Thematic Wanderings: Shozo Hirono & The Yakuza Politiq

Been spending so many months considering how film is often a forum for not only the requisite escapes and flights of fancy so many viewers come to expect from a night at the cinema, but also of challenging, and often regressive forms of political musing. Much in the way that classic art and literature, at their core presented interesting ways to serve the public without being harshly transparent. And while many works attempt to avoid this, it is undeniable that many of filmdom's most iconic works are in fact collage-like representations of social constructs, questions, and occasional rally cries based on daily life of the time in which it was filmed. Even as markets lean more and more toward remakes and adaptations, it is not without an often pointed concern that even more spectacle-centric features are capable of carrying with them very real questions about the role of citizens versus that of those running the show. And the further we look back, the more this is evidently obvious in societies young in this manner of film discourse.


Specifically in realms of more rough and ready forms of media of the late 1960s-early 1970s anime and Japanese film, there was so much happening outside local movie houses and homes, that it was hard to watch anything of impact without it alluding to some form of strife taking place throughout multiple sectors of the post-war era. Where in anime, much of this frustration and angst could be seen manifested in works such as Devilman & others, few filmmakers captured the full-frontal conflict of hidden societies, scraping desperately for ever-shrinking dividends than Kinji Fukasaku. A man who's Battles Without Honor and Humanity (aka - The Yakuza Papers) series furiously carved out a stifling vision of systems forged and unforged in real time, without what so many once imagined to be firmly established codes. In this series, centering on the twenty-plus year war over Hiroshima's gangland titans and small fries, each installment paints a bloody tapestry, loosely based on real events that rocked an already unstable nation weary from conflicts abroad, aching for some manner of new identity.


With the young and often idealistic Shozo Hirono (in an icon-making performance by Bunta Sagawara) struggling to maintain a sense of honor to an increasingly chaotic underworld, we are host to a full-tilt typhoon of violence, treachery, and tattered pride that was up until that time, unseen in Japanese crime dramas outside of some of Fukasaku's earlier excursions into post-war criminality. Where Street Mobster, and others flirted with the dregs of an economic rollercoaster, the Battles saga dives headlong into the beast's belly, often surrounded by antiheroes with varying degrees of trustworthiness. Most of which is displayed by Sugawara's Hirono, a weathered man who's struggles from the very bottom of the pecking order, take him to the highest levels in Hiroshima gangland. His central struggle being that a man of old fashioned codes and morals, almost constantly finding himself in danger of irrevocably being stained by the erosion, not to mention treachery coming at him from nearly all sides.


Perhaps this is best encapsulated by his almost bleakly humorous relationship with would-be kingpin, Yamamori (Nobuo Kaneko), perhaps the new face of Japanese leadership. Sniveling, petty, and cowardly to a tee, Yamamori's almost whiny money-man approach seems primed to infect generations of more "jingi"-based members of the local families. This almost absurd invasion of big business into the affairs of those who would rather see themselves as local "Robin hood" types soon reveals hidden motivations, and newfound lusts for power that find Hirono almost inescapably trapped in Yamamori's orbit. Even as he begins making a name for himself amongst the Kure City gumi, the old man is never terribly far away. Almost becoming the father he never wanted, Yamamori (and even his equally cartoonish wife) ingratiates himself into poor Hirono's life, often leading to some truly terrible conflicts and bloodshed. The absurdity simply being in that our hero's often hard wood stubbornness to be the more honorable man keep him from destroying this longtime rival once and for all. But alas, nothing is ever so simple, therefore the two often require each other despite such animosity.

       
 By the time we get to Proxy War, this is made into greater manifest once Hiroshima's gangs are met with a most unlikely leader in Uchimoto, "successor" to the Muraoka clan. Whiny, petulant and cowardly, he is in many ways a far more irresponsible rendition of Yamamori, only with that much more reckless pride. Even as Fukasaku front-loads the "messages" behind this third film, the story is no less potent in its satire as a multitude of the town's most brawny gangsters find themselves at the whims of a pair of niggling manchildren, ready to spill blood over the most shallow of justifications. In many ways a mirror to the tumult happening in the streets of Tokyo(Not to mention the world abroad) , with those in power squabbling over scraps as the young and powerful are meant to fight amongst each other (and often die) for what Fukasaku likely considered to be patently absurd reasons.


What makes the Battles series so singularly political, is evident from Fukasaku's unflinching rage that is painted with grand strokes and striking sound, often making no bones about the horrors that lie under the veils of propriety and tradition that are bandied over others in the name of order. Rituals of bonding and unification suddenly take on a mechanical, often transparently disingenuous nature, and are little more than showcases for which new schism is soon to appear, ready to unravel virtually seconds later. The worms of pride, and greed underlie virtually every "diplomatic" move that is made, often a false formality, and far from interested in anything as noble as peace. In the world of Fukasaku's yakuza, power is fleeting, honor is questionable, and even the strongest find themselves at odds with comrades, even to the point that they must grovel at the feet of their greatest rival for some infinitesimal piece of rotted meat on petrified bones.

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.

Sympathy For The Underdog(1971) Movie Review

When Gunji, an old-time gangster is released after ten years of prison life, he comes home to see the remnants of his gang scattered, and worse, at the point of scraping the bottom. Having nearly being driven out of town by the now powerful Daitokai gang, Gunji and his remaining loyals plot a new course in Okinawa. Now surrounded by American GIs, foreigners of all kinds, and the roar of passing jets overhead, the small band of would-be captains face up against not only a number of treacherous characters, but of a possibly greater threat from the past. And before one says that much of the initial premise sounds strangely similar to Fukasaku's Street Mobster produced one year later, one would have to agree- but what makes this two sided coin of Yakuza films so special, is in how they spiritually aim to better understand two generations caught in the malestrom of the post war Japan experience. With Sympathy, Fukasaku's last movie with favorite, Koji Tsuruta in the lead, it is something of an elegy to a time that had only so long to live. Much more cool-headed and meticulous than the pure blazing anarchy of Street Mobster, this is a movie that both explores the pride, and perhaps even soul of the outsiders looking to make a mark despite the encroaching odds.

Also unlike Street Mobster, we are given just enough coverage regarding those coming along for the ride. Including the passionate youngsters , and even a battle-hardened family man, the film takes on more of a classy ensemble piece. Alongside Gunji and his gang, is Kudo (played brilliantly by one-time-real gang member, Noboru Ando, also in Street Mobster) who's outsider nature makes for an interesting wild card for them. And true to older forms, the narrative begins not unlike a classic caper film, allowing for scenes of planning between these characters. Which is how we are introduced to those who would rule the docks of Naha, and those lesser lieutenants working the smaller beats. These are cooler cats who are calm & collected, but erupt with great fury in short, effective doses.

So once Gunji and company begin to make their big moves within Naha's nightlife leaders, not only does the danger level rise, but the questions of worth in the entire operation begin to appear. It isn't very long before these seemingly nostalgic streets begin claiming victims, forcing Gunji and his men to reassess their choices. The loss of one big mover within this smaller than usual infrastructure opens up a world of trouble in the form of long boiling envies, long hoping for their share of the island community. Suddenly, this great assumption of Okinawa being the last truly free-market becomes a stage for a final showdown of ideologies, and splintered allegiances. A slow, creeping sensation begins to form that there is little where else to go, and that men of Gunji's stature and temperament are destined for merely stories in the future.

Having heard that Fukasaku was inspired largely by The Battle Of Algiers makes a great deal of sense when considering the choice of Okinawa, and everything it entails within the piece. With the central gang looking toward a new world of success in a land untouched by the corporate assimilation process in Yokohama, themes of displacement sink in when they discover that not all is hopeful and pleasant off the mainland. Even Gunji's prostitute companion/echo from days past laments life in Naha, and that there's little else for anyone to do here to survive. (In an interesting counterpoint to Mayumi Nagisa's character in Street Mobster, she seems well within her faculties to be her own person, just at the mercy of what fate has dealt her.) There also seems to be a grand concern regarding colonialism embedded here, not to mention the eradication of any sort of self-made individual within the criminal set. It is as if Gunji's gang remains the last of a more colorful time on a collision course with the growing mass of dark suits and ties that has inspired the major look of the Daitokai.  A ragtag bunch of passionates versus an all-consuming hive mind.

While every bit as bloody as Street Mobster came to be, there is a more contemplative game plan within Sympathy that perhaps even strengthens how we view Sugawara's unforgettable mad dog character in that film. By looking into Tsuruta's Gunji, we are looking into a generation scarred by the last days of war, reaching its sunset, longing for a respectful resting place. Those growing up throughout the end of World War II, saw much to repair and reconsider, while characters like Street Mobster's Okita were born in the sprawling confusion that came in years after. Both generations having little understanding of one another, and yet inextricably linked by way of the tide. While both are ready to go down fighting, one has clearly ruminated what is being lost, while the other cannot see much beyond the flames of conflict itself. While not necessarily portraying the gangs of old in a flattering light, Fukasaku's curiosity about a life alongside them, even in their final throes cannot be understated.

Street Mobster (1972) Movie Review

The moment Okita found himself out of the joint, the world outside had changed dramatically, right down to even how gang life operated. Ten years had indeed done quite a bit to Japan, one wonders how a street tough like him could even remotely fit in. And in Kinji Fukasaku's brutal character study, it's all about things that could never be. Bunta Sagawara makes an indelible impression as a product of much more fist-to-face era in Post-War Japan at odds with the more ingrained reality of the late 1960s. With a main character who's constant sneer toward authority, and impossible to snuff rage at any and all around him, the audience can only wonder just how far the film is willing to go in regards to his inner savagery without cutting away to some semblance of safety. It's the chinpira drama that helped pave the way for Fukasaku's Yakuza Papers series to come to fruition, and it's a merciless one at that.

For those unfamiliar, Fukasaku's films became well known for their unflinching look at the outsiders, the wandering souls still reeling in the years after WWII, often into violent lives, filled disastrous decisions, and tragedy befalling even those nearest. Not unlike Blackmail Is My Business, the film takes a look at the life of one unwilling to easily fit into the new Japan, and ready to take on larger forces they are wholly unprepared for, and incapable of understanding. This time, instead of the Japanese governmental infrastructure, it is the hierarchy of the contemporary Japanese underworld, where allegiances are tenuous, and face is everything. Whereas many other filmmakers of the era often portrayed the gangster as something of a folk hero, Fukasaku was unafraid to call out a harsher reality to matters, often portraying his characters as conflicted, and even completely unsympathetic to a whole new generation of filmgoers. And Street Mobster does this with the grit and grime still fresh on its coattails decades later as Okita attempts to make a name for himself in a world simply not fashioned for him, despite what seems to be working for him in the moment (a place Okita only seems to live in, while simultaneously being locked in an endless time loop).

Practically programmed to rape and beat at will, Okita is poised to meeting his destiny by way of some bizarre turns during his one-man campaign to regain what he claims is his. Almost immediately, he is granted his own little gang of underlings who offer him a girl for the evening, only to the startling realization that his "gift" was amongst one of his many victims in the salad days. A country girl, now a prostitute, Kinuyo (Mayumi Nagisa) begins what can only be described as a tormented relationship with Okita after this chance encounter. At once deeply scornful of his terrible nature, and yet violently jealous when pushed aside, Kinuyo is in many ways not unlike him in that no matter the circumstance, they are inextricably self-destructive despite the potential surrounding them in a nation now ready to embrace something resembling a "normal" existence. All of this comes to a head when it is learned that the two largest power players on the streets are what stands between Okita and possible glory.

Enter Fukasaku's hidden gut punch in the form of rival gang leaders, now owning and running large business sections of the city, often with buildings overlooking the organic spoils of modern success. With the slightly still rough around the edges Takigawa running his gambling establishments et al on one side, and the cool-headed businessman, Yato (Noboru Ando) on the other within his glass tower. Quickly after essentially bailing the loose-cannon Okita on more than one occasion, Yato takes him under his wing, granting him a place within the organization to the behest of many around him. The now calm, collected leader sees a reflection of his more rough & tumble past in him, and sees potential despite all the nattering happening on both sides, clueless as to why he would give such a hopelessly two-bit sociopath such a shot. It is within the endless turmoil that occurs here, that allows Street Mobster to be more than merely another exercise in anti-hero melodrama, but rather a requiem for a Japan that has become something where the rage has been put on permanent boil, rather than made to face itself- to the detriment of all involved.

Bringing to life such a character study could have easily become something designed only for those eager to wallow in the muck of it, but Fukasaku, Sugawara and company make the film into a surprisingly potent human affair in that it somehow balances the anarchy of Okita's life with the lives that share it to startling effect. The director's signature freeze frames, disorienting action shots, and rapid editing are well intermingled with the often very busy blocking often making the frame a lively one from frame one to the last. And Sugawara's portrayal of an out-of-time loser is strangely compelling, not to mention iconic of a day when unbridled passion could get one far suddenly faced with a radically systemized world, ready to consume his energy whole in the name of progress. An easy film to dismiss for being too bleak, but ultimately far too potent to resist.

The Endless Envy: Battle Royale At 12

Initially had zero plans to write up anything regarding Thursday night's screening continuation of Cinefamily's unprecedented weeklong engagement  of Kinji Fukasaku's classic swan song, Battle Royale, but it didn't take long for the thought to spring forth to do so, especially due to the events happening around the film. Upon arriving, and subsequently waiting in line outside the retrofitted/resurrected Silent Movie Theater on Fairfax near downtown Los Angeles, I found myself surrounded by an impressive turnout for a foreign film, let alone one that has been such a phenomenon of the internet for nearly twelve years as of this event. One would think that such popularity in internet years would experience some kind of dropoff..Not so here in the slightest. But once the clock hit around twenty five minutes before the doors would be opened to allow us entrance to the movie house, something happened that came very close to causing such numbers to be decimated in quick measure.




 We were notified by Hadrian, the proprietor that their digital projector had apparently burnt itself out, and that they were being forced to delay the screening by roughly an hour as a reploacement was being rushed our way from Echo Park! And to be completely frank, this was a moment where part of me felt compelled to walk away. Having owned the film in multiple formats, and having already seen it in a large audience, there was little reason keeping me from soldiering on and waiting another hour to watch a film I had already seen surrounded by complete strangers. Initial plans was to go to this screening with perhaps another to bounce ideas off as BR is often want to do whenever I watch it with company. And since there was little else but perhaps the mere opportunity to see what form this version of Battle Royale would be, there was little keeping me motivated to stay.

Then I overheard people around me, and it hit me..After twelve years of almost complete internet saturation (or so I had long imagined), there were many in attendance who had not seen the film. And that alone, was enough to double-motivate me to stay. There is something inherently thrilling about the idea of a BR cherry. It has been so long since I myself could ever count myself as one of those. The film has within it, and incredible power that almost always leaves a lasting impression on those who see it for the first time. Much like the shockwave that rushed through the kids within the first thirty minutes of the film, the audience is often confronted with the book/film's wildly perverse premise, and are immediately either repelled, or inescapably transfixed by it. The film remains utterly incapable of leaving anyone inert, or indifferent. And the thought that a room that was at least 40% comprised of those new to the experience became quite the attractive thought. Add the influence of no traditional codes regarding alcohol in a movie theatre, and possibly even another Mondo Mix created by the folks at the Cinefamily, things just became that much more potentially exciting.

As hoped, the Mondo Mix was their Xmas themed one, and damn if it wasn't terrifying. And not for the scenes culled from the Silent Night, Deadly night film series, but for the inclusions of Tanglefoot & Shouji Tabuchi. (You can look them up...To explain here would kill the fun.)

And then came the new projector, and a crisp, high-definition presentation of...

                                                Battle Royale: Special Version

My night wasn't so much shot, as it was more mildly disappointed in the sense that someone either didn't check the difference between versions, or has some kind of preference for a version of a film I believe to be inferior to the original cut. For those unfamiliar, Battle Royale's smash hit status in Japan prompted Toei to invest in additional scenes to be shot for a rerelease edition of the film several months later. And the footage largely centers on a recurring flashback of a basketball game which is supposed to reinforce the relationships in the film, as well as offer a slightly more heartfelt denoument to the brutality exhibited on the island where the majority of the story takes place. The problem is that pacing gets hurt immensely by this footage, and it often elicited laughs from nearly everyone I have ever shows it to over the years, and deservedly so. Much of the added footage grants little to no real meat to the proceedings, and often overdramatizes many of the film's already hyperbolic emotions. They are more reminiscent of some of Fukasaku's son (and BR screenwriter) Kenta, and his great weaknesses as a writer which almost completely marr the deeply inferior Battle Royale II. It doesn't help that many of the actors were seemingly moving on from shooting the film when they were called back in, sporting slightly older looks in keeping with the fact that the movie uses real teenagers, who will go through the expected growth spurts, making these  scenes look double-awkward to the extra attentive. All we get with Special Version are these flashbacks, some "enhanced" CG bloodshed, and a few additional shots that add nothing to the narrative to the point of being distracting. In all, it's a much lesser version of the movie that should never really be the first way a newbie should experience such an amazing piece of work.

So do I still love the film? Emphatically, yes. It remains one of my personal favorite movies despite its myriad of flaws. There is so much passion, energy, and rage at work in this film that never washes away, mainly due to having among the most entertaining opening thirty minutes of any movie I have ever seen. Taking such an across the board kick to the head philosophy as this film adopts as a backbone of the plot, while still not completely sanitizing some of the more grotesque elements of Koshun's novel. It remains a brilliant intermingling of post Slasher film, seishun eiga, and sports drama with a dash of political horror that holds little sacred, and common sense in less regard. Being a product of its time, the often reeling impact of protracted economic recession, and near panicked impasse between the young and old continues to shine brightly in Japan as the elderly population continues to grow at an increasingly accelerated rate, and youth violence has reached untold highs. One can easily see a film like this being blamed for such an increase, but upon closer inspection, Fukasaku's film deviates quite a bit from the novel, in that the use of "weapons" serves as a much more potent metaphor for what it is we take with us as we move into adulthood despite our childish desires. It takes a more responsible approach, despite perhaps making the Kitano Takeshi character a little puzzlingly forced. Despite this, Fukasaku's message remains beautifully clear for future generations. Whether it be education, a hidden talent, or the ability to empathize with another person, these are BR's greatest weapons. What happens with them may not always bear intended results, but they often are what grant us greater meaning in the world. The film's questioning of both how brutal it is to be a kid, and how so many so-called grown-ups seem to have not learned anything while imposing so much on the coming generations is at the heart of matters, and it remains as powerful as ever.

 

Special Thanks To VCinemashow & Cinefamily for making last night possible!

Blackmail Is My Business (1968) Movie Review

Being bombarded by nearly a week's worth of new films in no way diminishes the impact of this still-stunning, colorful early Kinji Fukasaku piece centering of the life of one ambitious, seemingly untouchable blackmail artist, and his small "family" of chinpira ("directionless punks") accomplices. Moving from mark to mark (and mostly small fry criminals), the quartet consisting of the charismatic leader, Shun (Hiroki Matsukata), his old buddy Seki (Hideo Murota), half-Japanese fighter, Zero (Akira Jo), and the alluring Otoki (played by Tomomi Sato), we catch up with their exploits through way of flashback early on which showcases Shun as a down on his luck clean-up guy at a local dive when he stumbles upon a bootlegging plot, and is eventually roughed up for not keeping quiet about it. Almost immediately, this spirals the toilet-cleaning nobody, and those nearby into a pact that steers them toward making new, and continuously more dangerous targets. From infiltrating secret pornography rings, to various other shady dealers throughout the city, it seems like Shun and company have found their place well on the outside of reconstruction era Japan. But when such reckless rebellion faces the corruption nestled deep within the nation's infrastructure, can anyone survive its wrath?

Before redefining the yakuza drama, Kinji Fukasaku was playing wildly with the conventions of the crime dramas which were being made indelible at the time by trailblazers like Seijun Suzuki & others. But this deceptively simple tale of wayward youth bares some prophetically harsh teeth when the story gets dicey. True to what would become one of his trademarks, his anti-heroes often breathe in the promise of success by gaming a system they assume to understand, only to be systematically choked by unexpected truths within it. The techniques displayed here are fiercely experimental in places, and often come off as ahead of their time with his uses of freeze-frame, color control, and other touches that would eventually become signature. Creating something of a life document/testament to a growing feeling of apathy to the point of invincibility that perhaps Fukasaku saw in the world around him as a great mistake. The first half or so of the film almost seems to be glorifying the cool of his characters as if to lure the audience in, which is betrayed once Shun is revealed to be a womanizer of the worst kind when he questionably establishes a relationship with a popular film actress Natsuko Mizuhara (Yoko Mihara), and when he and his company discover potential glory in retrieving a memorandum capable of not only great wealth, but of exposing a swath of double-dealing at the very heart of the society they so seem hell bent on one-upping. Piece by piece, the film unveils the revelation that such aimless rebellion can only end in tragedy, and that what has been put in place since the beginning of the post-war period requires something a lot less naive.

The film's style and aggressiveness aside, the performance of Matsukata is possibly its most memorable legacy as it creates a terrific analogue to a certain sense of invulnerability that was likely very visible in Japanese youth at the time. After years of seeing movies portray the life of gamblers and thugs as something exciting and even honorable, with so much prosperity seemingly in abundance, it was likely very easy to get caught up in all of it, and Shun seems like a classic case of it. After not having found himself within more traditional means, this recently discovered talent of his seems like the gold mine that has eluded him for long enough. The feeling of being beyond what he considers beneath him, and unwilling to avoid flaunting his talents makes for a troubling, yet strangely sympathetic portrayal as it soon becomes clear what he is neglecting in the process. This is especially obvious when regarding his one-dimensional relationship with actress Mizuhara, which only seems tailor made for the movies(the artifice made clear as he helps her rehearse a scene while on a getaway trip), while the looks he exchanges with partner, Otoki, seem natural, flawed and ultimately real. He can briefly taste the life, but can only maintain the real with his little gang who have become something of a family unit.

So when Fukasaku tightens the screws on Shun and his gang, it almost waits until the final moments to truly deliver on the growing cloud of nihilism that has developed over the film's latter third. And when it explodes, it is a truly memorable delivery with nary a brass-knuckle hit pulled. It's quintessential Fukasaku, and it remains as potent now as likely as it ever has.

New Combo Attack!!: 10 Years Of Battle Royale

 

                                                                         It's Here...

Seriously, this conversation has been a long time in coming. The bunch of us at Combo Attack!! finally came together to share thoughts, and reminisce about the unrivaled shock & awe of Kinji Fukasaku's thrilling swan song, Battle Royale. We cover quite a bit, including the concept, characters, origins, as well as some more assorted geekage expected from this decorated trio of pop culture vultures.



A truly fun episode as it was to record, it was a nightmare to edit, but the end result is something I can say is worthy among the very best episodes we've come up with thus far.

BE WARNED: This is a **SPOILER MELEE** episode of Combo Attack!!, so we warn that if one is not familiar to the film, to please catch it when possible. Or, should you be curious as to how audacious the film still is..then by all means.




Fight or Flee?

And

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Some Words Regarding Battle Royale 3D & Anchor Bay's News

Oh boy. It was only a matter of time before I had a chance to share feelings on this. Seeing as how Toei wasn't going to skimp out on making even more money off of one of their biggest releases. And they have an all-too-willing Kenta Fukasaku at the ready to shill his father's (the late, great Kinji Fukasaku) final completed work for a tenth anniversary. We just knew that something like a Japanese equivalent to the US 3D upconversion boom that came about in the wake of AVATAR was bound to happen if they couldn't muster up the will to create a wholly new film in 3D themselves. Harsh words, I agree. But the fact remains that the original Battle Royale film, while awash in arterial spray & hyperviolence (between kids, no less) was filmed in a most old-school Panavision style that only feels fit on a 2D plane.

The very idea of it being retouched without his father present is the first of what I suppose troubles this writer. Had Kinji lived to see this day, and had gone along with it, I would have gone ahead and allowed him his Jorge moment. But as it stands, I suppose this makes perfect sense as Kenta (who penned BR's screenplay, based on Takami Koshun's surprise hit novel) has shown himself to be nothing less than a schlockmeister with only name recognition, and access to slightly higher budgets than say, Noboru Iguchi, who's films are done with near nothing, and are infinitely more effectively entertaining. (personal note: My breaking point with young Fukasaku was his version of Sukeban Deka, featuring idol, Aya Matsuura. Submitted my papers promptly after.) So at least Kenta knows where he is coming from.

But for such an immense experience as BR still is, this is still nothing less than naked opportunism. Far more exploitative than many may accuse the film of actually being, and well below the film's ability to shock, even today.

And as for Nippon Cinema's post regarding the long-delayed acquisition of the Battle Royale films (1 & Kenta's ill-fated 2) via legendary horror-friendly company, Anchor Bay, I still feel as if this is another major case of too-little-too-late. All release controversy aside, the original BR has had an entire ten years to flourish as an import (and likely notoriously popular download), even going so far as to being a staple of Hot Topic for nearly five years now. So a release like this, while welcome, feels a lot less a reason to celebrate, so much as a reason for most western BR fans to merely shrug at it. Truth is, that multiple companies have been selling English-Subtitled versions of these films for years (including the Battle Royale SE releases, with additional scenes, and behind the camera footage.).

So yes, Toei found another way to round up the cash cow for another ride (I'm sure the bidding numbers were absurd.), but seeing as how BR has possibly become the first true internet cult phenomenon of the 2000s, I'm not sure why it's any real shakes.