Showing posts with label Toshiro Mifune. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Toshiro Mifune. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 2, 2022

MOVIE REVIEW: THE BAD SLEEP WELL (1960)

 


Directed by Akira Kurosawa 

Produced by Akira Kurosawa and Tomoyuki Tanaka

Written by Shinobu Hashimoto, Eijiro Hisaita, Ryuzo Kikushima, Akira Kurosawa, and Hideo Oguni

Cinematography by Yuzuru Aizawa

Lighting by Ichiro Inohara

Art Directed by Yoshiro Muraki 

Music by Masaru Sato


Starring 

Toshiro Mifune as "Nishi"

Masayuki Mori as Iwabuchi

Takashi Shimura as Moriyama

Ko Nishimura as Shirai

Kamatari Fujiwara as Wada

Takeshi Kato as "Itakura"

Kyoko Kagawa as Yoshiko

Tatsuya Mihashi as Tatsuo 


. . .


"Wada, still ready to die for them and let them go scot-free? Don't you want revenge?"


. . .


Review by William D. Tucker. 


The Public Corporation has entered into a partnership with the Japanese government to develop a sizeable chunk of land. One of their executives jumps out of a window. His death is ruled a suicide, but suspicions persist that he was driven to end his own life. Or maybe he was even thrown. The police investigate. Journalists ask difficult questions. An unknown informant passes notes to the cops. But hard evidence remains elusive. 


The Bad Sleep Well depicts a world of perfectly rationalized corruption, deceit, and murder to the point where an executive level corporate villain-Iwabuchi-can rip off the public for millions, order the deaths of potential witnesses, and enjoy grilling with his family on the weekends. It doesn't matter that his daughter's wedding is crashed by journalists and cops. The graft is an open secret. But the big bosses never go to jail. Key witnesses end up jumping out of windows or running in front of trucks. The code of silence inflicts shame as a weapon driving men to end their own lives rather than testify in open court against their criminal masters. 


Of course, if necessary, a hired assassin can be instructed to step out of the shadows and blast a troublesome weak link into the great beyond. 


Our villain, Iwabuchi, isn't even the top of the power structure. He's just a highly placed middle man. Sure, he dreams of gaining enough executive clout to move into politics, but by the end of this tale I wasn't convinced he had the Wrong Stuff. Iwabuchi is effective and dutiful to his mostly offscreen masters, but that's also probably why he'll never rise much higher than Vice President. The offscreen power has Iwabuchi right where it needs him. Hey, it's the middle men who do all the work, right?


The informant is a man named Nishi, who has married Iwabuchi's daughter. Nishi's father was the guy who jumped out of a window. Nishi is Iwabuchi's executive secretary. Nishi has positioned himself to tear down the Public Corporation from the inside, but he needs hard evidence he can present to the prosecutor's office. To that end, Nishi engages in elaborate deceptions to ensnare one of the corporate officers so that he can gather the necessary evidence. 


Nishi's elaborate deceptions include a huge cake shaped like the office building where his father was driven to suicide or murdered outright; convincing a crooked executive that he's being haunted by another recently dead colleague thereby driving him insane; and using a bomb shelter as his own private prison to starve yet another business criminal into giving up the locations of incriminating financial documents. Nishi doesn't use a gun, but he’s as ruthless as Mike Hammer or Charles Bronson in his own way. 


Nishi is aided and abetted in his vigilante quest by his best friend Itakura. Nishi and Itakura were assigned duty in a munitions factory during World War II. This factory was bombed into rubble. Nishi and Itakura survived by hiding out in the bomb shelter that now serves as their secret prison. From the ruins of empire are born a pair of anti-corruption avengers, who fight to expose the false prosperity of their age as the product of graft, murder, and entrenched oligarchs . . . !


Oh, if only it were that simple.


After all, the title is The Bad Sleep Well. 


Nishi is hard-boiled, but he feels guilty about deceiving his wife, Yoshiko. But that guilt isn't all-consuming. Although Nishi stops short of full-on murder, he never relents. At one point he castigates himself for not being able to hate his targets enough. One of the darker notions of this film is that Nishi is right. Normal people aren’t wired to operate like Iwabuchi and his offscreen masters. Normal people feel compelled by conscience to tell the truth, to not steal, and to not kill or drive people to self-destruction. Therefore, justice is totally fucked. 


The Bad Sleep Well is shot in widescreen black and white, part of a cycle of works exploring film noir by filmmaker Akira Kurosawa. Much of what transpires is driven by terrific performances that range from realism to Gothic expressionism. The heroes have grandiose motivations mixed with somewhat unlikely methods, while the villains are rather low-key, matter-of-fact, just doing their jobs. This contrast suggests the normalization of evil in the world. Kurosawa has no choice but to crowbar a pair of elevated, theatrical avengers into this grimly self-perpetuating reality as a form of defiance. It's not a million miles away from the more blatant fantasies of Astro Boy, Kamen Rider, Superman, Batman, or Spider-Man in its conception, but where it all ends up . . .


Hey, it's not called The Righteous Sleep Well, is it?


No. It isn't. 


My favorite scene is where Iwabuchi speaks to his offscreen master on the phone. As he hangs up, he is literally bowing to the phone. That’s how powerful the force of evil is in this film. Iwabuchi isn't even bowing to a person but an instrument. Which is a strange image: one instrument bowing to another . . .


Alas, poor Nishi . . . did you ever have a chance in a world that runs on such murderous conformity? 

Wednesday, February 17, 2021

MOVIE REVIEW: THE SWORD OF DOOM (1966)

 Directed by Kihachi Okamoto

Cinematography by Hiroshi Murai

Edited by Yoshitami Kuroiwa

Music by Masaru Sato


Starring 

Tatsuya Nakadai as Ryunosuke Tsukue

Toshiro Mifune as Toranosuke Shimada



“Power without perception is spiritually useless, and therefore of no true value.”

-dialogue from the film Fist of the North Star (1986)


Review by William D. Tucker. 


Japan: 1860s: armed factions fight for and against the military Shogunate and the  divine Emperor. The Shogun wishes to strike a profitable deal with the foreigners from the West. The Emperor demands the expulsion of all foreign devils and total loyalty as a godlike absolute ruler over all. It is a time of violence. Men sharpen their blades and train rigorously in all forms of martial arts to wage wars covert and overt to determine the fate of the nation . . .


Ryunosuke Tsukue is a master swordsman with a strangely passive sword-fighting style: he squares off with an opponent, lowers his blade, lowers his eyes-he is leaving himself open to attack. Ryunosuke’s opponent takes the opportunity. Ryunosuke strikes this opponent-whoever he happens to be-dead with a single stroke of his sword. This master swordsman has perhaps made himself so sensitive to the sounds of his opponent’s body-maybe even to the changes in the currents of the air as a person maneuvers themselves to try to gain advantage in a duel-that he might not even need to look at his attacker to vanquish them. 


Ryunosuke is a wandering swordsman with no master, no loyalty to either Shogun or Emperor. He doesn’t seem to be associated with any criminal gangs. He is rejected as a perverted embodiment of evil by his old-fashioned kendo schoolmaster father. You could say Ryunosuke is his own master. Ryunosuke wanders Japan, getting into fights with other swordsmen, or, if he can find no one to duel, he might just kill a random person-like an elderly pilgrim praying at a Buddhist shrine by the roadside. Ryunosuke will also enter kendo competitions in order to “accidentally” crack open an opponent’s skull with a wooden sword and still be within the bounds of the rules. 


Eventually, Ryunosuke’s prowess and ruthlessness attracts the attention of armed political extremists who wish to use this master swordsman as an assassin. Ryunosuke has no political or moral convictions. He is neither a conformist nor a true believer. He fights fiercely, yet not from fear of death. Ryunosuke doesn’t draw his sword for self-defense or idealism. He enjoys killing as an end unto itself. He is a serial killer wearing the disguise of a mercenary swordsman for hire. Or, maybe he just sees killing for what it is stripped of the empty, self-justifying rhetoric of politics and religion. 


Ryunosuke goes through the motions of being a Japanese man in the 1860s. He ends up with a wife and a child. He drinks sake in the evenings to unwind. He dutifully carries out assassinations for the political faction that claims him . . . but these are not people or actions he loves. 


Well, the sake is okay. The killing is good. But he has no emotional connections to anyone or anything. Ryunosuke doesn’t seem to have emotions save for sadism and cruel, ironic amusement at how he continues to exist in a world of hypocrisy and stupidity. Ryunosuke is married to his sword. His face is a creepy, unblinking mask. He is a collection of gestures trying to pass for human. It’s not even clear if he gets truly drunk off of the sake-he might just be performing drunkenness to enhance the illusion of being human. What he is at heart is a maelstrom of violence disguised as a person. In turbulent times, no one seems to notice. Or care.


Ryunosuke, during one of his assassination gigs, finds himself witness to the spectacle of a sword master slaying many opponents who is possibly his equal: Toranosuke Shimada. Shimada is killing Ryunosuke’s fellow assassins in the extremist political faction. Ryunosuke should be joining his comrades in battle . . . but Ryunosuke has never had comrades. Ryunosuke just lets people think he has a sense of duty so he can have a warrant to kill. But Ryunosuke finds himself frozen before the magnificent technique of Shimada. Shimada is as fearsome as Ryunosuke but he spares the life of a helpless would-be assassin. Shimada has the conscience and sense of mercy that Ryunosuke lacks. 


Two swordsmen. One evil. One moral. Both capable of unleashing maelstroms of slashing carnage. Surely, if they clashed it would be like metaphysical matter and antimatter in collision. All would cease. 


Okay, maybe that’s taking things too far.


But it is certainly likely both Ryunosuke and Shimada would fight each other so ferociously that they would both perish of their wounds. Neither are afraid to die, yet Ryunosuke lives to kill. If Ryunosuke dies, he can’t kill anymore. Weirdly, absurdly . . . Ryunosuke must refuse to engage the worthiest opponent he is likely to ever encounter in his life so that he can keep on killing numerous lesser foemen and experience the one joy he is capable of having. 


Yeah, Ryunosuke is a sick and twisted fuck. 


Because Ryunosuke refuses to draw his sword, Shimada dismisses him with a disdainful glance, and strides away into the night.


Throughout The Sword of Doom, we get subjective camera work that puts us in the frightful perspective of Ryunosuke. We even get some first person shots that come oh-so-close to anticipating the steady-stalking camera work of John Carpenter’s Halloween-the one true slasher film of all time, forget all those superfluous sequels and dumbass remakes. In Halloween we have the Shape-who may once have been a person-a masked engine of murder who has no mercy and no discernible humanity. The Shape is a pure terror invading an anodyne suburban landscape unprepared to ward off a monster of pure malevolence. Ryunosuke is a monster born in a time of violence and paranoia whose ruthlessness and murderous spirit make him valuable to the powers that be. Maybe the Shape, after all, is the reincarnation of Ryunosuke-no, the reincarnation of the maelstrom that once wore the disguise of “Ryunosuke Tsukue.”


Of course, you can draw all kinds of bizarre connections in the realm of cinema, with all its recurring tropes and motifs and what have you. 


It’s weirdly satisfying-comforting,even-to construct patterns to explain the recurrence of senseless violence across time. 


Which is funny in a sicko sort of way.


Because another thing that The Sword of Doom and Halloween’78 have in common?


They both end with their human-disguised murder machines still at large.  


It can be a harsh realm out there, people. 


It really can.