Tsukamoto Revisited: GEMINI (1999) A Prophet Goes Mainstream

As previously mentioned, the filmed works of Shinya Tsukamoto are by and large concerned with the paradoxical nature of the "successful" japanese person, versus their innermost selves who are seemingly being dragged behind. So when given the chance to explore this conflict with a slightly larger budget than ever before, his first foray into vibrant color is ironically set in the days prior to the advent. Loosely based upon a tale by the legendary Edogawa Rampo, GEMINI tells the story of Meiji era doctor Yukio Daitokuji (Masahiro Motoki), and his growing divide between his devotion to his practice, and to the powerful of the community. Seemingly unfazed by pride and disdain for those lesser in social stature, his charmed life as an heir to a respected physician is suddenly made hell by way of a malevolent doppelganger. And all the while, the mystery behind his beautiful amnesiac wife (Ryo) finds itself key to the storm. His denying of the poor as plague threatens to harm all throughout the region summons up secrets thought to have been buried in the name of the doctor's success. And as matters spiral, it becomes clear that the worlds of Rampo and Tsukamoto might very well be cut from the same cloth.


His world shattered, and now cast out of his own home, the doctor comes to the revelation that this double is vying for his wife, and with possible good reason. While languishing for a return to his life from the bottom of a long abandoned well, Daitokuji must not only contend with a double hellbent on usurping his life as a Tokyo doctor and husband, but of some truly disturbing facts about the world he and his family struggled to create. Beginning with a bizarre stench that begins to hover over his practice, and eventually the death of his secret-bearing parents, the doctor's place in the nature of community is placed headlong into a funhouse of mirrors scenario where nature was never far from reclaiming what pride had sought to cut away. 


The mystery and fury behind the tale feels very much like a tailor-made prequel to Tsukamoto's film output. His direct phrasing regarding Daitokuji and his relationship with his wife is a perfect seed for the cybernetic nightmares to come in the 1990s. We are given time to take in the growing divide occurring between the rich and poor, and the attitudes that pervade. Just enough to imply that Rin has the outsider's view, which plays heavily into the disruptions that begin to avalanche over the course of the story. Tsukamoto takes great advantage of playing with time and perspective without much of the hard-edged experimentation of his earlier films. And even so, his trademark handheld imagery and post film ADR work keeps matters feeling that indie aura. Especially unique to this period, is the lush color work which was a bold move. As if the world were a more lively place before greed and entitlement overtook the land, bleeding the color out. Acted as if part of an old world play, the broad gestures of Motoki, Ryo, Tadanobu Asano, and the rest of the cast embody the colorful landscape of the film in the spirit of a nightmarish traveling band of performers not unlike the circus we experience within the story. Tsukamoto understands his roots. And considering the release year (amidst the burgeoning J-Horror boom), there certainly was a yearning for implanting an origin story for contemporary terrors.

And judging from GEMINI, that terror is part and parcel with humankind.  

Tsukamoto Revisited: Bullet Ballet (1998) An Astonishing Point Of Metamorphosis

It is never easy to make the leap from the more artistically flexible world of no-budget filmmaking, and into the slick and often more hobbled sheen of mainstream cinema without losing a bit of the initial authorial spark in the process. Once such a transition happens, it often becomes less about the personal voice, and more about maintaining accounts and studio credibility. And when this happens, certain story molds are often adopted in the name of playing matters toward viewers less accustomed to an auteur's vision. If global cinema still has a lively community of independent-minded creators with an extended pinky toe in the mainstream, one has to include Shinya Tsukamoto amongst this rabble. And despite his being a voice that has seen some truly commercial cul-de-sacs, it has often been one to never stray terribly far from his initial, almost home-made texture. Whether it be via the generous and handsome use of handheld, hyperkinetic editing, and largely non-diegetic audio, a few seconds in, and one can almost feel that the characters of TETSUO are never truly far away from the current story we are witnessing.

So when we delve back in time, and seek out the point when this voice made its first leap into classically linear storytelling, we inevitably come to Bullet Ballet. Shot on his still go-to-black and white, and adorned with much of what made TETSUO and Tokyo Fist so aesthetically troubling, Ballet injects a most unexpected mass of humanity where much had been missing by design previously. Part coming-of-age story, part recession-era ball of existentialism, Ballet paints a stark vision of urban loneliness without the meandering dialogue, or navel-gazing often known to bog many a similar piece down. By contrast, Tsukamoto employs the best of his already established arsenal to weave a tale where the young and the old find themselves at a spiritual impasse, often with bittersweet epiphanies illustrated by their actions.


Successful commercial director, Goda suddenly arrives home to discover his wife dead by apparent gunshot to the head. Shocked enough at the loss, let alone the means (he explains to authorities that they never owned, let alone possessed a firearm), he is suddenly enamored with the idea of seeking such a weapon in one of the most gun strict cultures imaginable. Throughout what seems to be a desperate quest to end his life upon said acquisition, he run across a gang of daredevil youths seemingly experiencing a similar turning point. Particularly in the guise of  the wayward Chisato (Kirina Mano) , who seems to resonate with the death-tripping Goda. All sides flirting with an avalanche of change that seems programmed to consume them all, the establishment and the restless find themselves in near rhythmic syncopation.

One of the most impressive things that Tsukamoto advances into a more dramatic structure, is a very raw sense of desolation as our characters seek a means to escape their concrete cages. So much of the film's visual architecture is pure walled, wet, neon drenched, and artifice. It's to such a degree, that it envelops the cast into this realm where sunlight is more incidental, and much less assuring. Even as Goda and company wander the Tokyo cityscape, there is a feeling of near suffocation that ultimately compliments their often irrational behavior. Even as they run across an entire world of seedy characters, undocumented denizens, lowlives, killers, and weirdos, it all feels like Tsukamoto is not reveling in this world in ways that other directors do. It becomes clear that many are this way because of their surroundings. It even goes so far as to imply that the only reason why Goda is reacting the way he is, is because of this ingrained need to fulfill the obligations of the collective- without asking the soul first.

Throughout his near nightly jags of considering death, it is the words of his lost love that haunts. Especially when they agreed to society's narrative over their own individual ones.

In flashbacks and by way of his encounters with Chisato and her friends, we are host to a system long in the function, but low on the self-reflection. So when violence by way of technology comes into play as a solution, it's easy to see how such a curse seems to have been woven into the Japanese experience post-WWII. Tsukamoto and company are viscerally taking on the detritus of the previous generation, and somehow finding beauty within it all. Even as development and technology begins to show signs of decay and scarification, the 1990s as a decade presented this opportunity in ways that perhaps have been covered up by means of mobile device culture, and a growing disconnect between individuals rather than groups. Because if even Goda could find some manner of future beyond his loss, it is all about roaming the landscape, never sure if salvation is right around the corner.  


Because destruction is nearly a lead-in to other realities, Tsukamoto seems to be implying. Whether it be via a bullet or nuclear blast, those left behind must still reassemble futures.

Nothing, is ever truly over.

Re: Mike Hama - The Trap (Wana, 1996)

Flash forward a while after the tumultuous events at the end of Stairway To The Distant Past, and it seems like good ol' Mike Hama's worries are a thing of the past. Yokohama's chinpira boy scout has had himself one heck of a run as of late. Not only does his business seems to have revived in a big way with a more than ample client list, his sister is entering college at last, and to top it off, the stylish sleuth has himself a girlfriend! And yet despite all of this fortune, things also couldn't seem more forboding in this, Hayashi's unexpectedly dour finale to his one of a kind postmodern trilogy where Hama's entire world is on the brink of being torn asunder by a most sinister force.

Hama is now at a point in his fledgling career that he finds himself able to turn down jobs if he sees fit. And after he turns down a most eerie visitor with a bizarre request, matters soon take on terrible implications as his name and reputation come at odds with his success. It is to the point that unlike previous scrapes with gangs and politicians, it is the most unseen of the city that bring about the worst of our hero's troubles. Even as local police are stymied by not only shabby work, but in falsified evidence, bodies are piling up with a nasty M.O., and shows no signs of ceasing. What's a Yokohama private eye with a checkered past to do?

Kaizo Hayashi and writer Daisuke Tengan return for one last cinematic go-round foregoes the often lighthearted tones of the previous installments' first thirds, and stares (almost a bit too deeply) into a spiritual abyss as their characters are faced with adversaries that are nowhere near as transparent as the hoods of the past. As they conspire to make Hama's life into a living nightmare, it is also apparent that they may not even be cognizant enough to carry through beyond a neverending search for a mother figure to suite their needs. That's right, psychosis is at the very center of this episode's plotline, and while it indeed makes for an interesting swerve for the series, it ultimately never feels natural to the entire world Hayashi & Tengan have created. They have allowed real life events to seep into the mythos, which indeed has its effective moments. The problem here is that like so many psycho-thrillers of the past, it takes a very generalized slant by creating villains that are in no way endearing, but definitely worthy of more complexity. So what Wana ends up being, is a wacky detective tale hijacked by an overall lack of foresight, and possibly hope.

Almost humourously enough, a lot of what is happening to our plucku protagonist can be paraphrased in his newly flowering relationship with the virtually-mute, Yuriko(Yui Natsukawa). As lucky a guy as Maiku is, Yuriko, happens to be a deeply devoted christian, and ready to make a good, honest boy out of him. She disapproves of his gambling, drinking, and just about every other thing that makes him the likeable scamp he is. The entire piece plays up the notion that Hama's luck is double-sided. For all the good things happening, it is at the price of things innately alien to his being. And this also plays heavily into the more serious implications throughout the remaining running time. Where this goes wrong, is in how disproportionate it all is. When we see how heavy things can get, it borders on overbearing.

Tone-wise, Wana is easily the series' most hazy as the story attempts to infuse bit of the trademark humor alongside the really dark material that threatens to derail the entire affair. To a certain extent, the whole thing flirts heavily with a lot of what would eventually become associated with the J-horror boom of the latter end of the decade. Tengan's script definitely shares many quiet, creepy scenes that almost hint at his work with Takashi Miike. The film's tone also seems to play out commisurate with Japan's overall weariness in the days of 1995, after several months of disaster as evidenced by Shishido in a scene. A final chapter almost subsumed by tragedy, Hama's theatrical swan song is akin to skirting the fringes of nostalgia, while simultaneously being sucked into a black hole borne of a day where domestic terrors were far too powerful.

Re: Mike Hama - Stairway To The Distant Past (1995)

Not too long after a certain Most Terrible Time, young private eye Mike Hama is hurting for cash, and is taking whatever jobs come his way. Things have been so dry that he has even taken to seeking lost dogs with a net on the street in hopes of helping him and his sister survive. That is until fate intervenes in the form of a long lost parent, as well as some truly nasty intrigue plaguing the Yokohama harbor. Bad luck streak aside, things are about to spiral out of control once again for our hapless sleuth. Bursting with color as promised by the original case's finale, Stairway To The Distant Past gets personal as Masatoshi Nagase's likeable individualist must contend with trouble from all sides while director Keizo Hayashi mostly sticks the landing in this second Hama feature.



Not content with merely handing Hama just another missing person case, in this go-round, people seem to be pouring out of the walls to complicate his life. Boating into Yokohama as the sakura is in full bloom, is Mike & Akane's eternally youthful showgirl of a mother(Haruko Wanibuchi). Eager to re-establish some form of connection with her son who isn't having any of this, she also signals the coming of a local gangland legend (Eiji Okada) who's very presence attracts all manner of bad attention. All of this while crooked politician, Kanno's plans for the city go from seedy to desperate. For a film with such a loaded series of plotlines, Hayashi's direction this time around is perhaps informed by the addition of color which offers up a number of almost hypnotic sequences, often giving the whole affair more of a disjointed slow burn effect.



Undoubtedly feeling tasked to heap on the visuals as the final minutes of Most Terrible Time promised a small-scale Technicolor spectacle, Hayashi does dole out some more than welcome grandness to the proceedings. There are terrific looking scenes including a memorable entrance for the film's unusual heavy as lights cut through the dark of the harbor at night, and there are some lovely images that further make Yokohama into a troubled, yet lovely looking place that seems frozen in time. To further emphasize the dramatics, there are also a decent number of stylized sets that couldn't be done the last time around. The palette has been expanded, now if only the scripting by returning Daisuke Tengan & Hayashi could find a way to make the storytelling just as sweeping. Because for all it's colorful wonders, Stairway kind of flounders. Far more content to play with new toys than to tell a compelling narrative.



Which is in no way a means of saying that this Hama adventure is worth a skip. Quite the opposite. It remains a bittersweet and borderline surreal chapter to the series that carries with it some timely (for the mid 1990s) humor, and even some interesting insights into the beginning of a generation, uncertain of its role with its forbears, not to mention less so about a foggy future. Should come as no surprise that dreams of an opulent past would find themselves flirting with the present. But what Hama and friends learn here, is that even the past is painted in troubled colors.

Re: Mike Hama- The Most Terrible Time In My Life (1994)

Residing in a small office above the Nichigeki Cinescope in Yokohama, young private eye, Mike Hama (Masatoshi Nagase) has long been known in the area as the guy to go to when seeking out missing family members, pets, and the like. His goals are simple, live the life of a freelance seeker for hire, and raise the money for his teenage sister's(Mika Ohmine) college expenses. So when he meets a young Chinese waiter in search of his long-lost brother, matters are complicated by the revelation that this case is far more steeped in the town's nastier elements than Mike and his local buddies are ready to handle. No, this is not your granddad's dingy black and white crime saga. Existing within a 1990s dream of detective dramas of old, the initial entry in this one of a kind trilogy oozes with love for the classics with a sly comic edge. This is the wacky and violent world of Mike Hama.


Even as Hama's dogged lo-fi approach to detective work carries with it a welcoming aversion to prejudice, what lies ahead for him borders on spiraling headlong into Japan's growing fear of becoming a melting pot. It is soon after better getting to know the seemingly innocent Yang (Yang Hai Tin), it is revealed that his brother is in deep with a violent gang known as "The New Japs", that the unflappable sleuth (and the film) finds himself in something increasingly grim & desperate. With Yang's brother now fixed to be a prime mover in a newly growing underworld, and nothing quite being what they seem, it is up to Hama and buddies to at the very least, minimize the damage. Something that becomes an important distinction for the Hama trilogy; each film begins with a breezy, almost cartoonish tone, only to plummet into some truly bleak territory.



Even as a lot of what Hama and pals do regularly is almost reminiscent of say Tora-san, or even Lupin III to a degree, it is often a sleight of hand that underlies a shadier side just waiting around the edges.  We see Hama spend time with many of his local informant friends, and local business owners just happy to see him, and often oblige with some of his more questionable requests. And it's because Hama is by and large a cool, nice guy. But once we meet his great mentor in Joe (Played to tough guy perfection by the great Jo Shishido), we are made privy to a nastier delinquent past. One could almost see Hama as a sort of Robin-type; ready to do right, but prone to explosive violence once the pressure gets to be too much. It is this dynamic that is played at subtly, but also serves to not merely threaten the bad guys, but what remains of his family, and his more welcoming self. Nagase embodies this with just the right balance of sweetness, and almost uncontrollable menace.



The first of three Hama projects he worked on (the third not being the final feature "The Trap"), director Kaizo Hayashi lovingly turns mid-1990s Yokohama into a place half embraced by shadow, and caressed by smooth lighting provided by DP Yuchi Nagata. The entire world of Hama, is that of a moviehead's subsconscious not unlike the more flamboyant worlds of one Quentin Tarantino. Even as the world clearly contains items and apocrypha commisurate with the stark worlds of film noir, the film never shies away from making it clear that we are very much within the latter days of more direct, pre-digital communication. Hama may drive an absurd classic car, but so much of his work requires demanding amounts of door to door. Very real locations highlight much of his city's charms. And again, much like Hama's home, it is a world glossed in often gaudy charm, housing within it a troubled core.

So yes, much of the initial Maiku Kama outing is more about style than substance. And Keizo Hayashi adds quite a bit of warmth, regardless of how borderline melodramatic Daisuke Tengan's script gets. Big nods go to indie maverick, Shinya Tsumamoto who plays the film's scary toady, Yamaguchi, which brings to mind many of Kinji Fukasaku's most famous knife-wielding baddies. And because Hama is nothing like his american inspiraton, the jeopardy is thick despite the limitations of budget. The Most Terrible Time In My Life is at times a truly joyful hug to generations of detective stories that continues to deserve more eyes.