Written and directed by Takeshi Kitano
Produced by Kazuyoshi Okuyama
Cinematography by Katsumi Yanagishima
Edited by Toshio Taniguchi
Starring
Yurei Yanagi as Masaki
Beat Takeshi as Uehara
. . .
"You should've swung your bat at least once. "
. . .
Review by William D. Tucker.
Boiling Point is about a man who struggles to live up to the expectations of being a vengeful protagonist in a violent, harrowing crime movie.
But we start things off in Act One real casual, kinda goofy, kinda like The Sandlot but with adults . . .
Masaki is a minor league baseball player who struggles to hit the ball. He doesn't really want to be at practice. He hides in the baseball field's restroom pretending to take lengthy shits in order to avoid the scorn of his teammates. Maybe he's constipated. Stress can do that to you. After getting struck out for the umpteenth time, Masaki goes off to sit by his lonesome in some tall grass.
We find out that Masaki works at a gas station. Pumping gas. Wiping down windshields. Vacuuming interiors. Dumping ashtrays. Washing mud off tires. He has no zeal for this job, and can barely be bothered to show up on time.
Is Masaki depressed? Is he dissatisfied with his rut in life? He seems to feel trapped.
One day, a gangster rolls into the gas station expecting full service only to be left waiting for an unreasonable amount of time by Masaki, who is supposed to be on duty as an attendant. The gangster lashes out with verbal abuse and violence. Masaki punches the gangster. This is the fatal mistake. The gangster has a whole gang of goons ready to lean on the gas station. Which they do. The rest of this film follows Masaki in his winding, often half-assed, quest for vengeance.
Now, Masaki has the right idea. That yakuza guy was an asshole, and yakuza, generally, are crooks and exploiters, so there's no reason not to fight back . . .
. . . except for the stark reality that everyone else at the gas station is afraid to stand up to the gangsters, and prefer the safety of apology, appeasement, and self-abasement.
Also, Masaki isn't really a tough guy. Although he exists within a film with genre elements-gangster intrigues, vigilante justice, three act structure-Masaki is closer to being a person from real life than a genre protagonist. He's justifiably outraged, but he’s not someone with a capacity for violence. Masaki has no military training, nor is he inherently attracted to bloodshed. The guy is barely able to maintain normal conversations-perhaps due to shyness or social anxiety-let alone crack one-liners as he slaughters bad guys. In movie protagonist terms, Masaki is a loser. In real life terms, Masaki is just trying to get by like billions of other people on the planet.
This is Masaki's dilemma: can he-a Real Life Person-survive ordeals that usually call for a Violent Movie Protagonist?
Well . . .
Masaki and one of his baseball bros decide to leave the sticks for the big city of Okinawa. The plan is to purchase illegal firearms so they can go shoot up the bogus real estate offices where the yakuza bullies hold court. Masaki and his friend don't divulge specifics to We the Audience of how they hope to buy guns which are severely restricted by law in Japan. It seems like a bit of a fishing expedition. Big cities are places of crime and guns. Want a gun? Go to the big city! I also wasn't clear if we're just supposed to be aware that it's common knowledge that you can purchase firearms from American military personnel stationed in Okinawa. This was a surprise to me, in any case.
But before Masaki and his bro can buy the illegal guns, they need a hookup. This hookup is a gangster named Uehara. Uehara is in big trouble with his boss for spending money recklessly, and drinking to excess. Uehara is also a walking timebomb who revels in torture, rape, and murder, but the boss is just like, "The money, Lebowski!"
Uehara hijacks the Second Act. Masaki and his bro go out 'partying' with Uehara and his sworn bro . . . and it's a wonder any of them survive. Complete tonal shift. The slackery vibe of Act One is gone, and we are on a nonstop death trip with the frightful demon beast that is Uehara. The situations of Act One induced a certain anxiety. Uehara's pitiless, stony gaze may induce panic in some viewers who stay through Act Two.
Now, Uehara's problem is that he's too good at being a Violent Movie Protagonist. Uehara makes Charles Bronson look like Mr. Belvedere. Uehara makes Frank Booth-the Dennis Hopper villain from Blue Velvet-look like Tickle Me Elmo. Uehara makes Chuck Norris look like a Teletubby. Hell, Uehara makes John Wick look like Keanu Reeves.
Uehara has no problem making the necessary moves to buy military grade hardware from an American soldier. Uehara has no hesitation when it comes to obliterating his own boss and those who stand with the boss. Uehara cares not for any innocent people who get caught in the crossfire. Hey, disregard for civilian deaths is kinda baked-in to any form of warfare including gang warfare. But Uehara also seems to relish his own destruction which is where the guy kinda seals his doom. In a completely amoral universe, you can live a life of total depravity, but if your appetite for destruction consumes even your own life . . .
. . . well . . .
. . . guess that means Masaki's carrying the baton for Act Three.
I suppose it's a spoiler to say that Masaki survives as long as he does. Although after his ordeal with Uehara, he might wish he had been killed with the others massacred in Okinawa.
Don't get me wrong. My heart is with Masaki on this one. But this is a guy who's barely equipped to hold down his gas station job let alone confront the heart of madness that drives Boiling Point to its jaw-dropping climax. Yes, there is a helluva payoff to this elliptical, confounding, and punitive film experience. The pettiness, stupidity, and sadism that suffuse the asinine conflicts demand some spectacle of mayhem, I suppose. We begin in a world without any moral order, and Masaki, in his blundering, imposes . . . something . . . upon this mess-
-unless he doesn't.
The end returns us to the baseball field's restroom, wherein Masaki lingers over his phantom bowel movement. Was it all a B-Movie phantasia in the mind of an anxiety-ridden minor leaguer? Did Masaki carry over his Save Data into New Game+? Does Masaki-at long last-get to drop a fat shit?
Maybe we need a cartoon owl to start licking on some lollipops to find out for sure.
Boiling Point fucks with you like that.
