A bi-weekly deep dive into the world of Japanese V-Cinema courtesy of Arrow Film’s comprehensive set
This week for my Bi-Weekly V-Cinema roundup courtesy of Arrow’s V-Cinema Essentials: Bullets & Betrayals are two very different films that showcase both the depth and breadth of this Japanese sub-genre.
First up is 1991’s Stranger, the sole V-Cinema entry by Shunichi Nagasaki. Right off the bat the film breaks with a few conventions of these films with a female star that’s older than the usual 18-25 year threshold for these films and who doesn’t have a nude scene. That being said, the feminist thriller is the story of Kiriko (Yûko Natori), a young woman who as we begin the film is working at a bank and helping her lover embezzle money, in the first 10 minutes she is also arrested irreparably changing the course of her life forever. We then catch up with her several years later, now working in one of the few professions available to someone with a criminal record in Japan: a night shift taxi driver.
Kiriko is trying to start her life over again, but she is being stalked by someone in a black Toyota Land Cruiser. It’s easy to see that this film loves its metaphors, when Kiriko is being arrested and she drops an expensive new pair of Ray-Bans on the street, that are quickly run over and shattered just like her life in that moment. This film is about the young woman who is now past her prime thanks to her incarceration, who is trying to leave her past behind in a country where not only is she a felon, but a female one. This becomes shockingly apparent when she attempts to get help from the police and the officer’s questioning quickly turns from sympathetic, to suspicious after seeing her record. There’s also the component that she will only drive at night, which appears to be her leaving the light of her former life behind in fear of running into her friends in the dark.
While at first Kiriko appears stubborn in her inability to accept help from those around her, its just to hammer home that she has to let go of her past, which is symbolized by this stalker to truly move on. The fact that this stalker may be just some weird manifestation, that only she can see, is something that shockingly isn’t lost on her. Given the pure shot of testosterone that was Crime Hunter, Stranger is an equally engaging film, but for a much different demographic. While the symbolism is about as subtle as a sledgehammer, it’s a direct to video film that deals out some great scares with a very feminist slant. Stranger is a moody little thriller that knows exactly what its assignment is, manifested by a rather impressive performance, by its no-nonsense female lead.
Next up was 1991’s Carlos, a yakuza film that is touted as one of the best to come out of the sub-genre. The hyper violent gangster flick was no doubt an influence on Takashi Miike who would tackle similar themes in his films with the Yakuza, not only employing, but having to hold their own against foreign killers. Given Japan’s isolationist nature, it’s rare that you see their xenophobia openly portrayed on celluloid in such a way, but Carlos features a rather diverse rogues gallery for a Japanese Yakuza film written and directed by the Mangaka who created the original source material. When a couple of Japanese Yakuza try to shake down Carlos (Naoto Takenaka) and his Brazilian crew, they kill the pair of Yakuza and by doing so incite a gang war that has the sadistic foreigner playing both sides against one another.
Having seen more than my share of Yakuza flicks, Carlos works so well, because similar to Ichi the Killer you have this group of foreigners that don’t have to adhere to Yakuza code. Because of that they have the tactical advantage and it is definitely used to amp up the violence, due to Carlos’ being on the run from Columbian authorities. It’s watching these foreigners operate in this “other” space in Japanese organized crime and culture, I found completely fascinating. Even as a third generation immigrant from Brazil, Carlos is very much treated as an outsider by the Japanese Yakuza around him, which definitely fuels his contempt and eventual rampage throughout the film. A white assassin also shows up played by musician James Fujiki, who is also employed by the Yakuza and further highlights their underestimation and contempt for foreigners that ultimately becomes their undoing.
Stylistically Carlos is also a treat, not just for the action, but It’s very apparent from the use of the frame, that Carlos was directed by the Mangaka. There’s a rather impressive weight put on the composition of the frame and its subjects, and how everything from the violence to the Yakuza meeting are framed to help elevate the material. This is compounded by a rather experimental score that really sneaks up on you with an etherealness that’s unexpected as it is unnerving. Carlos reputation is well deserved, sure it’s hyper-violent, but there’s a lot more going on there than a gang war and for that it’s another great addition to the set.
