A grandiose orchestra plays together with a dark and soaring choral ensemble as a news helicopter arrives loudly to the scene. An overtly excited newscaster tells us of a class of 9th graders chosen for a fiercely contested game whose rules we’ve yet to learn. Taken to the scene in a military vehicle by armored soldiers and swarmed by the press, a small girl in school uniform holds on to her doll as the newscaster reports that she is the winner. Covered head-to-toes in blood, the girl slowly raises her face and eerily smiles for the cameras in a series of jump cuts and flashes. This introductory scene shockingly sets the tone of Fukasaku Kinji’s grim horror action thriller: Battle Royale (Batoru rowaiaru, 2000). Fifteen minutes later, we witness the first of over 40 gruesome deaths: an adult is shot through the eye, a girl is stabbed in the forehead, and a boy’s neck is made to explode by a collar triggered through radio waves. I warn you that Battle Royale is not the kind of movie you should be watching if you are weak of stomach, or if old samurai films are the most violence you can handle in a day.
It was precisely the violent nature of the storyline which drew much of the controversy surrounding the film and the large audiences that made it a hit. The movie has an R15 rating (restricted for those 15 years old and over), an apparently rarely used rating in Japan even for violent films.[1] Fukasaku who disliked the rating, attempted to have the censor board review it once more, but the film sparked controversy at the Japanese Diet who called it “crude and tasteless”, so he withdrew the request out of fear for more censorship.[2] Though I must agree with the censor board and the Japanese politicians due to the film’s graphic nature, the film did manage to be a box-office hit grossing the equivalent of $25 million USD in Japanese yen, spawning a sequel, a number of mangas, and a possible future Hollywood remake. Such a success is worthy—if not of some level of appreciation—at least of respect.
The story—which is a bit convoluted because of the enormous amount of characters—happens in an alternate dystopic Japan where unemployment, inflation, and government tyranny lead teenagers towards delinquency and rebellion. To placate the rebellious youth and instill fear, the government passes the Millennium Reform School Act forcing one randomly selected class of ninth grade students to compete in a game of death and survival against each other with real weapons on a deserted island once every year. This year’s chosen class is Class B; forty-four students each with their individual teenager insecurities and quirks.
The film maintains cohesion by focusing on two specific characters: Nanahara Shuya (Fujiwara Tatsuya) and Nakagawa Noriko (Maeda Aki); friends together with the rebellious Nobu (Kotani Yukihiro)—the previously mentioned boy whose collar explodes. Prior to the game, Nobu incites an uprising at school and stabs the school teacher Kitano (appropriately played by Kitano Takeshi) in the leg. Unbeknownst to the class the sadistic Kitano becomes the head of the Battle Royale Program and is the one who kills Nobu both out of revenge, and to make an example out of him. Once the game begins, Shuya and Noriko are morally correct characters who do not want to kill, thus they stay together out of friendship and support. However, not all their classmates think alike and soon the carnage begins. Some try to hide, some gang up to hunt the rest, and another small group attempts an elaborate plan to deactivate the collars. The storyline unfolds as Shuya and Noriko bump into the different groups of students, and how their interactions with them lead to acts of revenge, jealousy, a few times of love, and more than anything, gruesome deaths. Meanwhile, from his base of operations, the emotionless Kitano watches the game unfold every now and then informing the surviving students through speakerphones across the island of the growing number of dead.
The controversy that surrounds the story most positively comes not just from violence and gore, quite common in modern film times, but because the plot revolves around perfectly normal teenagers who go awry under extreme circumstances. Such scenes as when five of the schoolgirls kill each other after an incident with a poisoned soup intended for Shuya, highlights the kind of tonal shifts that happen all throughout the film. We pass from moments of simple schoolgirl chit-chat, where one of the girls Sugimura Hiroki is pressured to reveal her feelings for Shuya, to a moment of pure violence that a western director like Quentin Tarantino would love.
In an interview to Fukasaku, the 70 year old director commented that his film is nothing but a fable, a parable, a tale of caution meant to educate. However, we should ask who is the film attempting to educate? Fukasaku wants to emphasize a generational gap: adults vs. youth. He mentions in the interview the gap that existed between his own generation who fought the war, and the younger modern one: “since the burst of the bubble economy… adults, many of them salary men and working class people… most of them started to lose confidence in themselves. And the children who have grown up and witnessed what happened to the adults, their anxiety became heightened as well”.[3] Perhaps we should then consider that the violence in the film exemplifies an exaggeration of the horrid and awkward journey that is growing up and becoming an adult.
On the adult spectrum, the heartless Kitano becomes one of the most enigmatic and distressingly interesting characters of the film, because he illustrates the extremism and single-mindedness that often times comes with being an adult. To western audiences, the emotionless performance by Kitano Takeshi contrasts with his comedic appearances seen through reruns and dubs of the television show Takeshi’s Castle. The actor here plays the teacher Kitano completely straightforward; he is merciless, cold, calculating but at the same time dangerously unpredictable as he demonstrates at the beginning of the film when he delights himself in killing Nobu and one of the student girls. However, the teacher still serves a bizarre comedic purpose as his dialogue is ironic when he says things such as: “Sorry, it’s against the rules for me to kill isn’t it?”, or later on: “It’s tough when friends die on you, but hang in there”. Dressed in sweatpants, Kitano spends his time doing stretching exercises and eating cookies, while outside his base the most despicable acts of murder are carried by his command. At a determined point in the movie (which I won’t reveal or it could spoil the film); Kitano reveals a gruesome painting that he has drawn. It is of the island, covered in the butchered bodies of the students and surrounding a heavenly image of Noriko. Kitano says that it represents his hope that she will be the only survivor of the game. This strange relationship between him and Noriko is showcased at several points in the film, such as when he saves her from the mischievous Mitsuko (the school temptress and femme fatale) and strangely offers Noriko an umbrella to protect her from the rain. There’s one more bizarre one in which we see them both talk and eat ice-cream by an idyllic riverside enjoying each other’s company. The scene appears slightly washed out and happens in between two shots of Noriko and Kitano sleeping separately, as if to say that perhaps the riverside scene is a dream that they are both currently sharing. Kitano’s strange behavior, obsession with Noriko and passive aggressive behavior are a few of the things in Battle Royale that make it an interesting study on the psychology of deranged individuals, but it also begs a comment on the psychology of grown people who having lived through extreme circumstances, become immune or desensitized by acts of extremity.
There is no doubt that Fukasaku’s Battle Royale has become a staple of Japanese cult cinema, because of the extreme acts of violence portrayed between teenagers. An adherence to such a taboo subject—essentially demystifying the innocence of youth—in favor of a view that portrays the journey of becoming an adult as a nightmarish path towards intolerance and indifference. If the story is a tale of caution it’s probably effective for its shock value as a form catharsis, but we should begin questioning ourselves for the reasons that a small group of devoted fans—such as I—find such horrible things, so attractive. Have we simply just not changed at all from those years when say Romans forced slaves in gladiatorial combat? Is Fukasaku’s final comment that we as a race are simply violent by nature and no amount of reasoning or morality will ever change that? I pray it isn’t so.
[1] Leong, Anthony (2001). “Battle Royale Movie Review”. Issue 33 of Asian Cult Cinima. Retrieved 2007-01-08
[2] Mes, Tom and Jasper Sharp. “Midnight Eye interview: Kinji Fukasaku.” 9 April 2001. Midnight Eye. <http://www.midnighteye.com/interviews/kinji_fukasaku.shtml>.
[3] Mes, Tom and Jasper Sharp. “Midnight Eye interview: Kinji Fukasaku.” 9 April 2001. Midnight Eye. <http://www.midnighteye.com/interviews/kinji_fukasaku.shtml>.