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Arguably one of the most important and influential figures in contemporary Japanese cinema, Shinya Tsukamoto is a director, actor, writer, editor and cinematographer best known for his groundbreaking Tetsuo movies of the late-80s and early-90s.
Since his feature film debut Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989), Tsukamoto has gone on to garner worldwide critical acclaim and a huge cult following, whilst being one of the first to spearhead the now popular extreme Asian cinema trend of the 1990s and 2000s.
Born on New Year’s Day 1960 in Tokyo, Japan, Tsukamoto’s interest in filmmaking began during his school days in the 1970s, producing 8mm movies with friends and presenting them in class. After a brief dalliance in theatre during his time at university, Tsukamoto returned to filmmaking by the mid-80s with short films The Phantom Of Regular Size (1986) and The Adventure Of Denchu Kozo (1987); the former – a blueprint for Tetsuo: The Iron Man that followed a few years later; the latter – a film based on one of Tsukamoto’s stage plays. Tsukamoto’s films, with a couple of exceptions, are set in his home city of Tokyo; with whom he has a complicated relationship: “It’s strange,” Tsukamoto has mused in the past, “part of me loves a city like Tokyo, but part of me would quite happily destroy it.”
Monster metamorphosis
When Tsukamoto’s official debut Tetsuo: The Iron Man took international audiences by surprise with its low-fi, hyper-visceral imagery, it became a cornerstone genre text and the centrepiece of Japan’s short lived extreme cyberpunk movement of the late-80s and 1990s. It also served as an effective manifesto for Tsukamoto that laid out many of the themes, conventions and obsessions that went on to return in many of his subsequent works; chiefly: the identity threatening force of the urban metropolis and modernity’s potential for dehumanisation, as well as abject psychosexual exploration reminiscent of venereal horror originator David Cronenberg. The film’s slowly transforming protagonist (Tomorowo Taguchi’s salaryman turning into a super-powered scrap-metal monstrosity) is comparable to the Canadian director’s remake of The Fly (1986).
Tsukamoto’s penchant for the frenetic, visceral assault that was slowly making its way from festival to festival had all but disappeared completely by his sophomore follow-up Hiruko The Goblin (1990); an adaptation of two storylines from Daijiro Moroboshi’s manga series Yokai Hantra (Demon Hunter). It’s similarities to the more tongue-in-cheek style splatter movies of Sam Raimi (Evil Dead, Evil Dead II ) and early Peter Jackson (Bad Taste, Meet The Feebles) stands it as a strange exception to Tsukamoto’s otherwise thematically unified filmography, and, as a result, is frequently considered the director’s weakest effort by his followers. It’s also the first of two studio commissioned films in the Tsukamoto catalogue (as well as moving away from the sprawl of Tokyo) with the rest being independently financed.
Hiruko The Goblin’s existence was largely the result of studio reluctance to bank roll a second Tetsuo film, which surfaced through independent means a couple of years later. Tetsuo II: Body Hammer (1992) was essentially a re-imagining of the ideas put forward in the first Tetsuo film, making it more of a companion piece rather than a straight sequel. Once again, Tomorowo Taguchi’s salaryman transforms into a metal monster and does battle with the film’s equally metallic antagonist (played again by Tsukamoto). The results are less immediate and lack the bizarre, visceral coherency of the first movie in favour of a more accessible narrative structure.
Rage in the city
Tsukamoto’s filmmaking began to shy away from the science fiction/horror iconography that had characterised it so far in favour of more mature visions that still retained the director’s thematic concerns – the symbiosis of city and citizen – and the hyper-kinetic presentation of said material. Tsukamoto’s films Tokyo Fist (1995) and Bullet Ballet (1998) continued his exploration of the body transformed by rage, albeit only figuratively as opposed to the literal metamorphosis in the Tetsuo films. However, his last film of the 1990s Gemini – his only other ‘director-for-hire’ work – moved away from the contemporary cityscape and explored Tsukamoto’s staple concerns in a period countryside setting. Based on a story by Edogawa Ranpo (one of Tsukamoto’s favourite authors), Gemini revolves around a destitute peasant stealing the identity of his estranged twin brother who is the town’s highly respected and successful doctor. The film serves as a transitional piece in the Tsukamoto filmography.
The body fantastic
At the turn of the century, Tsukamoto returned, not only to independent filmmaking but to the domineering metropolis of Tokyo with psychosexual drama A Snake Of June (2002). A Snake Of June harks back to the monochromatic invasiveness of past work such as Tetsuo and Bullet Ballet, whilst simultaneously suggesting Tsukamoto’s future output – abandoning visceral violence in favour of a more psychological study of the pure body, free of transformation - although Tsukamoto’s recurring theme of transcendence remains. This updated manifesto continued through to his next feature Vital (2004), which again obsesses over the human flesh and the consciousness contained within.
Return to horror
After contributing a short twenty minute work to multi-segmented Japanese film Female (2005), Tsukamoto returned to the horror genre with the short feature Haze (2005) – a film about a wounded man (played by Tsukamoto) trapped in a abstract labyrinth based on the multiple layers of hell – along with Nightmare Detective (2006) – a police procedural about a suicide case and alternate realities. It was followed by a sequel; Nightmare Detective 2 (2008), which continues the story with Tsukamoto stating that he plans on making the series a trilogy.
In the meantime, though, after seventeen years, Tsukamoto has returned to the world of Tetsuo with a third outing. Tetsuo: The Bullet Man (2009) is an American co-production, and Tsukamoto’s first English language film, although still set in Japan. An American living in Japan with a Japanese family is provoked into transformation when his young son is killed by a hit and run driver. An American version of Tetsuo had been talked about for years; at one point a co-directorship between Tsukamoto and Quentin Tarantino was considered back in the mid-90s but failed to materialise. This incarnation has been seen as a compromise of sorts; making it more accessible to a world audience whilst retaining a modicum of integrity. The film premiered at the Venice film festival last year but has yet to appear in either the UK or USA – presumably the film’s main target audience.
Like David Cronenberg, Shinya Tsukamoto has developed an intrinsic, unified body of corporeal work where each film is simultaneously a similar yet differing exploration of a core nexus of recurring themes. By performing most of the key roles himself – directing, writing, editing, producing etc., as well as acting in many of his and other people’s films (Takashi Miike’s Ichi the Killer, for example) – Tsukamoto’s films feel very immediate and personal, with each one feeling like a labour of love, with possible exception to his infrequent studio efforts - although these never feel calculated or hollow. Staying fiercely independent, despite his expanding worldwide following, Tsukamoto’s uncompromising style has helped pave the way for contemporary Japanese cinema’s international breakthrough. MP
Filmography:
2009 Tetsuo: The Bullet Man
2008 Nightmare Detective 2
2006 Nightmare Detective
2005 Haze
2005 Female (‘Tamamushi’ segment)
2004 Vital
2002 A Snake of June
1999 Gemini
1998 Bullet Ballet
1995 Tokyo Fist
1992 Tetsuo II: Body Hammer
1990 Hiruko the Goblin
1989 Tetsuo: The Iron Man
1987 The Adventure of Denchu Kozo
1986 The Phantom of Regular Size
Recommended reading:
Iron Man – The Cinema of Shinya Tsukamoto, Tom Mes, 2005, FAB Press
Film: Tetsuo: The Iron Man
Release date: 22nd April 2002
Certificate: 18
Running time: 67 mins
Director: Shinya Tsukamoto
Starring: Tomorowo Taguchi, Kei Fujiwara, Nobu Kanaoka, Naomasa Musaka, Shinya Tsukamoto
Genre: Horror/Sci-Fi/Thriller
Studio: Palisades Tartan
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Shinya Tsukamoto’s feature film debut – although said feature is barely over an hour in length – needs to be seen to be believed. Made over twenty years ago on a shoestring budget and with minimal crew, the film went on to not only rejuvenate the then moribund Japanese film industry, setting the wheels in motion for the Extreme Asian cinema movement of the 90s, but also enjoyed unexpected overseas success.
In decaying, industrial seclusion, a strange individual referred to as the “metal fetishist” (Tsukamoto) proceeds to cut open his own leg and insert pieces of scrap metal into the wound believing that it will somehow improve his body. Upon realising that this is not the case, he flees in a panicked state and is struck down by a humble Salaryman (Taguchi) out driving with his girlfriend (Fujiwara). Unsure as to what to do, the two of them dispose of the body in the woods and continue as if nothing had happened.
Time has passed, but ever since the Salaryman’s discovery of a small shard of his razor embedded into his cheek one morning, a sequence of strange events and experiences present themselves. He is chased and attacked by a crazed woman at the train station after her hand becomes strangely mutated. Later that day, the Salaryman starts to develop similar growths; pieces of scrap metal, wires and piping start to break through the skin in a series of bizarre transformations that turns him into a freakish man-metal hybrid. Things continue to get worse when the “metal fetishist” resurfaces, seeking revenge…
Shot with stark and grainy black-and-white 16mm film stock, Tetsuo is an ugly and frequently absurd picture that offers a unique vision, not only within Japanese horror cinema but in world cinema as a whole. Part of its international success lay in its ability to fit snugly within the canon of already established Western shockmeisters such as David Cronenberg (whose teratological influence can clearly be seen throughout) and David Lynch. The ongoing metamorphosis of the protagonist is reminiscent of Cronenberg’s remake of The Fly (1986), whereas the film’s abstract execution and industrial gothic aesthetic frequently has critics dub it: “the Japanese Eraserhead”.
However, whilst Eraserhead is more of a slow burning, atmospheric piece; Tetsuo is a hyper-kinetic time bomb of surrealist expression, pummelling its audience with a never-ending barrage of bizarre, frequently enigmatic and sometimes graphic imagery. The Salaryman’s transformation takes a turn towards the gruesome when his genitals are replaced by a large and incredibly phallic power drill that protrudes in a continually erect state. In a horny delirium, he then tries to have his way with his girlfriend with bloody results; one of several moments that supports a strange sexual undercurrent throughout the film (another is a dream sequence in which the Salaryman is violated by his girlfriend sporting a snakelike mechanical appendage). Similar to Canada’s David Cronenberg, director Shinya Tsukamoto has a penchant for melding psychosexuality with violence.
That’s not to say that Tetsuo is a mindless and bafflingly gore-fest; although some could easily interpret it that way. Upon closer inspection, it offers a near philosophical outlook on the dehumanising side effects of contemporary society which is realised two fold. The first, and most obvious, being the physical transformation of the Salaryman from human to mass of living metal – a possible indictment on the all consuming nature of technology – and the second being the feeling of social alienation created within a huge and sprawling urban space - and spaces don’t get much more urban and sprawling than Tokyo.
As one would expect from a zero-budget film made by a handful of people, production values are raw and cheap, but instead of trying to disguise this fact, Tsukamoto embraces it, lending an intoxicating and distinct flavour to the proceedings. The transformation and gore effects are gloriously lo-fi; something that became a characteristic factor during the subsequent extreme Japanese cyberpunk movement that followed in Tetsuo’s wake. There is also wonderful use of stop-motion photography, as the Salaryman’s transformation and eventual showdown against the metal fetishist becomes more and more complex - allowing them to fly up and down the streets of urban Tokyo at seemingly breakneck speeds. The attention to detail is sublime; pieces of scrap and wires come alive in a gritty and highly organic fashion.
Performances are manic and frequently difficult to fathom; it stands to reason that an unconventional narrative structure requires unconventional acting. Taguchi plays his part with relative ease; simultaneously repulsed and curious about what he is turning into whereas Tsukamoto – casting himself as antagonist – brings an insane and energetic charisma to the table. Fujiwara’s performance is also fine and syncs with the film’s personality admirably.
Camerawork is split between Tsukamoto and his co-star Fujiwara (depending on whose on screen) and its kinetic, mono-chromatic style compliments the content nicely and strangely enough, gives the DIY transformation and effects sequences an air of believability. With manic photography and equally aggressive editing, Tsukamoto has successfully created his own budgetless filmic universe where disbelief can be suspended indefinitely. This is rounded off with an aptly pounding industrial score courtesy of composer Chu Ishikawa giving the film extra propulsion.
Tetsuo is a masterpiece of underground filmmaking; a call to arms to all those aspiring film directors who feel disempowered because they don’t have the financial or technological resources to make unique and challenging cinema. Tsukamoto’s vision is raw, uncompromising and darkly humorous, and although its unconventional, abstract style won’t suit everyone’s taste, it will be a memorable ride for them nonetheless. MP
Film: Ichi The Killer
Release date: 9th November 2009
Certificate: 18
Running time: 120 mins
Director: Takashi Miike
Starring: Tadanobu Asano, Nao Omori, Shinya Tsukamoto
Genre: Crime
Studio: Cine Asia
Format: DVD
Country: Japan
Based on Hideo Yamamoto’s manga, 2001’s (reissued on DVD at the end of 2009) Ichi The Killer has become infamous for its excessive graphic violence (few extreme asian films have come close), but does it offer anything more to viewers with a strong enough stomach, or those with a (worrying) craving for grotesque brutality?
Sadomasochist Kakihara is searching for his Yakuza boss, Anjo, who has disappeared along with 300 million of the mob’s yen.
Kakihara, who we discover has an intimate and disturbed relationship with Anjo (which he later attempts to recreate with a potential new girlfriend - but she is unable to inflict beatings with the necessary ferocity), heads an aggressive search for his beloved keeper that includes brutally torturing a rival Yakuza on the strength of a mysterious tipoff.
With the mentally imbalanced, and responsible vigilante Ichi continuing his Yakuzu killing spree with increasing spectacle, however, it’s not long before Kakihara is on the right track, disturbingly excited by the prospect of facing off with a man capable of such repellent actions…
The plot is simple enough, but director Takashi Miike manages to stretch proceedings out to over 120 minutes, all the time confusing viewers with experimental cinematographic techniques (although he thankfully tires of his initial penchant for altering the film’s speed), unnecessary sub plots, and the introduction of countless characters, who we know little to nothing about, and who either disappear or are quickly sacrificed to titillate gore fans. With the director cramming so much in unnecessarily, fairly vital flashbacks, seamlessly incorporated, could easily be missed and only compound the perplexity.
With the film-makers focus on blood splatter, following any kind of story is hard enough, and violent scenes are either sickeningly realistic (the mutation of the captured Yakuzu is distressing – hung on large hooks by the skin on his back whilst Kakihara pierces his face with giant needles, before pouring boiling oil onto his back – whilst his apology, to cut off his own tongue, is no less upsetting), or over-the-top and laughable (an arm is wrenched out of a socket following a long, entertaining struggle; a man is tortured inside a TV set; coagulated blood sprays out from neck wounds; a face is taken clean off, which we see sliding down a bloodied wall; a blade concealed in Ichi’s boot splits a man clean in two…).
Sexual dysfunction is a theme throughout (we see dripping semen during the title screen), and whilst you can laugh off Ichi chopping up and disembowelling criminals, the rape scenes are particularly unforgiving – in one scene, we see a Yakuzu boss beating a prostitute’s already ghastly swollen face.
As violence fluctuates between comical and depraved, and the film mixes abuse with some genuinely deft humour (the team bemoaning the mess they have to clean up after one of Ichi’s early massacres), the film lacks a coherent mood, but whether you’re ridiculing some fairly out there film-making or turning away, this is a twisted ride all the way – with the musical score, at least, consistently demented.
With two such outlandish characters as Ichi and Kakihara, both actors, Tadanobu Asano and Nao Omori respectively, have a hoot, and both creditably manage to standout.
Despite the excess, Ichi is the hero of the piece (illustrated by his leather ‘costume’), brainwashed and manipulated by former cop Jijii, and disposing of evil criminals. Although you never really warm to him, as the trembling wreck he is (we see him cowering under a blanket at his games console), not because of Tadanobu’s performance, but because the carnage doesn’t allow any connection.
Kakihara, of course, revels in it all. Facial piercings hold his extended mouth together (slits either side allow him to blow smoke out to good effect, although when he removes these to gnaw on a man’s fist the special effects are atrocious), whilst his facial scars and punk attire present the archetypal “bad boy”. There is no back story, or any hint of remorse or a sympathetic side to his character – he is pure evil (this is the cartoon element of the film).
When the film pulls everything together, you realise what an intelligent and thought provoking piece this should have been, with some neat revelations and strong messages, but by this point any potential impact has been lost.
Such a manic rollercoaster of a movie is always going to be worth a look, and there are several startling must-see scenes for any serious film fan, but this is hard going – and surely no sane person would enjoy viewing two hours of serious physical violence at the levels depicted here. DH
