The Memory Lagoon: Full Metal Gokudo (1997)

Oh, that Takashi Miike.

Every time I go back to his early works, my relationship with him grows more complicated and admittedly  strained. And with his now long-legendary streak of flirting with almost mercenary mainstream success, looking back at his often schizophrenic V-cinema days only highlights at why cult film fandom zeroed in on him so intensely. With his often languid, pacing, and clear budgetary limitations, what tends to get praised about the outsider auteur is laid out for all to see with his fifteenth feature, Full Metal Gokudo (aka- Full Metal Yakuza). And yet as this is done in largely cheeky, tonally whacked fashion, it's in the details that this straight-to-video effort takes parody, and grinds it headlong into walls of sobriety without taking a breath. And while it doesn't work for me the same way it did nearly fifteen years ago, there's enough here for fans of the odd to consider.

When young yakuza flunkie, Kensuke Hagane is murdered alongside his admired leader, Tosa (Takeshi Ceasar), his body is sold and rebuilt as a heroic machine by an insane robotics professor. Taught that his past life was mere prelude to this new one as a champion of justice, Hagane foresakes his resurrector in hopes of exacting revenge on the gang members who betrayed him and Tosa. Now no longer the incapable loan shark, and ladies man, Hagane is on a quest to know the truth (especially now that his body has been combined with parts of his powerful - and well-endowed inspiration), and finds that vengeance has its price. This description alone doesn't describe the feelings this recent screening evoked. Entire generations of yakuza and even chanbara are paid homage, and ultimately broken by Miike's unwillingness to play it safe. And considering the limitations of the home video film market (which largely works with budgets well below 500,000 US american), it's a miracle a film with this manner of oddness can come through with just enough emotional punch to make it work.

And while problems do persist in the pacing department, and the effects are decent to flat-out awful, what makes Gokudo so strangely charming is in how it never seems resolute in being one type of story. Much like a stream-of-consciousness porn film, there's an almost improvisational quality here that lends to uneasiness that becomes hard to stomach by the largely queasy finale. And yet it's all quite true to the yakuza dramas of yesterday. Miike never lets us forget how silly this all is, yet never succumbs to the kinetic overkill of ironic tokusatsu horror that saturated and defined the Sushi Typhoon lineup a decade later. Tsuyoshi Ujiki's robo Hagane, is played for giggles, and yet a tragic element remains when he exposes his back to his adversaries. Their lost leader's tattoo now back to haunt them on the body of another, once thought useless errand boy.   

Also worth noting, is this theme of "combining" with your "Big Brother", which is something that Miike has explored in other places. There are elements here that smack heavily of his Dead Or Alive series, not to mention his gonzo epic, IZO. But the idea of young, incapable upstart, trading places (and often literally forms) with an admired leader. Taking not only the visage of your alpha counterpart, but the affections of their beloved as well. In this case, it is in the form of Yukari (played by Shoko Nakahara), who finds connection with Hagane, but cannot be due to his unique circumstances. Where this theme is played for squirm-inducing sexual satire in Gozu, here is done on that level and more. While the repressed sexual elements are indeed here, it must remain true to its classic yakuza roots complete with romantic tragedy complete with single swordsman against a virtual army of gangster soldiers.

So after this viewing, it came clear that it's alright to not completely excuse Miike's occasionally rocky results. And that perhaps it was this very unique voice that made for a more interesting cinema landscape toward the end of the twentieth century. It certainly was a bland time. One in dire need of some adventure. So he came about in the international scene in just the right time. Despite this, there is something happily outsider about his works that ring true in ways that even the most straight story cannot capture. Sure, Tomorowo Taguchi's mad scientist feels made up on the fly. But that plays well into the no-budget, no time playbook that is V-Cinema. In such a savage filmmaker's world, one has to film or die. And the end results are rarely clear or profound. At best, it can be merely fascinating just to see all that resourcefulness just fly.

While not "good" in any classical qualitative sense, there is no doubt that Miike's approach to whatever lands on his plate is freeing in rare and often telling ways. Even if it means kicking a gangster boss's head across town.

R100 (2013) Movie Review

Picture if you will, a reality-based game where you can experience the fantasy of being dominated by powerful women at odd hours of the day for a year. Who can appear anywhere, at any time, and can brighten your troubled soul with a hit or a lash. But what if this contract's rules only exacerbate over time, as those you love are destined to stumble upon this secret life of yours? Quietly suffering salesman, Takafumi Katayama(the ever guileless Nao Omori) is such a customer, and there isn't a safe word to be found. Upon first being reminded of Hitoshi Matsumoto's first film since his goofy, but admirable Big Man Japan, the ad campaign seemed hellbent on selling us something primed to shock & illuminate. What we get is R100, which sees the director as declarateur, extolling the virtues of perverse art and performance as a means of quelling the restless Japanese man's heart. And while it does offer up shades of the former, the latter finds itself more than a little parched.


Raising a young son, often with care from his kindhearted father, Katayama's entry into a world of unpredictable beatings and humiliations starts off with a tremendously amusing opening from the perspective of a statuesque beauty seemingly ending a date with a kick to the face. This scene alone establishes a potent mixture of black comedy in ways that is both familiar to those who are fans of Takashi Miike (of which Omori, is a seasoned veteran), and even to the films of David Fincher. It's an audacious start to a piece that doesn't want to play by any real rules, but never figures itself out. And despite the potential inherent in this opening moment, we are also introduced to one of the film's great weaknesses. We find that Katayama is in dire need, being a largely absent dad with a wife in a coma, lying to his little one about when she will be back home. But even so, what we do discover seems to be scant, and as the film skeeters toward the dramatic, gags come back to the fore, robbing us of any real tension. Sure, we get flashes of his normal life before black clad beauties burst onto the scene to terrorize him ad-infinitum, but the balance simply isn't there. There is a real need to get into the discomfort of the mundane before the outrageous will have its way with him, and it never really happens. There is an implication of the coming collision course, but being too caught up in visualizing Katayama's euphoric states (which is done in creepy CG-enhanced smiles) ends up creating a numbing effect of sorts.


And the license doesn't stop there. The film ultimately breaks into intendedly humorous non-sequitirs, portraying Omori as himself, trying to explain the film to censors about the story they are watching. A move that could easily have added dimension ends up floundering like a laundry list of justifications for the film's very existence. With Omori, head bowed down in embarrassment, hoping the company men would overlook these acts as the musings of a centenarian filmmaker. It's hard to imagine this sequence of scenes being in the script stage. There is a certain lack of confidence that laces the affair, as if it knows matters aren't working, and they do little to undo what's already a strange dance of tones. So perhaps only a one hundred year old Japanese man would understand, but what of everyone else? The rest of the film winds up feeling like a private joke, unwilling to let anyone else in who is not so nonplussed by so-called "extreme Japan" art.


And a large reason for this feeling of discontent, is the array of promise that Matsumoto and company dish out. From Omori's melancholic performance as a hapless salaryman, only wishing to do right, to great appearances by Gin Maeda, and a surprising Atsuro Watabe(of Love Exposure fame). The refreshingly old school feel of the film's color palette of decaying grays, greens, and ambers bring out a sad grain that evokes the most forbidden thoughts of a generation gone by the wayside. Even Matsumoto's appearance as a powerless, ignorant cop offers up brightness in a work so eager for even levity. And despite the film's inevitable descent into pure anarchistic weird, it's something that none of these shining lights can do to take it over the top. It perhaps doesn't help matters that so much Japanese media flirts with the inherently perverse, that a film like this needs a special touch to make it connect. So when a piece like this takes us through a rabbit hole of kink and circumstance, the discomfort levels need to be amped up significantly. There is something potentially profound to be examined within Matsumoto's thesis, but when the public beatings and encroaching doom gathers steam, there is an immense lack of milking the merge for all its worth that hinders everything. 

Giant Space Monster Dogora (1964) Movie Thoughts

Light and fluffy diamond caper? Fantasy film with an identity crisis? Or Ishiro Honda just milking the best out of a sorry excuse for a vacation? It's the kind of juggling act my mind performs while watching this mid-1960s offering by the kaiju master himself. More of an attempt by Toho to stretch a little outside the by-then familiar landscape of giant monsters and modeled mayhem, we have what is a mostly weird affair involving jewel thieves, the able police in hot pursuit, and a wily westerner as a mineral-hungry alien menace threatens to usurp the earth of its precious resources. Even as the opening scenes grant us promise of invasion by massive crystalline blue jellyfish, a great deal of the film's running time is centered on a chase for stolen diamonds. And as both films seemed destined to collide in some important manner, one may assume that Honda and Co. have under their sleeves a thematic sucker punch lying in wait. But sadly, this is something that never comes halfway to fruition as Dogora flounders about in search of a cohesive whole. And yet despite all this, there is a sweet attempt at making something totally unusual for the often workhorsed Honda that allows the final product to feel like a mild departure.



Not content with calling it Diamond Eating Space Squids, Dogora kind of fails to come through on nearly all it offers(but not without being a peek at something the celebrated monster filmmaker seemed eager to explore). As a japanese satellite is destroyed in orbit by a glowing blue alien force, a local chapter of organized diamond thieves find themselves at the center of an aggressive investigation. Both antagonists seemingly driven by a lust for nature's jewels, the conflicts on both land and space inevitably converge as scientists and police find themselves increasingly in over their heads.



As head Inspector Kommei (Yosuke Natsuki) and team find themselves inching closer towards understanding a bungled heist, he is almost continuously foiled by foreign interloper, Mark Jackson(played to fun effect by Robert Dunham, who seemed primed to get this character off the ground, and into a series of Jackson adventures that never happened), a mysterious, seeming thief with hidden plans and a wily disposition. While a great deal of the film touts the appearance of some truly unique alien effects and the requisite Eiji Tsuburaya magic complete with terrific model work and panicking crowds, the majority of the film is earthbound, with Kommei, and Jackson often butting heads against each other as they take on the diamond thieving gangsters. And while we do get some mild idea of what makes the gangsters tick, we never gain much of anything about the aliens enough to be compelled by any of that half of this particular mix.



On the whole, Honda and crew seem to be having a great deal of fun at least tinkering with genre outside the usual. There is even a scene here that evokes thoughts of some of the more zany early Bond adventures. Colorful and ready to take on a more caper tale, Dogora feels hobbled by a need to be this lumbering two-headed beast with little or no core focus. While one can see the eerie floating invertebrate giants in the sky as a metaphor for foreign interests, delving too greedily in the resources of other nations, it is often undermined by the film's greater lack of equilibrium. The creatures are well presented, but to what aim? As a result, the final product is this occasionally enjoyable, but ultimately minor entry in the career of one of the defining voices of monster cinema.

So in all, this space invader saga is a bit of a dud. A real shame, too as it does boast some fun images, characters and ideas. Perhaps a project that required more time to cook in the development, Dogora is Saturday matinee fodder that plays not unlike a trailer that goes on and on, never settling on a main hook or tag line. Had Honda and crew been granted a full chance to take on a more down to earth caper film, it is possible that we could have more than just a curious footnote. But alas.. 

Otaku Love Hurts: Cyborg, She Responded(2008) & Fujoshi Kanojo(2009)

Not sure how these films got lost in such a shuffle, but Sundays, when not steeped in projects of an outdoor nature, are often exercises in reaching back into old queues, only to realize why they stay buried as long as they do. And when this is regarding so-called romantic comedies tailor made to play to Japan's anime/manga loving crowd, it is also no wonder why recent fare like Pacific Rim feels like such fresh air. In lieu of the last decade's shift in production styling & attitude, it never ceases to amaze and dismay, the sheer lack of deep love and care that goes into such works. It is almost as if there is a quota to make, and appeasing certain interests are the only thing on the minds of all involved, and that a sincere love for the often wacky flights of fancy that Nihon-based scribbles can only deliver is lacking in a big way when talking the movie industry overseas. In the decades after a live action Video Girl Ai did plenty to offer just as much manga-esque silliness with a grounded charm that is endemic to a more universal language of filmic storytelling, it's kind of strange to see these contemporary tales of young love flat out miss any potentially healthy/thoughtful message that at times can happen in the funny pages. As both films feature young men in love with a mysterious, often exaggerated other, there's a troubling thread of crippling normalization that is happening, often in forced manners that not only speak to long held traditions in their native land, but of corporate message maintenance.


Starting with 2008's Cyborg, She Responded, we are in an impressively budgeted fantasy offering up the ultimate rendition of the so-called emotionless heroine (in this case, a Terminator-esque time traveling humanoid) and her relationship with a lonely otaku. (another thread that binds both films we are discussing together) Helmed by Kwak Jae-yong of My Sassy Girl fame, the story begins briskly as our lone protagonist, Jiro (Keisuke Koide) celebrates his birthday alone, purchasing his annual present to himself when he is reminded of the previous year when he encountered a most unusual, nameless girl(Haruka Ayase). Taken on a whirlwind chase around town, the seemingly free spirited girl ends the night not only blowing his mind with her antics, but just as simply vanishes from his life. Now merely a memory, things only accelerate into weird when an identical girl makes a grand entrance into the city, only to claim that she is a cyborg from the future, here to help Jiro avoid an impending disaster. Fortified with frightening reflexes, bizarre weaponry, and immense strength, Jiro's new bodyguard becomes something from dream girl to nuisance, to dream girl as the film strains to justify a man's attraction to simulacra. And while the film does want very much to be as much an action film as a love story, Jae-yong never seems capable of finding an amiable balance. Even when the script insists that the answers lie in oh-so-gimmicky time travel, there never seems to be any good reason for both characters to even like each other.


It becomes such a muddle, that one must inevitably give up and just drink in the occasionally amusing gags Jae-yong and crew must have had fun executing with our leads. Wish to see a lithe beauty trounce a couple of street punks up and down an alley? Check. Wish to see her tip over a bus full of commuters with her immensely heavy chassis? Check. Wish to see her take out desperate hostage takers and psychos, all while tending to a wet paper thin excuse for a romantic arc? Or how about an "ironic" gag involving a robot doing "The Robot" in a club scene? Check, check, check. The film is eager to please, but also seems so eager to be as much a somber tale of fated love, as well as an asian take on Reitman's My Super Ex-Girlfriend. The scripting and tone of the finished product reeks of stumbling in the development department, which only makes the emotional core all the more perplexing. In the end, it becomes pretty hard to discern just what the film wants to say. And considering the impressive production on display, it all boils down to a zero sum game with super-jokes.

So when we flash forward a year, one would think that a film centering on a lesser spotlighted faction of the anime/manga world would prove interesting in the quirky romance realm, but Fujoshi Kanojo (aka- How To Date An Otaku Girl, 2009) asserts otherwise with vigor. Adapted from the light novel by Pentabu, the on its face tale of an ordinary guy, and his two-years older co-worker's rocky relationship. The sticking point being her rampant love for male-to-male relationships in animation and comics. More a half-hearted commercial for so-called "rotten girl" proclivities, and yet another exercise in forcing a pair of people into love for the sake of the story, rather than what is actually necessary for the characters. It is simply the worst kind of sentiment disguised as love-laden fluff due largely missing out on perhaps the other big elephant sharing duplex with Cyborg; dealing with two characters that have no real reason to like each other.


As much as the film's opening "confession" scene wishes to offer up a most unusual relationship, all we get is dysfunction, and often in the name of overselling. Unwilling to make the pair into uniquely complimentary characters with some understandable gulfs in between, director, Atsushi Kaneshige seems uninterested in the material, and only offers up a shrill view of this side of the obsessive fan world. Title character, Yoriko(Wakana Matsumoto) almost off the bat comes off as controlling, avoidant, and generally hyperbolic. And this is often shared with her friends, now just getting to know her new boyfriend, the incredibly ordinary, Hinata (Shunsuke Daito). Right from the offset, and despite her warning, it is clear that he is not one hundred percent ready for the oddball life of his new partner. (much of this consists of her dubbing her new beau as "Sebastian" - a loyal servant name, and making often bizarre demands on the regular) And while that indeed could make for a mildly engaging diversion about something many fan types go through, the film seems perfectly comfortable being as a sub-par commercial for numerous anime stores, and events, while playing up the fujoshi lifestyle as a club for unreasoning harpies. One would wish for a more sensitive way to describe it, but the direction seems unwilling to sell it otherwise. Even when there is a sticking point that harms Yoriko's ability to accept that her boyfriend really does care for her despite her lifestyle, it never amounts to anything compelling, let alone substantial for the story.


There is a general feeling of apathy, and almost contempt that permeates the core conflict that it occasionally infects both the performances, and pacing. So when the second half comes, and the inevitable fissure between both leads comes to a head, matters are made worse when the film takes on a tar-like slog with its pace, as if this is all meant to mean anything. It all ends up as inert as a dud bullet, with only an implication of a debate, but one that never really sees any real exploration. In fact, when things heat up, all it takes is a character being sent overseas to fuel a finale which accelerates to becoming one of the more forced final acts of a "romantic comedy" imaginable. It's so jarring as to be borderline disturbing to be frank.


In fact, the forced nature of taking both films' leads who would normally be seen as aberrations by the mainstream at large, only bolsters a grand admission of ignorance on the part of the filmmakers. One would think that after decades of books, documentaries, and even animation observing this phenomenon, that there would at least be some semblance of understanding of the humanity behind what makes such individuals tick. (Even in Densha Otoko's eye-rolling view of the 2D enamored, there is a faint amount of sweetness to it that is lacking here.) While Cyborg's Jiro is something of a non-entity, Fujosji's Yoriko comes off as imbalanced until the film forces her into being something average Japanese society can tolerate. Latent sexism aside, there is enough happening in both films that grant us a stillborn picture of an industry still unwilling to humanize a misunderstood minority- not to mention women. It's to the point that society's narrative for quirky central characters see them without any depth of voice, and happy to keep it that way.

Switching - Goodbye Me (Tenkosei, Sayonara Anata - 2007) Movie Thoughts

If one had told another more casual cinephile that the man responsible for the increasingly beloved cult favorite, HAUSU (1977) was responsible for this deceptively sedate take on one of 1980s cinema's creakiest premises, they may be considered a fibber at best. On the surface, there is little here to remind viewers of the commercial director who's visions of psychedelic nightmares & carnivorous pianos burned themselves into the minds of many an adventurous movie fan. Some might even see a work like this as some manner of legitimization of a once rabblerousing auteur, now turned mass market craftsman. But with this adaptation of a book by Hisashi Yamanaka, we are given an unexpectedly heartfelt, and yet no less strange tale of two souls forced to best understand one another (in the most literal way possible).



Daydream-addicted teen, Kazumi finds herself at a loss when her childhood boy pal, Kazuo returns to her small town with very limited memory of the days they spent together as kids of neighboring noodle shop owners. Determined to jog the retransplanted city boy, she takes him to the well which is the source of her family's tasty noodles, only to end in an accident which ends up magically switching their bodies. Now dazed, and unsure how to remedy this new problem, the two must work together as friends and family begin to question their bizarre shifts in behavior. And as if this isn't enough, multiple angles in how the two know each other are explored. But alas youth is brief, and neither are very good at playing each other.

Confounding matters, are things that are already going on in each other's lives since they had last seen one another. Kazuo's father is now out of the picture after a divorce, and may be in the middle of a long distance relationship with a fellow piano genius in the city. While Kazumi has been dating a straight-faced philosphy junkie for some time now.  Life now, more than a little interrupted, matters can only be more overwhelming by the fact that they are no longer children. Whether it be troubles with love, or just pesky anatomy, so much is to be forced into the open by sheer cosmic luck. And this is perhaps Obayashi's most fascinating wrinkle to the whole tale. It's a film that is as interested in what happens when a girl once smitten, is now inhabiting the life of someone so important, and vice versa. The language of modern manga is turned fully on its head, as the convenience of neighborly love takes on an almost crash course aura. It seems to be asking, "what does it mean to truly love another?" And while the film may not be wholly successful in this area, it does have enough earnestness to get by.


Obayashi's gift for exploring often sexual themes with the goofy innocence akin to a child's imagination is about as sedate as it gets here. As so many japanese films of the mid-oughts, there is a want on the production's end for this is to become not unlike so many coming-of-age fantasies that are often one step removed from a Makoto Shinkai anime. But what Tenkosei offers up, is a unique series of not only funny, and dramatic questions about the current era's obsessions with nostalgic love, but even a pointed criticism of such thinking. Despite the fact that both central characters find themselves in a situation that they never asked for(they even do the unthinkable by pleading directly with disbelieving parents of their plight), all the protesting in the world won't change the fact that perceptions will never be the same. Even as the visuals of the film seem awash in fall colors, and perhaps even in line with all that is safe within so many recent TBS produced family films of the era, there is an aggressive playfulness that indicates that we are still in the hands of a visionary unwilling to grant us an ordinary piece of youth-driven pep. Even the film's flowing camera work and editing predates JJ Abrams' Star Trek by two years, and makes for a surprisingly kinetic experience for at least two thirds. 


Much of the film's running time is made up of almost episodic stops and starts as the duo try desperately to adjust to their newfound, awkward reality. And it is in some of the smallest moments that it all shines so nicely. Having the leads played by both Misako Renbetsu & Naoyuki Morita perhaps makes all the difference in the world as both do admirable jobs as kids with almost perfect androgyny built into them. From vocal work, to body language, rarely does it ever feel forced, or done for sheer yuks. And when it is funny, more often than not, it tends to convince as the story carries more than a few surprises locked inside. And while there are a few missteps along the way (an encounter with a random groper in a park, and a perhaps unnecessarily sappy third act), there is more than enough here to warrant a look as one of Japan cinema's unsung heroes of quirk weaves his magic in ways that are unexpectedly sober and effective where it counts.

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.

The War In Space (1977) Movie Review

Our story opens as a menacing galleon-esque spaceship descends toward the blue earth with only the glowing red eye of conquest fixed upon our planet. When space transmissions begin interrupting communication abilities across the world, members of a disbanded earth defense unit are in dire need of return. And when admired star pilot Koji Miyoshi (Kensaku Morita) returns to Japan in time to witness the alien treachery engulfing the globe, can he and his loyal team, the crew of the UNSF Gohten be more than a match for the unholy terror that is the Roman-like kingdom of Yomi? This is the core story that comprises the heft of Jun Fukuda's wild & wooly The War In Space (AKA -The Great Planet War). A late 1970's piece of TOHO space madness that  appeared in the wake of not only George Lucas' little noisemaking indie, but of a number of surprise elements.


With the second half of the decade seeming primed for a renewed interest in more romantic science fantasy, War is also looking toward anime as a means of influence. Taking a major lead from Ishiro Honda's beloved Atragon, the film is also conceptually combined with many elements borrowed from the newer-edgier science fiction favorite, Uchu Senkan Yamato to create something that could combine the special effects ingenuity of maestro, Teruyoshi Nakano, and old fashioned high drama. And while this was not something that could just so easily be conjured for live action, director Fukuda and crew give it the ol' college try, and deliver some sincere, ludicrous fun. And while it pales in comparison to the works that inspired them, there is a pace and sense of energy at work here that became harder to replicate even as tokusatsu movies entered a more sophisticated era.

One of the bigger components Fukuda and company heap on in the spirit of the classic space battleship, it's in its cast, and an unabashed lean toward the cartoonishly dramatic. Miyoshi's investment as the story's central character is very much in the classic hero vein, complete with return home from afar, and with unresolved issues. From a long-neglected love, to a best buddy with wedding plans for said love. It's all compounded by the ever-popular mechanic of having the elder chief of the Gohten be the father of Jun(Yuko Asano), who comes along for the a fateful mission to Venus the newly reformed space defense force undertakes for the remainder of the film. This is perhaps as dense as the characterization for this film gets, and while the film packs on the bombastic emotions, a lot of what makes the whole thing work is in how swift the cut moves in between the ingenious effects which include some terrific ship and fighter battles. There is an undeniable desire to pay tribute to what was to become a major cornerstone of Japanese genre media for at least the next twenty years.

And all of this is especially impressive considering that films of this ilk were not in the best of budgetary shape around this period. By this point, producer, Tomoyuki Tanaka and his folks at Toho were nowhere near the giants they once were in the 1950s and 60s. And as such, War In Space is a unique work that takes great advantage of said limitations by either reusing a lot of model shots, some questionably poor monster costume choices, or just having plenty of events happen offscreen. And while this can be considered a minus, it also does plenty to just get us knee-deep in the moment. Even as the crew of the Gohten find themselves obligated to taking the fight to the aliens, there is little fat on these bones. It's actually a tribute to the cast and crew who play matters straight from start to finish. It's heartening to see such sobriety applied to what so easily could be a hopeless schlockfest. The whole thing is a go-for-broke wave hello to a new era of Japanese fantasy, the "Space War", which eventually became a huge part of anime in series' such as the original Gundam.


So, yes. Is this at all what it could be? No. But it hardly matters when considering the era, and the budget onhand. And there is a corporeality to all that craftsmanship on display. (there are even shots here that hint at the astounding miniature work to come in films such as Sayonara Jupiter) It truly comes from a place of inspiration and love. And the soundtrack by Toshiaki Tsushima, oozes fuzz guitar dreams and brass galore. If I had any gripes to bear regarding The War In Space, it's the lack of more Jimmy (David Perin).

Karate Robo Zaborgar(2011) Movie Review

Fathered by a murdered Nobel Prize winning robot scientist, rides and fights alongside sweet transforming karate-wielding robot (who is also his brother), and wears sporty amounts of denim in the name of justice. What's not to love? J-cult nasty boy, Noboru Iguchi takes his Sushi Typhoon cred into the retro stratosphere with the shamelessly goofball Karate Robo Zaborgar, a big movie rendition of the classic 1974 tokusatsu TV series that pitts the hot-blooded special agent Yutaka Daimon (early on, played by Yasuhisa Furuhara) against the monster armies of the evil Sigma, an organization led by the bloodthirsty Doctor Akunomiya, and his cadre of cyborg megalomaniacs. Iguchi eschews a greater amount of his usual tendencies toward jiggle and intense gore to present what is more a cross between loving tribute, and almost bittersweet parody.

From the opening moments, we are introduced to a trio of dutiful Tokyo detectives sent to the Diet building to protect government officials targeted for abduction by Sigma, who's plans require their essence for an undisclosed plan. Led by sub-boss, the alluring, yet frowned upon at home, Miss Borg(Mami Yamasaki), Sigma's plans are quickly foiled by the appearance of the Flying Dragon Tri-Stage Kicking Daimon and Zaborgar, to the delight of the cops, and not so much by the clearly corrupt up and comer, Wakasugi. Easily the passionate youth with a grudge to bear, Daimon is approached by the police in their need for assistance in protecting the establishment, but with concern for the helmeted hero's instability. Matters become even more complicated when love unexpectedly comes into the picture, changing fortunes across the board. It isn't long before allegiances are questioned,  revelations pile up, and we are witness to some of the most delightfully bizarre sights ever displayed for a genre famous for being patently wacky.

Ever see a grown man breast feed his children in the absence of their dead mother? Ever witness the murder of a parent by way of lasers shot by a giant floating scrotum? Ever witness bizarre cyborg sex rituals?

Ever witness the manly tears of a robot of justice?

The film's TV episode-y format is taken full advantage of when our story flashes forward, boldly taking the entire premise into even further absurdity, but with a twist. A middle-aged Daimon (now played by comedian, Itsuji Itao) is now a virtually broken, penniless diabetic, having lived much of his life under the thumb of fate when destiny calls again, and Sigma's grand plans seem finally ready to be unleashed onto an unsuspecting recession-era Japan, and inevitably, the world!

Suddenly, the Iguchi of Machine Girl fame begins to kick in with some unexpected character, and much to say about the generations that have transpired since the salad days of tokusatsu heroes. The deeds of the past have far reaching consequences for all our characters, and it's up to all to save Japan. Rather than merely reveling in nostalgia, there is a mild attempt to bring a few grounded concerns to the fray. Elements such as the inability of the elder generation to gain a foothold in society as the corrupt on top collect, the enmity between children and their parents, and fears of youth gone absurd best illustrated by way of a giant schoolgirl waging a swath of destruction by way of casual mobile phone conversation. While not anywhere near as successful as it could have been, it's pretty fun to see these satirical dynamics flirted with within such a piece.

As with most J-throwbacks, it isn't all as functional as it likely could have been. While packed to the gears with such amazing imagery and action, the film's length does at times drag. And as previously mentioned, it is when Iguchi's instincts for parody go broad, the humor doesn't work very often. But when there are Iguchi-esque touches to popular Zaborgar tropes and characters. (Miss Ruggers - a group of American Football gear-sporting beauties comes ragingly to mind, exploding balls and all. There is also the matter of the..um Dinosaur army..Ahem.) On the whole, Iguchi's large-scale retelling of Denjin Zaborgar is an unexpectedly sweet-natured, CG-heavy fun fest, sure to make many fans of Japanese genre TV smile one way or another.

Fish Story (2009) Movie Review

It is hours before a wayward comet barreling toward earth is to eradicate all life, as a sole figure rolls into a puzzlingly open record shop. Within the walls of the naturally quiet establishment, a pair of young men; one being the proprietor, the other a loyal customer, listen to some tunes, musing about the possibilities of salvation. This only vexes the defeated elder gentleman, set in his feeling that humanity is doomed. It is only within an old recording from a lost punk outfit that predated the Sex Pistols, that the fates of all just might hang in the balance. And such a strange setting is merely the beginning of an unexpected journey through the lives of several  seemingly random, yet inextricably bound souls in Yoshihiro Nakamura's  thoughtful fantasy based on Tamio Hayashi's novel. Very much in the vein of "hyperlink" films ala BABEL, or Crash, and even the most recent, Cloud Atlas, the film explores the threads that link a piece of creative work has toward possibly changing the course of history through a series of semi-vignettes, seemingly unrelated toward one another, yet somehow finding some manner of connective tissue.

Jumping back and forth through time with characters that on the surface, seem so distinctly different from one another(and often displaying varying tones), while is in no way is the piece as serious as the previously mentioned examples, but it is an unexpectedly rewarding paean to inspiration, complete with just a smidge of sly satire.

Without going into far too much detail as to avoid spoiling, the film covers several decades leading up to the central dilemma, as hope becomes a bit of a ping-pong ball, with the young, ready to embrace the possibilities, and the elders, ready to accept their fate with clenched fists. So as the stories begin with one in 1982, and a trio of young men listen to "paranormal recordings" before heading out for a night on the town, we are re-introduced to the track, "Fish Story", which was what we heard in the music store. A song by long-forgotten rockers, Gekirin. And in is within the rebellious sounds (and bizarre middle-section) of the song, that fate plays a heavy hand in the events of this initial tale. It is from here that we leap forward to 1999, where a doomsday cult sees themselves having better days. With the end of the world "postponed" for a later date, pieces begin moving that may (or may not) affect future events.

So when the film takes a sudden left, toward what almost looks and feels like any other quirky J-drama setup (ordinary schoolgirl oversleeps on a cruise ship, only to meet a most unusual do-gooder moments before the boat is hijacked), it is with perhaps a little disappointment as the segment itself veers between levels of sweetness as if primed to almost completely derail what had come before. And yet somehow, Nakamura and company figure out a way to make even this teeth-rotting cul-de-sac vital despite its pacing and tonal weirdness.

And just when it all becomes borderline frustrating, what the film is barreling toward is something of a welcome sucker punch once the final major sequence enters the stage; a dramatically laid back 1975 sequence involving Gekirin, the band whose song permeates the piece. During a tumultuous time in their days as a band, torn between success and artistic, freedom, the sequence is a leisurely, thoughtful, and sometimes even touching compliment toward everything prior. Made all the more potent via performances by Nao Omori, Atsushi Ito, and others, this is a lovely centerpiece that is all so familiar, and yet sensitively executed. It's a segment that echoes more of a western independence streak that is rare for a mainstream Japanese film. And with this affectionately non-consumerist theme in its arsenal, the remainder of the comet tale makes for a last heartfelt push toward destiny. Which is where I'll stop talking about the story in general as this is a work that is far more potent in the feel rather than the reality.

With limited resources, and the diverse color of the cast, Nakamura more than makes up for certain deficiencies with pure heart. Fish Story is not only a charming & fanciful musing on the power of rock n' roll, but is also a clever tribute to those who try, despite the lack of traditional means. One person's bungled inspiration, might be another's battle cry. One person's act of kindness may just inspire greater things in the future. It's a celebration of the wistfully naive, and meant for those who love dreaming despite the odds. Whether we know it or not, we all have a part in the same song, and boy does the future seem in good hands.

Akumu No Elevator [Elevator Trap] (2009) Movie Review

In a hurry to reach his in-labor wife, young Jun Ogawa(Takumi Saitoh) finds himself knocked unconscious, and suddenly coming to within an elevator, now trapped inside with three uniquely peculiar strangers. One, a down on his luck yakuza(Masaaki Uchino). Another, an elderly man in a track suit(Fuyuki Moto) with a startling secret, and a teenager in gothic lolita garb(Aimi Satsukawa), seemingly ready to end her life. All three incapable of communicating with the outside, their personalities & circumstances clash, with unexpected twists unfolding as noone is what they seem. And all of this, merely prelude. Actor, Keisuke Horibe's directorial debut based on the novel by Hanta Kinoshita is a decidedly mixed affair that reaches impressive highs, and yet finds itself unable to tie matters together in any larger sense.



To be honest, I was ready for an entire film to be confined to this setting. There is enough sense of timing, choreography and performance here that it easily feels labored and well-executed. In many ways, this section alone qualifies as a classically-styled stage play, or short subject. Taken on its own, the entire film comes off like a well-storyboarded spin on flashback-laden tales of confinement ala LOST, with perhaps even a dash of The Breakfast Club. So once things truly get going, and headlong into a second act, there is definitely much more going on that unspools like a macabre game of reverse Mousetrap. Layers of truth slough off here and there, until reality is virtually upended top-down, and themes of living with fictions as justification take over-- even as bodies & revelations begin to pile up.

And while the latter end of this indeed has it's impressive moments of grim humor, a good deal of it feels unclear of what it's in the service of. And this is most likely due to a bookend structure that Horibe unnecessarily grants the piece, a structure that pleads to give it all meaning, but ultimately feels either underwritten, or lacking in clarity. When establishing at frame one as to who the film's true focal point is before the title-based sequence, there is either a need to make this a more prominent emotional core to the film, or else it feels forced, which it ultimately does. While its well and good that a film can attempt to pay tribute to mystery/suspense conventions, whilst nodding at human drama, Kinoshita's script simply finds itself unable to reconcile with all the additional baggage plaguing the opening and ending.

As it stands, Elevator Trap excels best when it's playing on genre expectations, parodying our love of the unexpected, and offering up a surprisingly funny satire of urban Japanese character-types. But when it tries to reach for something closer to the heart, it simply finds itself a little lost.

Gothic & Lolita Psycho (2010) Movie Review

Somewhere deep in Tokyo, a grand party packed with rowdy yakuza, dancers, and generally unpleasant folk is taking place. Suddenly brewing amongst the gamblers, is a feud between an arrogant young american, and a cocky gangster and his lady(Asami) brews, only to be quelled by the oyabun throwing the party. It is only a moment after this altercation that the festivities are brought to a grinding halt by the messy entrance of a lone girl in gothic lolita gear, lusting after violent revenge. And this is merely the first five minutes of Go Ohara's ultra-schlocky no-budget actioner. A piece so geared toward a certain niche, that it is no way deserves any manner of serious discourse as it never intends to elicit any. Much like the recent output of one Yoshihiro Nishimura, and guys like Noboru Iguchi, one would expect this to maintain something of a kinship to what many may consider to be Japan's equivalent to Troma. But what happens instead, is more akin to a nugget of an idea awash in a basin of tinier, more scattered fragments.

After the sweet and innocent, Yuki and her family are attacked by a group of hooded evildoers, leaving the mother(Fumie Nakajima) dead, and father bound to a wheelchair, it is up to her (now inexplicably sporting a leather EGL outfit, something not terribly giving toward anyone looking for a fight) to hunt down each of these killers; each represented by a collection of tarot-style cards. With each confrontation becoming increasingly bizarre and challenging, Yuki's catholic priest father (Yurei Yanagi of Ringu & Juon) supports her by (again, inexplicably) supplying her with an assortment of multifunctional killer parasols. And after possibly only three minutes of exposition, Ohara just lets each ensuing battle take center stage, and often with zero to no context as to reason or rhyme. All we know is that Yuki's mother must be avenged, and that these villains can be straight out of a mid-to-low grade fighting video game, only with a much higher blood-gallon count. It's a goofy premise that could very easily make for an energetic and inspired sendoff to what was once a truly standout fashion movement. A look is never really over until it is cartoonized on film, and Gothic & Lolita Psycho has all the makings of what could be something special, but due to one issue or another, it never works beyond mere novelty.


Ohara's take on the revenge storyline never takes full advantage of an unfolding flashback that occurs through the film as we are introduced to each villain mere seconds before each confrontation. And this alone is enough to place a huge red flag over matters. One of the largest questions lingering throughout the film, concerns the reasons for the assault on Yuki's family, and subsequently, the death of her mother. For as simple a small amount of storytelling as this could be, the film never makes any real attempt to connect in any valid way in regards to the whys of everything including this. So all viewers are stuck with, are a series of fight scenes that range from mildly annoying (a school gym fight with a telekinetic teacher), to the absurdly amusing (Yuki versus the squeaky-voiced kogal Elle[Misaki Momose] is easily the film's highlight--John Woo dives, and grotesque amounts of god-ammunition make for an uncommonly fun ten-plus minutes). An exercise in incongruous ideas and improvised madness, one eventually has to throws their arms up with a film of this ilk, and just roll with it.  The problems come not because of it merely being so cheap, but rather that the piece never seems to find any balance between the revenge plot, and the ultimate goal. Stuff just happens in a goofy manner, and that's pretty much it. The final product feels like a majority of the budget went to Akiyama's outfit, the ever-present choir-of-doom score, and the FX which go from merely serviceable to terrible. It's bad enough that the makers behind the film offer no real reason for Yuki's demeanor, let alone her newfound interest in decadent couture. Again, films like this aren't meant to be pondered on too much, but these glaring issues are made moreso by a general lack of connective tissue. Closer in nature to Toxic Avenger 2 than to the original, there's a distinct lack of human grit to the proceedings that it becomes difficult to ignore. It's like an idea for a trailer that somehow got spun into full length, without any of the meat that justifies it.

So when we finally get to the "final boss" battle, and Yuki is brought to her limits, the movie piles on the absurd to the point where it simply lacks the fun necessary to sell it. Taking things back to Oneechanbara, an earlier film Ohara was involved in, we are witness to another exploitation piece bereft of many of the elements that made films like Iguchi's Machine Girl or Tokyo Gore Police. We are offered the promise of a fun, no-brainer night of action featuring kick-ass female leads often culled from the gravure/AV world, but it all lacks the one thing that is capable of even mildly redeeming the worst low-concept material..charm. (Frilly clothes need not apply)

                                                          

The Memory Lagoon - Female Convict 701 (Sasori) [1972]

The Memory Lagoon is a limited series involving second looks at previously reviewed works in hopes of attaining a more nuanced view, and perhaps..a little extra.

When Matsu(Meiko Kaji) is betrayed by corrupt cop, Sugimi(Isao Natsuyagi), the only man she ever loved, and locked in an oppressively run maximum security women's prison. From the opening scene, it is abundantly clear that the only two things surging through her tortured mind, are escape and violent revenge. It's only when Sugimi makes a pact with one of Matsu's inmates (Rie Yokoyama), when the already fevered tension between the innocent prisoner 701, and the horny, corrupt system of the prison, reaches an irrevocable bursting point. When considering the exploitation market, and what it is largely known for, one might be hard-pressed to ever consider the art level to even remotely be something to flirtatiously play with. But in the case of the first cinematic outing of Tohru Shinohara's long-haired heroine, director Shunya Ito takes an almost Seijun Suzuki route by making the world of Sasori into one of almost savage beauty. 


It is almost immediately that Ito's goal seems clear; that the film version of an already impressively violent comic was prime material for what many would eventually consider to be de rigueur for so-called "pinky violence" films of the early 1970s. And 701 lives up to this with a more impressive budget than many of its contemporaries, and with an almost hallucinatory style to cohabit the often lurid sexual violence that permeates Matsu's original adventure. The film's unique use of moody lighting, modular stages, and some truly original use of the widescreen format fuels the film to an almost point of panic. True to it's trashy roots, Matsu is subjected to all a manner of abuse, only to find that she possesses an almost superhuman endurance(a running theme in Shinohara's output). Not to mention a vicious streak that tends to incite often equally or worse violent reactions from those around.It is this element that rounds out the affair by granting it all a memorable freak factor to what could so easily have become another "women in prison" flick. It is almost as if Ito and company found themselves ready to prove their mettle regardless of the material on hand.

So when the Matsu trips up numerous attempts to destroy her within the walls of the prison in an "accident", the action finally escalates to a shocking and often jaw-dropping prison revolt.  It is within the sexual anarchy on display, that the film goes all out in search of ways to both trouble and possibly shake up certain gender predispositions. Matsu, caught between the warden and guards, and those determined to destroy her, is made into something that could possibly make even the "ironic" admirers of Riki-Oh blush. In many ways, it's hard to believe that this was made where and when it was lest readers forget the often radical politics happening on and around the streets of urban Japan during these years. It's a conservative's fiery worst nightmare that muscles beyond the confines of a the simple walls of a correctional facility, and ultimately ends on the streets of Tokyo in a memorable finale that feels lifted directly from the manga page.

Exploitation favorite, Meiko Kaji burns a deep impression as the titular heroine, a character so put-upon, so quietly simmering, that each of her victories seem incrementally huge regardless of their often questionable nature. Her performance, largely told in her eyes, is truly effective, while so many around her continue to fall victim to their own imagined stake in the game. The villains of the piece are often so over-the-top that it feels as if many are ready to burst from their own overworked blood pressures, while Kaji merely delivers a well-administered fatal push. Even as films of this ilk often engender an old world "women must be stoic" vibe, there is also a certain amount of playful humor, best encompassed by a scene involving a planted officer amongst prison ranks that backfires in a most comical fashion. For every other  "for the guys" decision of the film, there is often an equally absurd retort, which is uncharacteristically clever for the subgenre, and Kaji often makes for a singularly iconic hero that can dish out the worst with the best of the era's bushy-eyebrowed action avatars.

Cold Fish (2010) Movie Review

Small town aquarium fish store owner & family are suddenly rescued from domestic strife by an elder, wildly charismatic business man(Denden) & younger wife(Asuka Kurosawa) with an even larger aquatic life establishment nearby. With a unhappy daughter(Hikari Kajiwara), and lovely but troubled new wife(Megumi Kagurazaka) of his own, the wallflower-like & ineffective Shamoto(Mitsuru Fukikoshi)'s own family seems instantly primed and happy to take in this sudden stroke of small fortune despite his natural reservation. It is only soon after that his worries about his own wayward family life are dwarfed by the revelation that the aggressively showy Murata and wife, Aiko, are in fact not merely con artists of the highest order, but serial killers with plans to make their new friend and family a part of their own freakish carnival of commerce.Yes, it may seem that I often stop up this moreover "genre" geared blog for reviews often concerning the darkest recesses of the human animal, but sometimes a point-blank approach says it better than any giant monster could. The often more subdued and sublime Sion Sono rips off the gloves, and offers us one of the bleakest, nastiest pieces of Japanese cinema in over a decade.

Working with an often incredible script by Sono and Yoshiki Takahashi, Cold Fish begins with some of the most aggressive approaches to what often could be construed as the mundane I have seen in a great while. From rapid cuts of an intense night of instant dinner prep, to a chance meeting, ending in tours of both central locations, it is a solid, tour-de-force of a prologue that sets up Shamoto's inner and outer worlds versus the almost absurdly giddy mirror image that Murata and Aiko present with their larger facilities, Ferrari, and brashy presentation & adoration of almost tourist-trap gaudiness. Almost elated that Murata is aiming to make the young Mitsuko one of his tackily-dressed live-in store staff, Shamoto and wife, Taeko, seem relieved that someone so generous seems so willing to help the couple with a child seemingly on a troubled path. But it is merely stage one of a larger scheme that involves Shamoto's own non-confrontational nature, something that could easily be used to win the confidence of others. It is this nature that also becomes central the the film's central concerns about the contemporary Japanese family, and its occasional flirtation with the morose. And as the film begins gathering steam, it is clear that the truth behind Murata serves as an aggressive, often shocking 180 degree response to such an existence. And the effects on Shamoto bear potential for dire consequences that stretch far beyond his own complicity in crimes that quickly begin to escalate from graphic insanity to almost infectious internal apocalyptic notions, threatening all within arm's reach.

Inspired by terribly true events, the film never shies away from immense heapings of gore,  yet always remains grounded in some relatable universe. With a film that deals with such often-horrific subject matter, it is often a safety button for many filmmakers to throw in an aside, a gag, or something to allow the events some manner of audience decompression. And dare I say, Cold Fish "gleefully" avoids this habit in favor of playing matters totally straight, keeping the dark comedy truly subjective. Sono's choice to keep matters subdued makes for some sobering thoughts concerning the roots of domestic evil, and the occasional monsters who fuel it.

So when I look at the film's "monsters" and see that Denden & Kurosawa are in no manner "classic" movie psychos, but lost souls with little remorse to keep them from making their paths in the world, it's a waking nightmare. Instantly evoking both the borderline huckster-esque, and the genuinely self-righeous, Denden's Murata is easily the film's most spectacular feature. A character so ridiculous in his sensibilities, and yet strangely true to life, that it's easy to see just how long his real-life counterpart was capable of eluding capture. And Kurosawa's Aiko, with her mix between streetwise beauty, and giddy liberation, is both compelling and utterly terrifying. Such laughter and enthusiasm from both him and Kurosawa make for some truly indelible characters, and it will likely be a long time before I can even consider a rival for such a position.

But the movie's most challenging balancing act comes from Fukikoshi, former gravure idol, Kagurazaka, and Kajiwara, who's Shamoto family comes rife with turmoil already primed to burst before this pair of TNT kegs came along. Kagurazaka impresses as the new mother of the family, someone with already enough baggage and guilt plaguing the household as she married into matters not too long after the passing of the original which has incensed the already acting out Kajiwara. A younger step-mother who has also inherited the family business that seems destined to go nowhere. The romance sequestered to merely a corner of a lonely stretch of highway, dosing on a lifetime of instant rice dinners, and tending to a family that is not very welcoming of one's habits let alone presence, or of even discussing matters of the future outside of the stars seems like a recipe for problems that are brought to full boil here. All events of course not going here or there due to Fukikoshi, who's entire life seems to be a giant, immutable compromise. His Shamoto, while on the surface, seems completely inert in his will to make change, is the face of "ganbare" pushed toward the breaking point. While a little piece of heaven is revealed to be Hades incarnate, it is his unwillingness to make any major choices that sets up the story's penultimate thematic detonator that goes off far beyond the monstrous acts happening before and around him. It is this belief that all will be better if he just soldiers on that creates many an undoing, and takes us into some truly unexpected territory.


Even as the film's third act rockets off into sheer fantasyland, the notion is clear; generations of stepping in line, and ignoring the base urge to survive fuels resent, violence, and an abyss capable of ensnaring even the most innocent. Cold Fish, while yet another challenge to ideas of decency, and "civilized" sensibilities, is the kind of response to South Korean revenge films many have been hoping to see from Japan, and a gnarled warning about how close we truly are to the nature we claim to be in control of, and how far we've wandered from stating our truest, deepest intentions.

So I Watched Salvage Mice (2011)

Still puzzled a day-plus after stumbling upon a low-grade J-cheapie that just came up in Netflix's "new releases" bin, the St.Tailhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Tail ripoff, Hiroshima tourism commercial that is Ryuta Tazaki's  Salvage Mice. Now while I have no intention of typing out a full review, I will just go on record as saying that while I can definitely see potential in a no-budget tale of a young girl who wears a mask and retrieves stolen artifacts from museums owned by do-badders, the importance of showing the strengths of your lead character is vital if one is going to begin the tale mid-caper. The amount of half-heartedness on display is on par with so many cheesy tokusatsu homages, that it easily becomes background noise if anything at all. If nothing else, the entire affair feels like a contractual obligation merely playing itself out around several Hiroshima landmarks, even going so far as to film in and around the offices of Hiroshima Home Terebi. So yes, this is even cheaper than the usual martial arts-packed tokusatsu fluff that comes out for television on a regular basis.

Now if this were merely some simply harmless, dopey youth action material, I'd be a lot less bugged by it, but there is definitely a streak of nasty stereotyping, and outright creepiness that permeates the piece. Much like anime in recent years, the emphasis on making sure your female leads are seen as squeaky clean bastions of innocence is often offset in this film by some tonally off gestures from some of the movie's stock male bad dudes. Very often, Salvage Mice doesn't seem to be sure what audience it is geared toward, giving off an almost classically in-denial feel. That's right. This is high-kicking, tourism plugging moe with a hint of regional prejudice (see visitors from Osaka)

It doesn't help that it is very clear that a lot of this was filmed without a proper story, and made up on the fly. It's pretty much the kind of stuff one expects to be randomly playing in the background at your local Marukai Marketplace. To imagine this as a legitimate release with a trailer seems pretty silly (and perhaps even a little desperate) in retrospect.



And yes, it's possible to enjoy this in some wildly fleeting, "as the party winds down" manner. (especially due to Julia Nagano's at times impressive kenpo) But for what it is, Salvage Mice is perhaps best to be found in a new section akin to a "new release bargain bin". And as a piece of marketing for potential tourists, it's the only place that makes any sense as it's pretty much the movie equivalent to a leaflet.

Movie Review: Mechanical Violator Hakaider (1995)

Somewhere after a devastating global apocalypse, at an unspecified time, a group of scavengers stumble upon and awaken a sleeping humanoid robot kept imprisoned and wrapped in chains. In a flash, they are dispatched with frightening efficiency, and instantly this blood-stained machine hops onto his trusted motorcycle, and sets off to Jesus Town - possibly the last refuge of humanity. Only the citizens of this armed fortress city live under the beautiful bootheels of one Gurjev, and his lethal assistant robot, Michael. With their draconian use of force, and vegetable-creating microchip implantation, they have fashioned a society aligned with Gurjev's own brand of justice and harmony. Unbeknownst to them, a bike-riding messenger from the past is en route. And not necessarily bearing goals to liberate the humans of Jesus Town. Feel the burning righteous fist of Hakaider!


In the past, I have considered doing writeups I have felt would perhaps come at odds with certain fandoms, thereby alienating myself from them. But in the name of honest critical discourse, it only felt just that a personal record be set in regards to my feelings on practical special effects movie maestro, Keita Amemiya. As fun as some of his films are at a character craft level (his main claim to fame is his use of often brilliantly realized creatures, props, and stop motion. Those familiar with the Zeiram films, this is the guy responsible.), his films simply lacks any sense of dramatic flow, rhythm, or weight. They are often awkwardly staged, hypnotic works, and not in a good way. Often times, the bulk of his work seem more attenuated toward tokusatsu fans, and enthusiasts of finely crafted creatures and machines, offering little else to the proceedings. And in the case of Hakaider, this is made threefold, as it becomes glaringly clear that despite being inspired by the works of manga legend, Shotaro Ishinomori, there is nowhere near enough budget or script for Amemiya and crew to even begin working with.



For starters, as something of a side story to the title character who is the arch rival of the one and only Kikaider, there is little to no real exposition laid out for anything in the piece, which largely consists of Hakaider riding his bike somewhere, only to be stopped, start fighting, kill everyone, and then continue toward the city. The movie is just a series of events strung together by often haphazard action sequences that offer no real context for anything, except to establish that Hakaider is something of a nihilist amnesiac. He knows nothing of his past before the events displayed here, and only seems to be around to screw up anyone or anything who wanders into his path. We don't even get an idea of what's at stake, who are the real villains, or who we can even pretend to care for. Not even the innocent would-be resistance-fighter, Kaoru (Mai Hosho)can truly serve as audience surrogate when it seems that all of her dialogue seems to have been summoned up on the spot- right on down to completely puzzling notions involving "becoming a bride". This lack of any real structure gives Hakaider a glacial, frustrating vibe that is only remedied by its clearly unintentional laughs.(not to mention groans when the film attempts humor-most notably an out of nowhere shot of Kaoru's scrapper companions simultaneously chewing gum, when clearly some setup was required but did not have) And when considering Amemiya's previous body of work, this is really saying something.



Digging even deeper, I'd even postulate that this was a project that was essentially hoisted upon the director, and in turn, the film is possibly a glimpse into his psyche as he attempts to stem the tide of mid-1990s manga tropes that he possibly doesn't, or isn't interested in understanding. That's right. We may have a film that feaures a number of visual fluorishes that are highly indicative of the era (Visual Kei fashion, faux-goth imagery, tons of feathers), they come at a clip that in many ways implies a certain disdain for them. As if these ideas were implemented via committee despite the director's wishes. The general phoniness of it all, runs concurrent with the entire film's lack of overall energy. All the angel wings, and co-opted bishonen evoke images of the works of CLAMP, Kaori Yuki, and even Tetsuya Nomura, in some halfhearted attempt to invite a new demographic to the film, do nothing to ground the film in any manner of actual flair or style. It's all far too limp to even bother.


So when all one has left are Amemiya's mechanical concepts, and action scenes, one cannot help but feel like these are the only reasons for the film's existence. And even then, perhaps surprisingly, the action choreography is even more weightless and hollow than usual. So the majority of the film comprises of this manner of scraping for anything, and in my estimation, it's again the design work, particularly of the mechanized second in command, Michael, that steals the show. Gurjev's mechanical (?) army is relatively flimsy. And Hakaider's overall design is decent, albeit pretty standard despite his glowing brain, and green grimace.

And as mentioned, the biggest issue that plagues the entire affair, is a general lack of real exposition, or motivation behind any of the characters and their actions. The closest to any agency we actually witness is from Gurjev and Michael. (Especially Michael,who actually seems to genuinely wish to do right by his master. One cannot help but feel as if he could strike out on his own here, but alas..) Hakaider never really gets explored despite his supposed importance be it in machine or humanoid form. All we get from him is that he's something of an id pressure valve for a director clawing for a reason to make this film. And while this may seem unfair to say, it's the only reasonable explaination for all the dark machine does in the whole 90-minutes we are witness to. We know he likes to beat up and often kill those without agency of their own, and can burn flowers just by walking past them. And that's about it. Even his final showdown with the pretty boy dictator, and his robo-buddy cannot escape the oodles of awkward spewing forth throughout. If one cannot laugh, how can one survive? Without it, Amemiya's paean to one of tokusatsu's greatest antiheroes is not terribly different from the Magic Eye paintings from the same era whence it came. Nothingness that isn't afraid to stare back into you. But I guess those who don't mind their nothingness with a cool-looking winged robot might be fine with it.

Kamata Kyoshin-kyoku (AKA Fall Guy, 1982) Movie Review

Ginshiro Kuraoka (Morio Kazama) is a one-time matinee idol type who has now begun to feel the plummeting weight of his fading star. Having to stoop to sneaking in as many closeups as possible in lieu of up and coming competition, the once proud star reveals to his astonished entourage a less than flattering side that is in no small way, an open admission of panic at his predicament. And it only gets worse upon the bombshell that his one-time movie favorite starlet girlfriend is four months pregnant. Enter the life of his most trusted stunt double in Yasu (Mitsuru Hirata), who is now essentially put upon to marry the discarded and heartbroken Konatsu (Keiko Matsuzaka) in the name of damage control. Both equally shocked by the former star's behavior, but also saddled with few options, the two eventually do agree to swap vows, which leads to Yasu's ever more daring overtures for increasingly dangerous action scene work. With Kinji Fukasakuat the helm, one can't shake the feeling that he has taken the lens away from his more familiar focus of ire, the world of the Yakuza, and turned it inward, as Kamata Kyoshin-kyoku is as savage an evisceration of the Japanese movie industry, as it is a wildly entertaining anti-comedy.

No sooner does the good-hearted, and humble Yasu take on this complicated responsibility, that his entire world becomes a winding rollercoaster of pain and hardship. Often taking double jobs within the same scene, pretending to have not had his chance prior to the crew, Yasu's dedication to his bride-to-be and unborn child begins to reach troubling levels. And all the while, Konatsu comes to better understand her erstwhile ex, as he has now set his sights on a younger, hopelessly dim bulb of a fan. Now even further feeling left behind, Konatsu attempts to better dedicate herself to her new circumstances. So when the film takes a sharp turn, leading to the return of Ginshiro to the core story, and a potentially death-defying stunt with Yasu singularly in mind, the film becomes a gut-wrenching time bomb along with Yasu, as he is pushed to his physical and emotional limits.

And while some may argue that such a premise is the last thing one considers to be one that could elicit laughter, Fukasaku's often frenzied direction and the work's effective performances create a world where the irony and laughter are interchangeable within a cultural context. While westerners might see much of this as often uncomfortable, and borderline melodramatic, it may be important to be familiar with the language of Japanese cinema, and the means by which little of this is filmed with abject seriousness in mind, save for the implications. Which is why Hirata's Yasu is so indelible. His unique blend of earnest simpleton, and selfless fool is an incredible draw for the film as he embodies more than merely a complex loser lead, but rather many of those who live the cinema dream, even while working in its stages. There is no spill too big, or bruise not worth flirting with. It's all in the name of this undefinable dream that is ever elusive, no matter how close one is with those already within the "winner's circle". Equally impressive is Matsuzaka, who carries with her a classic beauty who has like so many, settled well before their ability came to full flower in a industry obsessed with youth. But these two would not be so well established without the terrible force of nature that is Kazama as Ginshiro, who's diva manchild antics simply borderline on horrific.

Cleverly, the film begins within the confines of a cinematic world, as Ginshiro's most prideful face is on display during the filming of yet another period action piece. But just as soon as we see this, we are also witness to the reality regarding him, as well as the bit players on the set, which include day players such as Yasu, who seem set in their wishes for better work, even if it's for mere peanuts. So even as we get to know how good and dedicated a presence Yasu is to the clearly childlike and unstable Ginshiro, it becomes something of a masochistic relationship- more than likely borne out of a film world filled with individuals incapable of seeing their own worth, and often wiling to do anything to remain part of it. When considered in such a context, Yasu's role is no different than so many of Fukasaku's criminal outcasts. Always on the outside, looking in, and often at a heavy price.

So when the story reaches its final act, and the mutual worlds of  Yasu, Konatsu, and the film's reach critical mass, it is a boiling point that is both intentionally overwrought, and almost mocking of how such films in a standard movie world both seem so real and yet ineffectually manufactured. Worlds blur, and it's pretty stunning with how it is all handled.

While definitely not one of his most instantly accessible, Kamata Kyoshin-kyoku is a sneaky, brutal, often bleakly funny experience that is vital to J-film fans the world over.