Category: thriller

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action extreme literary adaptations thriller

Battle Royale: A Tale of Caution

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>.

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drama, melodrama gendai-geki thriller

Imamura’s “Vengeance is Mine”: Well-Crafted Nihilism

Imamura Shôhei’s 1979 crime thriller Vengeance is Mine (Fukushû suru wa ware ni ari) is a well-crafted and brilliantly-acted example of 1970s nihilism. Ogata Ken stars as Enokizu Iwao, the psychotic and womanizing protagonist of the film based on a real-life serial killer and swindler.

The film opens with the police having apprehended the now-notorious Enokizu and attempting to obtain a confession. The suspect is uncooperative but does little to maintain his innocence. He is calm and detached, making the occasional wisecrack. The title card appears to blaring music.

The viewer is then treated to two murders in a row, Enokizu’s first. They are shown in explicit detail and seem to lack motive. The whole rest of the film, excepting the very end, is told in further flashbacks, sometimes in nested flashbacks.

After the two murders, the film becomes something like a dark version of Spielberg’s more recent Catch Me If You Can; Enokizu travels around Japan scamming people out of money and occasionally killing them. One assumed identity, that of a professor, stays at a disreputable inn, and Enokizu becomes romantically—if it can be called that—involved with a prostitute, Haru, as well as acquainted with her depraved mother, Hisano.

Along the way, we meet Enokizu’s father, Shizuo, and wife, Kazuko, neither of whom are portrayed sympathetically. The film, in fact, lacks any sympathetic characters, excepting perhaps two detectives, who have limited screen time and whose colleagues in the police are literally unable to spot the killer with whom they are directly speaking. Sincere Catholic faith in both the Enokizu men does not prevent them from flying into homicidal rage—though the son ironically becomes enraged only at times when he is not committing murder. A flashback to Iwao’s childhood shows him already displaying the same rage. The viewer is thus left to conclude that there is no psychological explanation for Enokizu’s psychosis; he is simply congenitally evil. Imamura portrays the whole world as depraved, but among the characters in the film only Enokizu is compelled to go so far as to murder without reason.

Imamura almost explicitly parallels the emergence of an inexplicable evil like Enokizu to the perceived loss of innocence and optimism after the early 1960s. At one point, Enokizu is at the theater, and a bulletin from the police about the protagonist is preceded by a newsreel of JFK’s funeral. Juxtapositions like this, as well as the lead’s acting, elevate the movie beyond a simple exploitation flick.

Ogata is able to make an entirely unsympathetic protagonist engaging. Enokizu’s demeanour ranges from a chilling calm to violent rage to manipulative friendliness. Imamura has Enokizu almost always hide his face with glasses, but even on the occasions when he is without them, Ogata makes sure that the only thing the viewer can discern from Enokizu’s face is what Enokizu himself wants to display.

Imamura’s direction manages to be clinical with the occasional artistic touch. The director occasionally employs handheld shots for a slight cinéma vérité vibe, though this is used sparingly so that control is maintained. Each flashback is introduced with text crawls from the police reports on Enokizu. Shots of depravity are composed to show all details, as though they are intended to be incontrovertible evidence in a court case. By contrast, a shot of the detectives interviewing witnesses is framed in a long shot showing everyone at once, but obscured by being shot through a window barred like a prison cell. A couple of times Enokizu is in an apartment where a cord hangs from the ceiling like a miniature noose, further foreshadowing the fate that the viewer knows is coming from the start.

Vengeance is Mine is definitely not for everyone. On one hand, it is bleak and relentless in its depiction of violence and cruelty. There is little in the way of a profound sociological or political theme to gain from this cruelty beyond a cynical suggestion of incompetence on the part of the police. Indeed, perhaps the title should be interpreted as meaning “God only knows” what made Enokizu the way he is, knowledge, no less than vengeance, being impossible to obtain for mere mortals. On the other hand, while there is explicit sex and violence, this is spread out between long stretches of focus on ultimately fruitless examination of the killer between his killings, so the fan of slasher films will be unsatisfied. What makes the film worth watching is thus nothing else but the craftsmanship of Imamura and the controlled performance of the lead actor.

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film noir literary adaptations thriller

“Black Lizard” (1968): A Psychedelic Film-Noir

Black Lizard (Kurotokage, 1968) is a film directed by Fukasaku Kinji and based on Edogawa Rampo’s 1934 detective novel and Mishima Yukio’s stage adaption of the same title. Isao Kimura plays the famed detective, Akechi Kogorō, who works in a similar fashion to Sherlock Holmes, using his superb deduction skills to solve crime and outwit his opponents. However, the true star of the film is Murayama Akihiro, who plays the main antagonist, “Black Lizard,” an archetype femme fatale and the criminal mastermind that drives the whole story. Black Lizard is essentially a classic film noir, but also has a good dose of action, black comedy and romance, with enough surrealism that could classify it as borderline fantasy.

The premise of the film revolves around the Black Lizard’s plot to kidnap the beautiful Iwase Sanaye, and hold her for ransom against her father, a renowned jeweler, in order to obtain the legendary “Star of Egypt” diamond. Japan’s best private detective, Akechi Kogorō, is hired to help protect Sanaye and track down the Black Lizard. The rest of the film follows a cat-and-mouse chase between the famed detective and the Black Lizard, each edging the other out in a subsequent battle of wits. The Black Lizard also reveals a secondary motive for kidnapping Sanaye, and that is she wishes to embalm her and preserve her youth and beauty as part of her collection of human statues. Equipped with superhuman deduction skill, Akechi needs to find the Black Lizard’s secret lair and defeat her gang of misfits, which include two dwarves, a woman who controls snakes, and a hunchbacked henchman. Over the course of the chase and from their numerous encounters, sexual tension between the two rivals unexpectedly grows, and a forbidden romance begins to develop.

Drawing from the unusual ensemble of characters, Fukasaku Kinji used filming techniques that made Black Lizard almost feel like a comic book in motion. Beginning with the opening scene at the underground nightclub, the viewer is bombarded with psychedelic shades of red, blue and green that are not normally found in real life. Since in most scenes the backdrop is predominantly dark, anything with a hint of colour really stands out in comparison. For example, in the scene where Sanaye is once again kidnapped, the bright red lining of the box she is thrown in is so vivid in contrast to its surroundings that it makes it difficult to divert your attention elsewhere on the screen. In addition to the exaggerated colour scheme, Fukasaku also uses amplified sounds to bring the viewer’s attention to ordinary objects and build up suspense. An example would be in the scene where Akechi waits in the hotel room as the time specified by the Black Lizard draws near. The ticking of the clock gets significantly louder and louder, until that is all that can be heard. This not only serves as a literal countdown, but the volume of the clock also parallels the suspense growing in the audience.

The most standout aspect of this film is the use of a man in drag to play the female lead, the Black Lizard. This choice may sound perplexing at first, since the use of onnagata, men who were professional female impersonators, was considered outdated decades before the production of this film. However, Murayama Akihiro’s performance as a woman was not only good, but also extremely enticing to watch; unlike Hollywood films that often feature drags for comedic effect, this role was taken quite seriously. The Black Lizard was a woman who was both feared but also well respected by men. A kechi says it best when he describes a woman in his story (clearly reflecting the Black Lizard) that is seemingly cruel and ruthless, but also tenderhearted. Due to the combination of these masculine and feminine traits, perhaps it was decided that someone androgynous would best embody this. The Black Lizard’s true gender is never explicitly stated in the film, but this actually works in favour of the character’s sexual ambiguity. It was not a surprise to see her seducing a man in one scene, and revealing her attraction towards a young girl in the next.

Knowing that it was based on a novel by Edogawa Rampo, who was famous for his fictions in the mystery genre, I had high expectations for Black Lizard. I was not disappointed with the film, however, it did not really satisfy as a mystery. This is primarily because the audience is aware of who the perpetrator is from the get-go.  Nonetheless, I still found myself at the edge of my seat, wanting to know what was going to happen next and intrigued by the battle of wits between Akechi and the Black Lizard. I would recommend this film to others, but it does contain some content that could offend younger viewers, including very mild nudity, the subject of necrophilia and one particularly gruesome scene.

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drama, melodrama experimental thriller

Dunes of Darkness

Teshigahara Hiroshi’s Woman in the Dunes (Suna no Onna- 1964) is a surreal drama that uses the conventional captivity narrative to speak to contemporary social issues. The film could best be described as a contemporary drama, but the nature of the story is such of a thriller or a mystery. The film is an adaptation of the book of the same name by Kobo Abe, who also wrote the adaptation of the book for the screen. It stars well-known Japanese actor Eiji Okada as Niki Jumpei and Kyoko Kishida as the Woman. The film received critical acclaim when it was released, winning the Grand Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival and receiving an Academy Award nomination for Best Director.

The film opens with Niki Jumpei, a school teacher and entomologist, who goes to the barren seaside sand dunes on an expedition to find rare species of bugs. After missing the last bus back to his hotel, one of the villagers offers him a home to stay in for the night. He is dropped off in an unnamed woman’s home, located so deep in one of the sand dunes that a ladder is required to get down to it. The next day, Niki discovers that the offer of hospitality was in fact a ploy to find a male helper and mate for the woman, and he finds himself trapped in the sand dune with little hope of escape. Niki’s attempts to escape the sand dune fail and he remains trapped with the woman. We find out that the woman is under the control of the villagers, who require her to shove buckets of sand in exchange for water and food rations.  Due to their strange situation, the woman and Niki begin a sexual relationship. The Woman develops an intense sexual and emotional attachment to Niki, but his desire to return to his previous life persists. Niki does make one successful attempt at a getaway, but he is caught by the villagers who bring him back to the sand dune, an event that echoes the seeming permanency of his entrapment. Months pass before a series of events alter the future of Niki’s life in the dunes, and reveal a sharp alteration in his perspective.

Notable in the film is the way that Teshigahara creates atmosphere. The sand dunes are filmed in striking visuals that make them an overwhelming presence. Sand appears in the film in ways that give it symbolic and thematic meaning within the narrative. The introductory sequence in the film features a series of stationary shots of sand pebbles, at first in extreme close-up, cutting to reveal wider and wider shots of the sand until we see the whole mass of the dunes. The sharp stationary cuts bring attention to the sheer number and breadth of sand pebbles, suggest their uncontrollable power. When Niki enters the frame in the opening scenes he looks small in comparison to the foreboding and massive sand dunes around him. The sheer mass of the sand dunes rises up around him, blowing dust giving eerieness to this new environment. It serves to highlight the contrast between Niki’s former urban life in Tokyo and the harsh rural life he is soon to face. Sand also plays an important narrative role in the film. The futility of man against this wild and unpredictable form of nature is highlighted when Niki says: “This sand could swallow up entire cities, entire countries”. Although the sand is what is ultimately keeping Niki and the woman trapped and confined, we also find out that it helps to sustain them. We find out that the buckets of sand which the woman shovels and offers the villagers are ultimately sold to cities to make bricks for urban dwellings. Sand is used as a measure of control not only in the characters’ lives, but to help sustain the village economy as well. The sand also operates as somewhat of an allusion to the Buddhist tradition of creating and destroying sand mandalas, reflecting on the Buddhist belief of impermanence.

One of the questions the film poses centers on the ability of humans to exercise free will in modern society: is this freedom real or is it only an illusion that masks never-ending social confinement? This theme is mirrored by the different perspectives of Niki and the Woman. Niki’s entrapment is paralleled by the insects that he traps and collects at the beginning of the film. Just as Niki uses the insects for his own selfish purposes, the women and the villagers trap Niki to use him for labor and to help populate the community. At the beginning of the film Niki expresses a dissatisfaction with the ‘trappings’ of modern life in an internal monologue heard through voiceover. Despite this he still longs to return to his world of papers and certifications, which seems liberating in comparison with being trapped in a sand pit. Niki’s attitude is contrasted with that of the woman’s. The woman chooses to stay in village shoveling sand, as she feels more important in her life in the dunes than she would in regular society. Her reasons for staying in the dunes are revealed when she says “If it wasn’t for the sand, no one would bother about me”. For Niki the sand takes away his sense of purpose and meaning in life, but for the woman it constitutes it. Niki’s decision at the end of the film highlight this contrast between freedom and entrapment, and speaks to the true nature of free will.

Woman in the Dunes is a strange, absorbing mystery and a fascinating study of human character. The film cannot only be enjoyed for its human mystery, but as a visually stimulating experience in itself. The crisp black-and-white cinematography and moody lighting give viewers lucid and spellbinding visuals. Woman in the Dunes has often been described as ‘surrealist’ and would be a good film choice for viewers looking for an unconventional film that will challenge their expectations.

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drama, melodrama literary adaptations thriller

“Tengoku to Jigoku”: Heaven and Hell

Kurosawa Akira’s Tengoku to Jigoku, also known as High and Low, was based on a novel by Edward Mcbain. It was released in 1963. Kurosawa is widely famous for his samurai classics, but he was equally proficient at making High and Low which is a contemporary drama and thriller. The film is generally based on the lives of the people that live in completely different social statuses. Gondo Kingo (Mifune Toshiro), a wealthy executive, is torn between the decision of whether to help his driver’s son, Shinichi, who has been mistakenly kidnapped instead of Gondo’s son, Jun, or use the money to take over the shoe company. High and Low is considered the most morally black and white movie of all Kurosawa’s films. The police are depicted as the white since they are looked at as the protectors and the villain is looked at as totally black and evil.

The film mainly focuses on Gondo and the decisions he has to make. The kidnapper enjoys putting Gondo in a philosophical dilemma where he has to choose between being a good man and helping his driver’s son or moving forward with his plan to take over the shoe company which he had secretly planned for many years. His wife, Reiko (Kyoko Kagawa), tries to persuade him to pay the ransom since they have known the driver for a long time and she wants to help him. However, Gondo is reluctant since if he pays the ransom, he will go bankrupt and lose everything that he worked so hard to create. Gondo in the end decides to pay the ransom because he thinks that he will be able to make his own company again, but a life of a child cannot be replaced. While police and everyone around him try to persuade him to pay the ransom, his secretary Kawanishi (Tatsuya Mihashi) is opposed to the idea because Gondo promised him that he would give Kawanishi a high rank in the company if Gondo succeeds in taking over the company, so if Gondo loses everything, Kawanishi loses everything and he desperately does not want that. Therefore, Kawanishi ends up helping the other executives of the shoe company destroy Gondo by spying on Gondo and telling the other executives what Gondo is up to. The film gets thrilling as the police start finding evidence about the kidnapper and start narrowing down the suspects.

The film starts off with Gondo’s luxurious house which is on top of a hill. Here, Gondo’s house looks as if it is heaven compared to the houses that are on the bottom of the hill. When the Japanese title is directly translated it becomes Heaven and Hell, so in the film, Gondo’s house is looked at as Heaven and the people in the lower part of town live in Hell. The way Kurosawa uses the camera and the technologies that he uses are very interesting. There is a scene where pink smoke comes out of the chimney of the garbage disposal because the kidnapper burned the briefcase that had the ransom in it. This is very shocking because the film is a black-and-white movie but the smoke is coloured pink. This is the only time when colour is used. After the film was finished, Kurosawa coloured the smoke pink so the audience could see the colour. Kurosawa uses many vertical movements throughout the film. For example when Gondo opens the curtains of his house, slides the huge windows open and the scene with the bullet train.

Kurosawa uses various methods to show what is going to happen next. The dominant technique that he uses is the fadeaway or the overlapping of two figures. The most famous scene for this is when Gondo is at jail facing the person who is about to be executed. The culprit says that he is not scared of dying and does not regret what he did. When the culprit is making his speech, his figure overlaps with Gondo who is sitting in front from him. This might be showing that Gondo shares the same feeling with the culprit. Gondo acts like he is fine with starting from square one in the shoe business, but is at the same time scared because he does not know the hardships that awaits him.

High and Low generally does not have any disturbing scenes, but some may find the scene when the detectives go to the drug district disturbing. Other than that, most people would consider this film a masterpiece. Kurosawa only reveals evidence little by little, so the thrill of what is going to happen next is never lost. Also, the film is based on an English novel so it would not be so difficult for people who are not Japanese and do not know much about Japan to enjoy the film.

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extreme gendai-geki thriller yakuza

Thought-Provoking, yet Extremely Confusing, the Japanese Summer: “Double Suicide”

Japanese Summer: Double Suicide/ Night of the Killer (Japanese title: Muri shinju, Nihon no natsu), released in 1967, was directed by Oshima Nagisa and written by three writers, Tamura Takeshi, Sasaki Mamoru and Oshima Nagisa, who wrote Sing a Song of Sex (Nihon shunka ko), another Oshima Nagisa film. The main female actor Sakurai Keiko plays “Nejiko” and the main male actor Sato Kei plays, “Otoko”. This gendai-geki suspense-thriller seems to have had an impact from America’s race riots that were common in the 1960’s, bringing in the themes of sex and violence, life and death, through a series of interaction between the characters.

Nejiko is an 18-year-old girl who openly expresses her desires to have sex with just any man she meets. The opening scenes illustrate her abnormality within society, where she faces rejection from men in a political riot group as well as men in a religious cult group. The story moves when Nejiko picks up Otoko, a suicidal deserter who is looking for his perfect death, on the street. They move the scene to a beach, where Nejiko continues seducing him. Otoko is deeply trapped in his own thoughts about death, showing no interest in her approaches. Then, a group of uniformed yakuza men arrive on the beach to dig up a box full of weapons. Nejiko and Otoko are taken to the yakuza’s secret hideout as captives for witnessing the events. They are put into a room full of killers that include Omocha, a pistol loving old man, and Oni, a madman who finds joy in killing people with knives. Attracted by the violence, the killers have gathered from different parts of Japan in order to join the war of the yakuza. Soon, Shonen the gun-loving kid, TV and Tsukibito, the two men carrying a TV set, join the room filled with bloodthirsty men. Waiting anxiously for the next morning’s war, the characters discover through the TV that a young white Caucasian man is going around the city, randomly shooting and killing people. The men in the room are restless and anxious to kill, while Otoko searches for his perfect death, and Nejiko still continues to seduce the men in the room to sleep with her. The story dramatically changes pace when everyone discovers that they were all left behind by the yakuza and left with no yakuza war to fight in.

In the Japanese Summer: Double Suicide/Night of the Killer, Oshima Nagisa introduces a cultural parallel and connection between America and Japan, reflecting on a key theme of violence. Throughout the film, Shonen refers to the violence in America, especially of the riots occurring with the African-American population. Oshima Nagisa reflects on the social occurrence of the race riots, riots based on racial tension that were popular during the 1960s, showing the natural existence of violence in America. At the same time Oshima illustrates the abundance of violence in the room where they talk about these violent incidents, drawing a similarity between America and Japan. Also, Oshima introduces a young white Caucasian man that shares the thirst for violence. Through the stories on the TV, the Caucasian killer is portrayed to be a psychopath, but by the end of the film, his humane side becomes apparent. The Caucasian cries after receiving bread from Nejiko, helps Otoko carry Omocha after Omocha’s death, and fights alongside Shonen, showing a deeper level of understanding between the two characters. Oshima Nagisa points out violence to be a universal factor, occurring randomly and with universal understanding.

Another connection he created with violence was the corruption of the youth’s minds. In the opening scenes, while Nejiko’s abnormality is illustrated, Oshima introduces the social norms of the youth being the conformed and uniformed young men and women heading towards a political riot. Compared to such norms, Nejiko and Otoko, who appear on the same bridge, are much more free and natural. Furthermore, in the scene where Oni and Omocha are talking, they both recognize and understand Otoko’s passion towards death and Shonen’s passion to kill. The two killers agree that it was also in their youth when they were drawn into the world of killing. While the two killers were awakened at youth, Shonen, Nejiko, Otoko and the Caucasian killer, who are all in the midst of their troubling minds, are young. Oshima creates a definite connection between the youthful mind and corruption, showing such minds to be self-corruptive.

Japanese Summer: Double Suicide/Night of the Killer feels like an abstract representation of the sex and violence in the youth cultures of Japanese society. Despite the fact that the film was referred to as one of the best 10 films by Oshima Nagisa, I find it difficult to recommend to all viewers, especially for its violent content, containing offensive language, sex and nudity. As for the story itself, it was quite confusing what Oshima Nagisa wanted to do with the film. It was as if he wanted to show the corruption and violence in its purist forms, not including any meaningful message or plot to the film.

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