by Victor Pryor
WHAT’S IN THE DARKNESS
Once you’ve seen the film, it’s very difficult to see the title What’s In The Darkness as anything other than somewhat misleading. While this film bills itself as a mix of Diary of a Teenage Girl and Diary of a Serial Killer, there’s far more ‘Teenage Girl’ than ‘Serial Killer’. But it’s so awesome that anybody would even think to put the two together in the first place that it seems wrong to complain, somehow.
Indeed, this is very much a coming of age drama with a backdrop of ritualistic serial murders. Taking place in the early 90s, What’s In The Darkness is the story of Qu Jing, a young girl in a small, backwater village, who is just beginning to feel the pangs of incipient womanhood, and finds her interest piqued by the sexual nature of the murders of young women in the area. Her father, Lao Qu, is a deeply intelligent and analytical police officer who is desperately trying to solve the murders, hampered mainly by a police department that favors beating confessions out of suspects to actual investigating.
In the scenes with Lao Qu, one can see the more expected version of the film: his opening scene, where he divines the less-than-impressive quality of a butchers supply of chicken meat with just a cursory glance, established him as a man with a reputation for both deductive genius and being a pain in the ass to everyone around him. When the next killing occurs, and Lao Qu has to spend more time keeping his fellow officers from stomping all over the evidence than actually getting a chance to decipher what the evidence means, it seems like we’re all set to follow the story of a dogged detective trying to solve a crime in the face of institutional incompetence and laziness.
But while that story is surely there, it seems almost incidental to the actual story the director wants to tell, which is that of a young girl trying to find her way in a society that has no patience, understanding or tolerance for her needs.
Qu Jing is a curious little sponge, hungry for any morsel of information about what’s happening to her body, but trapped in a time and place where such things are all but inaccessible. She eventually finds a slightly more experienced friend, Zhang Xue, to act as her mentor. Zhang Xue is older, more sophisticated and (it’s implied, but never specifically stated outright) sexually active. She’s also the daughter of Lao Zhang, a fellow cop that doesn’t exactly have the warmest relationship with Lao Qu.
How will all of this play out in the wake of more murders?
Kind of exactly how you’d expect, only less so.
Considering how little effort is put into the serial killer aspect of the story, it’s a blessing that the ‘Coming of Age’ parts are the most compelling. The backdrop of 90’s era rural China provides a unique setting for this kind of story, where many of the aspects of incipient maturity we in America take for granted are treated. There have been many scenes in these types of movies where a bunch of horny teens gather in secret to try and watch watch a porno tape. But the specificity of the details, such as how they have to borrow the VCR, and only have an hour to watch and return the tape, and how the scene basically ends with Government intervention… that’s the sort of thing that makes Darkness special.
There’s something so interesting about the way something as simple as going to a hair salon, or having your nail painted becomes this exotic, alien rite of passage. Qu Jing spends multiple scenes slathered in a ridiculous amount of makeup, and what starts out as a cute sight gag becomes increasingly affecting each time we see it.
And it’s spearheaded by great performances all around. Guo Xiao is fantastic as Lao Qu, capturing both the deep desire for justice and the aggravating nature of his inability to. Zhao Fei is funny and tragic as a lovelorn teen playing at being a tough guy. As the mostly quiet Zhang Yue, Lu Qiwei does an impressive job of silently conveying that she’s not as worldly as she wants or even pretends to be. And Wei Jujin shines in a small but memorable role as Jing’s hilariously irritable teacher.
But Su Xiaotong is the glue that holds it all together. Her Qu Jing is a singular creation, wholly unable to hide her curiosity or her deep yearning for things she can’t even begin to comprehend. Whatever flaws it has as a thriller are wholly made up for in moments where Jing brushes up against the limits. There’s a scene towards the end of the film where Jing goes to see some kind of erotic romantic drama, and her reaction to what she sees onscreen is something special.
As serial killer movies go, What’s In The Darkness probably doesn’t rate particularly highly (even though the ending has some very bleak implications that the movie seems to have either no time for or no interest in). But as a chronicle of a young girl’s awakening, it’s a fascinating and occasionally touching work.
KIYAMACHI DARUMA
Whenever a movie with a synopsis like Kiyamachi Daruma rears its fully functional head, there is a temptation to recommend it while going into as little detail as possible, to preserve the shock factor. And the casualness with which the film deploys its premise has to be jaw droppingly surreal and horrific for the uninitiated. But while the logline for the film is undeniably outrageous and grotesque, the film itself is a very different animal indeed.
Suffice it to say that Mr. Katsuraa, the title character as it were, is a former Yakuza boss who, after being betrayed by former friend Satoshi, is inflicted with a fairly severe handicap that renders him only useful for debt collecting jobs. Sakamoto, his reluctant yet dutiful babysitter/nursemaid uncovers a long held secret about Satoshi that challenges his ability to be impartial and maintain his loyalty to his bosses.
Grand Guignol touches aside, this is very much a typical Yakuza film. Discussions of loyalty and honor, weighing the virtues of vengeance versus duty, and the occasional insight into the economics of modern mobsterism (it’s an underlying theme there’s very little difference between the Yakuza and the supposedly more “legitimate” banking industry. But there’s a couple of interesting thematic touches that bear noting. First, there’s the fascinating biological aspect. This is a film that’s very concerned with the body and its frailties. It would be a little much to invoke early Cronenberg, but what the hell? Let’s just throw it out there and see what happens.
Besides the nature of Katsuura’s injuries, there is the small role of Satoshi’s ex girlfriend, who happens to be deaf. This never really plays into the plot, and remains mostly unremarked upon by the other characters; it’s merely a detail that doesn’t define the character, just as it doesn’t define real life sufferers. In that sense, the idea of deformity, impairment, or disabilities are normalized; there’s shock value in the setup, to be sure, but not nearly as much as you’d expect in the follow-through.
In addition, there’s a mild fixation on bodily function that weaves its way throughout the narrative: director Hideo Sakaki does not skimp on the details of how life works for a person in Katsuura’s condition, nor does he pull his punches when it comes to the messiness of human biology. In the case of Houka Kinoshita’s portrayal of the deeply depraved mobster Kaneuchi, one could say he revels in it…
Less outrageous perhaps, but just as interesting is the idea of legacy, and people as property. Without stating it outright, there’s a certain recurring assertion that the very act of participating in a capitalist system comes with the possibility of becoming nothing more than a tradeable commodity. In the case of our ostensible hero Sakamoto, this is illustrated by the revelation that he was basically forced to be a Yakuza due to his father’s debts. But it’s even more explicit (in all sorts of ways) with the subplot involving Yuri (Rina Takeda, finding the sweet spot between pitiable and horrifying), who is sold into slavery to pay off her father’s debts in the opening scene. Her tragic downward spiral implicates everyone involved in creating this world, even our heroes (especially our heroes). No one gets away clean.
But, putting aside lofty critical readings, and focusing in on the film itself, and more specifically its performers, let’s take a moment to give it up for Kenichi Endo, who gives a monumental physical and emotional performance as the titular character. The Katsuura we meet in the opening scene is a far different beast than the one we see at the end, or indeed in the very next scene. And Endo does a magnificent job of delineating between the maniacal, brutally minded enforcer he embodies to his victims and the quiet, dignified reality with which he comports himself in his actual life. They both seem a part of the same whole.
At heart, there isn’t too much that Kiyamachi Daruma does that’s all that different from what you might see in any other Yakuza flick. But the things it DOES do different … well, they’re really quite something.
Recommended for fans of both Japanese gangster movies and grievous bodily harm…
