edo Period that signaled the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate.

The action picks up with a badly injured samurai (Takao Osawa) and his nearly dead companion (Hideo Sakaki) finding refuge from a brutal storm inside the walls of a mysterious temple. The companion dies, but the remaining samurai is miraculously nursed back to health by a powerful swordsman (Masaya Kato) and his female companion (Kanae Uotani).

Over the course of the evening, the swordsman engages the samurai in a rather profound dialogue with topics ranging from battle tactics to reincarnation. The swordsman even claims to have been the great Miyamoto Musashi in a former life.

The samurai responds with mild amusement that gradually evolves into outright jovial disbelief.

But this is no laughing matter. The swordsman in actuality is a kami; an immortal being whose sole purpose is to hone his martial prowess far beyond that of normal men and pit his skill against the skill of other fighters. However, the one thing that centuries of existence has taught the kami is that everlasting life isn't all that it's cracked up to be.

The samurai then discovers the reason that his life has been spared. The swordsman's greatest desire is to give up his immortality and pass his mantle on to a successor. But it is not a mantle that can be freely given.

It has to be earned in a duel to the death.

Like most people, my first experience with Kitamura-san's work was the oft-maligned but ridiculously enjoyable, Versus (2000). Aragami represents a dramatic departure from the over the top heroics of Versus and Kitamura's light-hearted and bloodsoaked ninja epic, Azumi (2003).

Aragami is a surprisingly mature film. Kitamura manages not only to show his reverence for the folklore of his homeland while simultaneously poking fun at it, but also accomplishes the impressive feat of creating an ever-growing web of tension by use of one of the strangest plot devices I've ever seen.

A philosophical discussion over a cup of tea.

Even more arresting is the fact that when you do the math, this film consists of only two fights in its 79 minute runtime.

The rest is pure dialogue, yet Aragami never seems to drag.

The progressively grave tone of the conversation is like a clock of armageddon ticking down to the time when the swordsman and the samurai will draw steel against one another and find out whom fate truly favors.

It really bums me out that Midnight Meat Train (2008) (a film I reviewed on this very blog) did rise to great prominance here in the US (Up yours, Lionsgate!), because Kitamura is a man that has a lot to offer not only to Japanese film, but film as a whole.

Hopefully the lack of mainstream success will not deter him from expanding his entertaining body of work. It is also my hope that some producer will find it in his heart to call out Kitamura's creative streak once more if this is the type of finished work we can expect from such a dare.

Bandits vs Samurai Squadron (Kumokiri Nizaemon) (1978)

PLOT:

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Wronged samurai turned crime boss Kumokiri Nizaemon (Tatsuya Nakadai) has assembled his rather large group of men for one final job, with which to cap off ten years of ruthless banditry: the hoodwinking and robbery of the district’s largest kimono wholesaler, Kichibei (Tetsuro Tamba). Unfortunately for Kumokiri and his band of thieves, they are being hotly hunted by an elite samurai squadron, led by Shikubu Abe (Shogoro Ichikawa), who are honour-bound to thwart them. Burglary, blood vendettas, and assassinations, all culminate in the sort of bloody showdown 70s samurai cinema is known for.

REVIEW:

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Prepare to be confused for at least 50 minutes. Hideo Gosha’s nearly 3 hour chambara starts with a bloody nighttime raid, without bothering to introduce the situation first. Who’s being raided? Who’s doing the raiding? These are the sort of questions that don’t get answered until nearly an hour has passed, at which point Kumokiri addresses his assembled bandits and explains what their last mission is going to be. This is first time it’s actually clear who, out of the film's many characters, are “bandits”--and it’s most of them. Suddenly the actions of these characters are a little easier to suss out. This scene is followed by another expository scene, in which a blind masseur (Jo Shishido) explains Kumokiri’s identity to Abe, telling him (and us) what we probably suspect: that Kumokiri isn’t just some schmuck thief, but a disgraced samurai. After those scenes, everything else falls into place. However, they’re a long time coming, and I can see a few people giving up in frustration around the 30 or 40 minute mark, when important things are clearly happening, yet you still don’t have enough information to process them.

If you're a fan of Gosha, or the genre, though, I'd suggest you struggle through. It really isn't as bad as I may make it sound, and it's worth sitting through it to see Kumokiri's plan unfold.


Anyway, anyone familiar with Gosha’s other movies should realize that, in a movie pitting bandit against samurai squadron, the director’s sympathies are going to be on the side of the bandits. Gosha doesn’t truck with samurai--at least, not the bushido-backing, honour-loving kind. Gosha’s (and the viewer’s) interest is clearly in Kumokiri and his band of merry men; however, the movie really fails to make a connection between the characters and the viewer. Part of it is because there are just so damn many characters; each one is only able to get a bit of screen time, making it difficult to develop a relationship with them. Even the character whom the movie is named after, Kumokiri, is fairly bland, but at least he’s played by Nakadai, so there’s something going on.

On top of all of that, the actual plot that Kumokiri and his men have hatched isn’t particularly interesting. Fans of heist films are going to be sorely disappointed that the big scheme merely involves one of the female bandits tricking Kichibei, the kimono merchant, into marrying her; once she’s done this, she need only locate his vaults and his keys, and the rest should be easy. Not exactly cloak and dagger stuff, but it is suitable enough to set up some late night raiding and some bloody sword fights, which is what you really want from the film in the first place.


That said, I’d hate to sound like I was ragging on the film, which I thoroughly enjoyed, despite it’s obvious weaknesses. I’m a sucker for bloody samurai action, and Bandits vs Samurai Squadron delivers that in spades. In fact, I should be clear: if you want a bloody sword fight movie, this is probably one of the best. The violence starts with the opening raid, and then the film is punctuated by action throughout, easing the viewer through its lengthy duration. Gosha has always been a good action director, and here it really comes through. The fights are quite visceral, with lots of physical damage being done to the surrounding environment. Geysers of violent red blood erupt out of those unlucky warriors who find themselves on the business end of a katana.

I’d be lying if I said that the acting was also top notch, but you get good, genre-style stuff. Nakadai is a great as always, and while he’s not cinema’s strongest swordsmen he’s still a guy that knows how to make a fight look interesting. It’s a pleasure to see chubby-cheeked Jo Shishido as well, even if his part is underdeveloped and brief. The women of Bandits vs Samurai Squadron are largely there to be pretty, and often topless, though they do get a chance to show off their acting chops. 70s era Gosha is a lot closer to grindhouse cinema than his 60s incarnation.


Bandits vs Samurai Squadron is a hell of a lot of fun, if you know what you’re getting yourself into. If you’re willing to sit back and wait for the film to start making sense, you’ll be treated to some great action scenes, my favourite being a rice-paddy duel between Kumokiri and the Samurai Squadron’s strongest swordsman. You’ll also be introduced (if you haven’t been already) to Gosha’s trademark pessimism--it isn’t much of a spoiler to say that no one is going to be riding happily off into the sunset in this one. Gosha would never allow it.

3 Seconds Before Explosion (1967)

PLOT:

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During WWII, a Japanese soldier helped himself to a pile of jewels, stolen from the Rabaley nation. Using these jewels, the soldier bought his way into a place of prominence within a large Japanese corporation. For whatever reason, the theft seems to have been undiscovered until shortly before the film begins; now, within a matter of days a statute of limitations will end, and Rabaley will forfeit their rightful ownership of the jewels to whoever happens to have them in their possession. Enter: a cartel of international jewel thieves, intent on lifting the jewels and keeping them for themselves. Enter: Yamawaki (Hideki Takahashi), a highly trained agent who left the government’s employ for love; he’s been hired by the corporation to keep the jewels safe. Enter: super spy Yabuki (Akira Kobayashi), tasked with saving the jewels for the Japanese government. What follows is a series of deceptions and gun fights, culminating in an all-out battle under the seafloor!

REVIEW:

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When you hear a high-pitched squeal coming out of your TV, you shouldn’t (like me) start cursing your apparently malfunctioning DVD. That whine is supposed to be there. It’s a torture, part of the rookie-ing process for Yabuki. It’s torture for the audience, too, but don’t worry, it soon goes away.

Tan Ida’s 3 Seconds Before Explosion is a harmless, fun schlock piece that doesn’t try to be more than it is. There’s nothing especially stylish or remarkable about it: it is what it is, and if you’re looking for 80 minutes of cheap action thrills, well, this will do suitably well. However, there are probably a few cheap rentals at the local video store that will do just as good, or better. Not that I want to damn the movie with faint praise--hey, I enjoyed it!--but it’s not something that can come highly recommended, except to those few people out there who consider themselves fans (or aficionados) of Japanese crime thrillers.


The plot of 3 Seconds Before Explosion is, as you have already seen, pretty ridiculous. Why does Rabaley’s ownership of its national jewels have an expiry date? More importantly, why do jewel thieves care so much about having the jewels when the expiration occurs? Presumably, being jewel thieves, they’d just steal them from whomever legitimately held them anyway. Oh well.

It doesn’t help that Yabuki’s brilliant scheme is to pretend to be a crooked reporter who wants a piece of the action, so he can infiltrate the jewel thief inner circle. This leads to lots of typical “can we trust him or can’t we?” stuff, which potentially gets in the way of this being a decent spy-type thriller. Throw in a few uninteresting female characters, for the sole purpose of having some uninteresting potential romances that go nowhere, and you can see that 3 Seconds Before Explosion is not the type of film to challenge convention. However, sometimes convention is there for a reason--you get that welcome familiarity of knowing what will happen next, and gleefully anticipating it, and that’s something.


Speaking of the women in 3 Seconds Before Explosion, I was surprised that almost all of them die. No sooner are most women introduced than they’re killed off, in some diabolical fashion. It would be fun to claim that this is making some sort of metatextual comment about the place of women within action films, but alas, this isn’t that film. This is the film that kills off all the female characters so they don’t get in the way of the men doing their thing.

There is some nice action in the film to keep things rolling along: gun battles, chases, you name it. In the end, the movie feels like an old crime flick you’d watch with your dad (or son, depending on your age) on TV during a Sunday afternoon--it might not be groundbreaking, but it’s satisfactory stuff. Still, I do wonder why Kino saw fit to release this and Detective Bureau 2-3 at the same time; it’s unlikely that either will garner a whole lot of interest outside of those few collectors who are already into this kind of things. Both are fairly bland offerings, though Detective Bureau 2-3 is clearly the superior film, due to Jo Shishido’s charm and Seijun Suzuki’s style. Like that DVD, 3 Seconds Before Explosion comes with two unsubbed previews for other Japanese crime thrillers. I can only recommend this to fans of the genre, or those interested in getting into it.

Detective Bureau 2-3: Go to Hell Bastards! (1963)

PLOT:

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Some new, unknown force is taking out the local yakuza gangs, and the police can’t figure it out. Only one man, Tajima (Jo Shishido) of Detective Bureau 2-3 can do it!

When Manabe, a member of the unknown yakuza, is taken into police custody, the entire yakuza underworld stakes out the police department, waiting for their chance to do away with the potential stool pigeon. Using his quick wit and charm, Tajima is able to secret Manabe away, safe and sound. Having duped Manabe into believing that he’s a low-level criminal (and not the brilliant head of Detective Bureau 2-3!), Tajima infiltrates the shadowy yakuza group. There, he faces distrusting gangsters and a few fairly blasé femme fatales. Of course, this shit can’t keep Tajima down; he even has enough time for a song and dance number.

REVIEW:

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Seijun Suzuki’s Detective Bureau 2-3: Go to Hell Bastards! isn’t just a movie with a great name, though, admittedly, the name is its strongest asset. The 1963 crime film stars frequent Suzuki collaborator Jo Shishido, a man who--would you believe it?--had cheek augmentation surgery to fill out his face. Bizarre. Anyway, the film is unabashedly self-aware, seemingly making light of its own nonsense. It’s colourful, and full of dancing, and Shishido doesn’t seem to be taking things too seriously. That’s probably for the best. Detective Bureau 2-3 is like an extended episode of the Adam West “Batman” show, except with a lot more gun fighting and male chauvinism.


The film provides a cookie-cutter plot: Tajima infiltrates the crime organization, but they don’t trust him, so he has to jump through a few hoops and charm their pants off. Along the way the boss’s girlfriend falls for him (but not he for her, obviously). She tells him that she’s a virgin with the heart of a whore, which is both a humorous inversion of genre stereotypes and a total jackpot for Tajima. Then the crooks get wise, which leads to a few shoot outs, and a finale involving an armaments-laden basement being filled with fuel and set ablaze. Only a daring escape will do.

Along the way, Tajima’s Detective Bureau 2-3 co-workers are there to provide (probably redundant) comedy relief, donning Sabotage-level disguises and hamming it up for the camera. Add a couple of flustered cops who can barely keep up with the wily Tajima, and you get the idea.


Helping you ignore the paper-thin plot of the film is an amazing jazz score that was probably already retro and campy when it was first composed. The music is a perfect background for Suzuki’s visual flare--the man was making films that looked like comic books come to life before Robert Rodriguez was born (and he certainly wasn’t so slavish about it). Detective Bureau 2-3 is light, popcorn-y stuff, and definitely a decent way to spend an hour and half, if nothing else.

The Kino International DVD is a solid-enough offering; the transfer isn’t perfect, but it’s nice and colourful. It comes with two, unsubtitled trailers, one for Cops vs Thugs, and another for Yakuza Graveyard. Since it's a surprise that a film like Detective Bureau 2-3 even gets to see the light of day in North America, one can hardly complain about the quality of the disc.

Reincarnation (aka Rinne) (2005)

You really have to admire Takeshi Shimizu. The bastard simply doesn't give up.

A while ago in my review of The Executioner (1974), I briefly rehashed the efforts of Teruo Ishii to sabotage his own career in martial arts movies in order to return to directing detective movies.

Such doesn't appear to be the case with Shimizu. It's been slightly over a decade since the rest of the world was single-handedly introduced to the onryō genre via a gentleman named Hideo Nakata.

He directed a little film called Ring (1998) that some of you out there might remember.

Since then, the onryō genre has nearly been done to death in Japan, as well as Korea and the United States. Despite all of this, Shimizu still manages to find ways to add new spin to the angry ghost formula, find pleasure in his work, and smile all the way to the bank.

Rinne seems to draw inspiration from everything from Stephen King's The Shining, to Wes Craven's New Nightmare (1994), and damn near every onryō movie before it.

Onryō movies aren't onryō movies if there is no sinister foreplot, so Shimizu sets the stage for Act I by placing us smack dab near the end of a spree killing taking place in a creepy hotel committed by an unhinged college professor named Kazuya Omori (Shun Oguri).

Omori's psychotic bloodlust claims eleven victims including his own daughter and in the usual fashion, Omori tops the incident off by taking his own life.

We then flash forward in time about fourty years. To our dread, we discover that famed and fictional movie director, Ikuo Matsumura (Kippei Shiina), feels inspired to create a dramatic horror-mentary (for lack of an equivelent term) of the murders so that the memories of the victims won't be lost in time.

A matter of further concern is that Matusumura wants to film this project at the very hotel where the slayings took place took place.

I don't think Mr. Matsumura could've had a worse idea in his head if he tried.

As the first day of the film shoot draws near, Nagisa Sugiura (Yuka), the actress set to play Omori's daughter in the film within this film, begins to have strange visions.

These visions turn out to be yurei; spirits who find themselves tasked to warn us when something awful is about to happen in the realm of the living. This particular group of yurei is (not surprisingly) composed of the eleven victims of Omori's hotel massacre.

For Nagisa and the rest of Matsumura's film crew, something wicked this way comes.

Some people may remember Rinne as one of the members of the After Dark Horrorfest Class of 2006, or one of three film that were actually worth dying for out of the original "8 Films (allegedly) Worth Dying For."

(The others being The Abandoned (2006) and the mildly spooky The Gravedancers (2006))

Rinne is a breath of fresh air in an otherwise overdone genre as it seamlessly interweaves a mystery story within a traditional ghost story not terribly unlike Guillermo del Toro's supernatural epic, The Devil's Backbone (2001), but without the stinging social commentary.

Rinne has no aspirations other than being an entertaining film and it succeeds at that rather handily.

Those with a steady diet of J-Horror will probably see the plot twists coming a mile away, but the last fifteen minutes of this film will have even seasoned (and probably jaded) horror buffs admiring the story progression and saying, "Oh shit, I didn't expect that to happen!"

To explain any more or go into further detail really would ruin the rather clever hooks that this movie will sink into your nerve endings, so I enthusiatically urge anyone reading this blog to check out this movie if they haven't already done so.

Shimizu really does do a lot more with a lot less, so perhaps it is indeed true what they say about big budgets being a negative catalyst when it comes to Asian horror?

(or horror in general, after viewing the awesomeness of Sam Raimi's shoestring budget epic Drag Me To Hell (2009) last weekend.)

The contrast between a movie like this and the Hollywood re-imagings of the various Ring movies certainly do seem to indicate that it is nigh impossible to focus on the subtle when your current film budget nearly dwarfs the combined budgets of your entire catalogue of previous work.