skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Series: Blade Of The Immortal - Volume 3
Release date: 10th January 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 100 mins
Director: Koichi Mashimo
Starring: N/a
Genre: Anime
Studio: MVM
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
The third volume of Koichi Mashimo’s Blade Of The Immortal anime, an adaptation of the manga series of the same name by Hiroaki Samura, brings the first series to a close with four climatic episodes.
The volume sees the immortal samurai Manji and Rin, the young girl he has vowed to protect, continue on their quest to find and kill the members of the Ittō-ryū to satisfy Rin’s thirst for revenge following the murder of her mother and father at the hands of the rogue dojo’s leaders…
In the first episode of the volume, the tenth of the series, Mask Of Change, our heroes take a welcome break from the action-packed slaughter of the previous few episodes and enjoy the surroundings of a festival. A chance encounter with a mask maker at the festival and his son leads to an unusual confrontation with one of the Ittō-ryū who raped Rin’s mother.
At times the dialogue in Blade Of The Immortal can become clunky in its unremitting attempt to be at all times profoundly exploring the meaning of life and death, revenge and forgiveness, yet the patient discussion over tea between Rin and Araya Kawakami is full of heartfelt truth on both sides and builds to a tense finale.
The viewers patience is paid off, too, as Manji arrives in time to bring his no-nonsense badass stab-first-talk-later attitude to bear in the next episode, and the fight at close quarters with short blades is just as exhilarating and well conceived in terms of animation and direction as any battle in previous episodes.
The animation continues to be solid and engaging, with clever tropes well used and not over-relied on, and the combat scenes imaginatively designed. As one might expect for an anime about an immortal samurai carrying such a vast array of sharp objects as Manji does, the series is no stranger to gushing blood and violence. However, the creative fight sequences, relieved by affecting exchanges of dialogue between the protagonists and those they meet on the road never allow the violence to become mundane.
This is particularly true in the concluding episodes of the volume when, having retreated to the country to train, Rin encounter’s Anotsu, the Ittō-ryū’s ambitious leader and the ruthless architect of her family’s murder. As in the previous encounter with the mask maker, the dialogue delves deeper in to the past and the reasons behind the Ittō-ryū’s rise to power.
One of the triumph’s of Koichi Mashimo’s adaptation of the story is his ability to build the tension to a simmer and keep it there, almost without being noticed, only to surge forth and award meditation with energetic fight scenes; his ability to engage the audience equally in the musings of Anotsu on the philosophy of the sword, as he does in the rampaging combat of Manji. Mashimo combines in Blade Of The Immortal both these stalwarts of samurai anime, and this volume will satisfy any true aficionado of the genre. A particular scene where Anotsu’s mastery of gentle violence, the paradox of fighting philosophy, is deftly demonstrated shows him slicing falling leaves with a colossal axe. The set piece is indicative of the whole volume: it looks cool, but suggests a little something to reveal below the surface. This suggestion comes from the presence of Rin who watches on unnoticed.
Blade Of The Immortal has more to offer beyond sword swinging and an appreciation of martial arts theory, and it is Rin who ties the combat scenes and an abstract admiration of the minutiae of swordplay to something more real. Her quest for revenge, her fluctuating self-doubt and assurance, make her the emotional heart of the story, acting as a foil to Manji’s jaded cynic, and thus driving him and the narrative forward. The interaction of the two gets a little more screen time in this unhurried volume, providing humour and a hint of affection, adding another layer to the slowly more complex characters.
Although the dialogue is suitably mystical and dreamy for the subject matter, it is sometimes overly so, and could do with pairing back slightly. So, too, with Kô Ôtani’s soundtrack; it helps to juxtapose the fighting and the more measured scenes of dialogue, and makes effectively haunting use of traditional shamisen music, yet it can be obtrusive, especially when the traditional makes way for modern driving guitar typical of anime combat.
The slight flaw of sometimes over-egging it is less prevalent in this final volume, which makes it all the more watchable as the charm of its animation, story and characters are allowed to shine the brighter.
Blade Of The Immortal is definitely at its best when embracing this less is more philosophy, and the final volume of the series is testament to that. The measured pace of the series finale is against the grain of concluding episodes generally, denying an explosive cliff-hanger, yet achieves the same aims admirably. The audience are left with a thirst for more; we have been allowed to peek at certain things, shown possible directions the characters may take, and tantalised rather than let down by an anti-climatic final showdown. There has been no word as yet of a second series, which would be a great shame – the third volume is an improvement, but it is not the polished finished article yet, so it would be great to see where it can be taken. GC
Series: Vampire Knight – Part 2: Episodes 5-8
Release date: 13th December 2010
Certificate: 15
Running time: 80 mins
Director: Kiyoko Sayama
Starring: Daisuke Kishio, Mamoru Miyano, Yui Horie, Fumiko Orikasa, Hiroki Yasumoto
Genre: Anime
Studio: Manga
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Veteran anime director Kiyoko Sayama is at the helm for Vampire Knight, the adaptation of Matsuri Hino’s long-running shōjo manga of the same name, which is being released on DVD in the UK in several volumes. Volume two of the first season comes hot all the heels of the first, which introduced viewers to Yuki Cross.
The series follows the lives of Yuki, Zero Kiryuu and Kaname Kuran, all students at Cross Academy. At the school, founded by Yuki’s father Kaien, the vampires of the Night Class live alongside the Day Class, whose human students are unaware of their colleagues’ supernatural origins. It is the job of Yuki and Zero to keep this secret and protect the humans from the vampires, lead by pure-blood Kaname, in attempt to keep a fragile peace between the species established at the school.
Episodes five to seven follow on from Yuki’s discovery of Zero’s true nature as a vampire, and the immediate aftermath, with Yuki being given a bracelet which will protect her from Zero’s passions. Meanwhile, Zero continues his internal struggle to control his vampire urges, something Kaname is keeping a close eye on, and a new teacher arrives at the school…
The fifth episode picks up the pace a bit from volume one, with another encounter with a level E, a dangerous vampire driven crazy by thirst for blood, in town which leads to Yuki and Zero getting an invitation to a gathering at the vampires’ Moon dormitory. Here Kaname gives Yuki a little history lesson on vampire/human relations, which hints at a complexly woven mythology involving the central characters, though little is revealed here.
The episode ends with a bang, a little bit of Zero’s hitherto unexplored history and the promise volume two will drive further into the roots of this tale. The pace slackens off after the opening episode of the volume, which is no surprise really as those with an interest in Vampire Knight are in for the long haul with this adaptation.
The narrative continues to rely heavily on internal dialogue and almost instantaneous flashbacks. Twice in episode five Yuki is thinking about events which have just happened, and the viewer is treated to a visual recap of the last two minutes of the episode.
It is bad writing which must rely on such techniques, and shows no faith whatsoever in the intelligence of the audience. Granted, Vampire Knight is intended for younger viewers, but the best fiction, for teenagers or otherwise, leaves at least a little bit to the imagination.
The frequency of these unnecessary soliloquies is such that it quickly becomes irritating especially when, with a little room for imagination, the potential of the subject matter is clear. Stories of love triangles, of vampires versus humans, and of coming of age and sexual awakening are as old as the hills, and the animation on display here would make an enjoyable vehicle for such a tale.
The design of the series ably sets a sumptuous gothic tone and utilises the traditional manga trappings well for the welcome, if too infrequent action. However, the achievements of the animation are quickly undermined by script to the great detriment of the volume.
Flashback is put to better use in episode seven, with the majority of the episode focusing on the past when Yuki and Zero were first adopted by Kaien. It would be made a lot better if it wasn’t for the mysterious subconscious-like voice over coming from Yuki – whose memories we are watching – which is spouting meaningless dramatic oxymora in an attempt to create atmosphere.
Volume two of Vampire Knight continues to lack subtly when it comes to telling these stories and creating atmosphere, and the main protagonists become annoying for the characteristics which are driven home like a blunt stake to the heart.
Yuki is constantly worrying, aloud, about Zero and Kaname and her feelings, and everyone else’s feeling, pausing only to chase after one of her boys or pine after the other, so that she comes across as irritatingly changeable and easily confused. Zero is troubled and moody due to personal tragedy and his internal struggle, but he lacks any sympathy because that is all the viewer ever gets from him. Kaname is at least a little ambiguous in his intentions towards Yuki, creepy blood-lust or genuine affection, but even that is draw with a clumsy hand when it is already fairly obvious without mention.
That vampirism is an age-old metaphor for lust and sex is certainly not been missed by Sayama, and the viewer would be hard pressed to miss it either after a couple of scenes in episodes six and seven in which Yuki offers her neck up for Zero, and recalls catching Kaname in the act with fellow vampire Ruka - not to mention the creepy way the vampires slip their tongues out towards unclothed napes.
The volume ends with an announcement the vampire who killed Zero’s parents is still alive, which will no doubt lead to more delving into the character’s interwoven histories - and maybe some confrontation in the present.
To tell a story in medias res in this way is nothing new and often the best way, Sayama would do well, however, to give the viewer credit and assume they will be able to follow the narrative without having every mystery and emotion spelled out in blood-red letters six foot high. This gothic romance in a boarding school has great potential in the anime form, but the script will need to improve considerably in volume three to really do it justice. GC
Film: Deadly Outlaw: Rekka
Release date: 8th November 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 96 mins
Director: Takashi Miike
Starring: Riki Takeuchi, Sonny Chiba, Joe Yamanaka, Yuya Ichida, Ken'ichi Endô
Genre: Crime/Drama/Thriller
Studio: Arrow
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
A yakuza film is bread and butter for Takashi Miike, and Deadly Outlaw: Rekka (Jitsuroku Andô Noboru kyôdô-den: Rekka), sandwiched between the sadistic violence of Ichi The Killer and the surrealism of Gozu, is surprisingly ordinary when compared with much of the director’s oeuvre. However, the straightforward nature of this 2002 film is the essence of its charm.
When Kunisada’s (Riki Takeuchi) yakuza boss and mentor Sanada (Yuya Uchida) is murdered, he plans vengeance despite the new leaders seeking a truce between the clans. With his best friend and side-kick Shimatani (Kenichi Endo), the hot-headed henchman takes revenge on opposing families and goes on the run.
However, he soon finds the plot runs a little deeper and no-one can be trusted, not even the bosses who secretly sanctioned his revenge. Cue yakuza renegade action as Kunisada takes his fight to everyone en route to a climactic shoot-out with the assassins who killed his mentor…
The narrative is a straight-forward revenge story set in the murky world of organised crime, and, with a running time of 95 minutes, Miike is in no mood to meander through Shigenori Takechi’s screenplay. The opening montage gets the film out of the blocks at a blistering, breathtaking pace as Miike chops between the hit men riddling yakuza with bullets and Kunisada (in police custody for a minor crime) feeling something is wrong, and desperately trying to escape.
Although the film never again reaches the whirlwind pace of the first sequence, quick cuts and an economic script ensure the viewer is just as breathless throughout. Even before the shoot-outs get going, when much of the action is just discussion between yakuza in grotty apartments, the film has an all pervading intensity to it.
This effect is down in no small way to the soundtrack. The music, provided by Japanese psych-punk outfit Flower Travellin’ Band with their album ‘Satori’, drives the action with fast, thrashy riffs. Juxtaposed with the dialogue and the occasional outright silence, the contrast gives every scene a focus and concentration.
This intensity is mirrored in the performance of Takeuchi, whose apoplectic Kunisada boils with rage, sometimes hidden below a serene surface, at other times bubbling over completely. For instance, when rival yakuza members taunt him early in the film, he reacts by brutally killing several of them in public. Indeed, Kunisada is so angry and so intense, his emotions and actions seem exaggerated, and this sense of farcical hyperbole runs through the film.
Despite the bloodshed from start to finish, it is never gratuitous or graphic, as in other Miike films; rather the intermittent and overblown violence is a source of morbid humour. This is especially true towards the climax, where the vengeful pair’s weapons have inexplicable explosive strength, resulting in a decent into goofiness akin to cartoon violence.
The director’s often surreal and dark sense of humour makes a few appearances in the film, in particular with the two assassins behind the original murder played by Ryôsuke Miki and Yoshiyuki Yamaguchi. The unlikely partners in crime, one mature and methodical and one young and wild, are a classic double act with a Miike twist, and their complete indifference to life and death in their work is a source of sinister amusement from the very beginning.
Despite the light touch in much of the film, Deadly Outlaw: Rekka is not entirely devoid of substance. It depicts the majority of yakuza life with gritty realism, staying away from plush Tokyo penthouses furnished in black marble, and avoiding the overtly stylish directing which often accompanies films tackling the glamorous side of gangster life. Instead our heroes and those in their sights live in cramped apartments and sit on old dirty furniture, giving the film a bleak, colour-washed tone.
There are moments of genuine tenderness, too, through the loss of a father and husband, the camaraderie of the low-ranking yakuza, and the loyalty of the young men they inspire. Tender also in the unexplored but desperate melancholy of the young girl Myung Hyung, played by Mika Katsumura, whom Kunisada picks up before embarking on his quest.
It is a film with all the hallmarks of a classic gangster caper. It has revenge and violence, black humour and pathos, the small take on the mighty and morality is at best a blurred lined. Despite this adherence to genre, it is by no means a run of the mill film. Its wackiness, which could be mishandled in less capable and creative hands, gives it a freshness and originality in such familiar territory. It is a pulp yakuza movie and fan-boy homage to the genre’s straight-to-video market in a similar vein to the Grindhouse movies of Tarantino and Rodriguez, only Miike did it five years earlier and without so much self-congratulatory fanfare.
Deadly Outlaw: Rekka is such unabashed fun it will leave you feeling indulgent and sporting a maniacal grin from start to finish, just like the one, you might imagine subsequent to viewing, Miike wore while making it. Concentrated to an hour-and-a-half, as so few recent films are, it hits you like a shot of pure audio-visual entertainment straight in the arm. GC
Film: Love Exposure
Release date: 25th January 2010
Certificate: 18
Running time: 237 mins
Director: Sion Sono
Starring: Takahiro Nishijima, Atsuro Watabe, Sakura Ando, Hikari Mitsushima, Yutaka Shimizu
Genre: Action/Comedy/Crime/Drama/Romance
Studio: Third Window
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Alfred Hitchcock once quipped, “The length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder,” and, valid though his point is, it comes to us from an age before the DVD. Watching Shion Sono’s Love Exposure, at a negligible three minutes short of four hours in length, the ability to pause without missing a scene is to be appreciated. The almost incredible length of the Japanese director’s sixth feature-length film to get worldwide release (previous outings include the celebrated Suicide Club) is not the only perplexing characteristic of a film which landed fourteen awards on the international festival circuit. A tangle of techniques unfolds a convoluted narrative inhabited by unorthodox characters, and the effect is nothing if not original.
The story brings together several plot lines and characters focussed around 17-year-old Yu Honda (Takahiro Nishijima).
Following the death of Yu’s mother at the beginning of the film, his devout Catholic father, Tetsu, played by Atsuro Watabe, decides to join the ministry. Shortly after, tempted and quickly jilted by a capricious woman, the gentle priest begins to punish his son for his own loss by demanding Yu’s daily confession.
A well-behaved Catholic boy, Yu goes out in search of sins to commit in order to satisfy the vicarious desires of his father. Requiring sins of a suitable depravity, Yu becomes a master of up-skirt photography on unsuspecting passers-by. One girl, Aya Koike (Sakura Ando), catches Yu, despite his talent for panty-peeking espionage, and takes an interest in him and his work. The diabolical leader of a Christian cult, Aya hatches a plan to ruin Yu and convert his family to the Zero Church…
This exploration of voyeuristic perversion and the strictures of a minority religion (less than one percent of the Japanese population practice Christianity) is ambiguous in terms of genre. The plot is as farcical as it sounds, and a sexual humour pervades. However, often with a sardonic edge to the dark subject matter, and scenes of touching sensitivity, Love Exposure is far from a lightweight comedy.
Yu’s voyeurism is, at first, nothing more than teenage lust (fairly) innocently misdirected. However, in Sono’s hands, it turns to a critique of the dichotomy of sexual repression and open objectification of women in Japanese culture, and takes a blatant Oedipal approach to Yu’s dead mother via sexualising the image of the Virgin Mary.
Indeed, sexual taboos, that in a sombre, hard-hitting drama might take centre stage, are in plentiful supply in Love Exposure, yet never succumb to a dark eroticism. From incest to genital mutilation, every hidden act is individually painted with broad and often humorous, brush strokes, which in the grand panorama of this lengthy film paint a picture of a society with complex sex issues.
As a consequence of the length of the film, and quantity of plot points this intricate thematic exploration creates, characters do not develop through a traditional narrative arc. Sympathies for Yu, his father and his lover Kaori (Makiko Watanabe), Aya and the object of Yu’s affection and lust Yoko (Hikari Mitsushima), are not so much divided as constantly flipped as a result.
Nishijima’s performance flits between brilliantly choreographed slapstick and an emotional sensitivity, which lends his character the believability necessary to elevate this film above a bizarre comic experiment. Yu’s endeavours are both fun and foolish, and the audience wants him to be caught and to fail only to be then hurt by his failures, and support his struggle for liberation.
Ando's sadistic cult leader Koike is a brilliant comic-book villain, combining menace and allure in her tyrannical smile. Yet, her brief back story reveals a troubled and complex psychology, which makes her character and where she could take us much more than that.
Ghosts and fantasies haunt the periphery of every character, and love-interest Yoko is no exception. A girl who left her abusive womanising father, to tag along with the return of the flighty Kaori into the lives of Yu and Tetsu, is the owner of the only pair of panties to give Yu his longed for erection. Shortly after this feat, she falls in love with Yu’s female alter ego Miss Scorpion before joining the Zero Church with the zeal of a convert. Still, she may well be the least interesting of the film's band of misfits.
Tetsu is never fully explored but Watabe's subtle performance in his limited screen time consistently maintains the tragic loss of the opening throughout. His gentle priest in search of love through his son, God and Kaori is ordinary in comparison to much of the film, serving to anchor the meandering distractions in an accessible sadness.
Love Exposure is idiosyncratically Japanese, right down to the J-Pop soundtrack and off-beat comic set-pieces, but with a self-awareness to pastiche Japanese popular culture, or, more accurately, Western perceptions of it. For example, Yu learns the art of taking dirty pictures from a wise old master in a montage of martial art-style training, and all the teenage central characters have an inexplicable talent for karate that allows them to fight off scores of bad guy goons with ease. There is also the occasional nod to the traditions of Japanese cinema from the overblown blood spattering of ‘70s samurai movies to the more modern violence of Kinji Fukasaku’s Battle Royale.
So much is brought together in this film; influences and original ideas stitched together in a cinematic patchwork and though, like a patchwork, it may be made of so many apparently ill-fitting constituent parts it still serves its purpose as a quilt. Love Exposure has as many 'purposes' as parts, but they can be neatly contained within the blanket of satisfying entertainment. GC
