The intros are among some of the best pieces of cinema Takashi Miike produced
around the late-Nineties and Millennium period. The brutal baseball attack to
kick-off "Fudoh: The New Generation" and the film within a montage
that introduces us to the "Dead or Alive" Trilogy. Coming a year
earlier than the latter, 1998's "Blues Harp" also shows a whole condensed
into a rock montage, with clips from throughout the film interspersed with Atsushi
Okuno's performance on stage to get the octane levels up. Seeing Miike's
lower-budget works as forerunners for ideas in his larger-scale pieces,
"Blues Harp" is another, more minor, work that would see similar
themes explored later on.
Chuji, born in Okinawa to a Japanese prostitute and African-American
soldier, is a barman in a dive bar and music venue in the US navy base town of
Yokosuka. A low-level drug dealer, he chances upon Kenji, an ambitious young
yakuza in the alley behind the bar, saving Kenji from a beating from his
rivals. For this, Kenji is eternally grateful, and chooses to lookout for Chuji
as much as he can.
But Kenji is also a man out for himself, and wishes to dethrone is
family head, using an affair with his wife to give him the opportunity to seize
power. Chuji also sees a bright future ahead: his dabbling with a harmonica,
encouraged by the house band, gets heard by a talent scout who wants to offer
him a record contract, his bosses' approval pending; as well as his girlfriend
announcing she is pregnant.
Things come to a head on one fateful Thursday. Yakuza (and their
women's) double-crossings rife, Kenji's plans are soon thwarted and the jealousy
of his younger "brother" sees him use Chuji's drug dealing past to
blackmail him into being the lacky in Kenji's plans, potentially damaging his
future music career, and future full stop.
While a violent film, this is not typical Miike: here the violence is
more straight, compared to the more extreme and comic cases seen in his other
films. At face-value, this is a fairly standard yakuza tale of backstabbing, teaching
us to never trust a yakuza. But the character of Chuji, played by Kiroyuki
Ikeuchi, adds a little something extra to the film.
Mixed-race, Chuji represents something of a changing face of Japan.
Kenji comments that Chuji is an old-fashioned name, but his lifestyle is
anything but. A more Westernised, low-level street dealer, he is a far cry from
the organised, "business" face of the yakuza. An early incarnation of
the slacker staple now frequent in Japanese cinema, as critiqued my Mark Schilling, he lives in an area populated by graffiti, immigrants, back streets
and the homeless, and dreams of a career in blues music. Adopting a homeless,
black US soldier as a surrogate father figure, he is a lost soul in an
industrialised cityscape emerging from the Nineties decline.
Kenji also offers a twist on yakuza meat and drink, with his affection
for Chuji more than simply friendship. Catching an early glimpse of his young
rear end, Kenji's hidden homosexuality manifests in his looking out for Chuji
and aggressive teeth-brushing following each sexual encounter with his boss'
wife, showing a touch more subtlety from Miike.
Music is also important to "Blues Harp" with live
performances essentially shown in full alongside storylines, with a mix of
rock, blues and hip hop on stage at the bar where Chuji works.
But, as an earlier work in Miike's post-V-cinema career, this is a film
not without its flaws. The less established cast, incorporating musicians,
naturally, doesn't always mean particularly classic acting. Chuji can come
across more funny than funky in his live performances, Ikeuchi perhaps
overdoing his blues harp miming a little.
But typical of this era, it also sees Miike experimenting throughout,
with ideas and themes that would be reprised later in his career in
bigger-scale projects. As such, while not a particularly standout work, this is
in some ways Miike at his best, and more low-key works such as "Blues
Harp" would have been welcomed in a career that has often gone to
extremes.
Some soundtracks work to evoke visuals memories of a film; others are
simply background and go largely unnoticed; though others you can listen to and
not recall much of it ever actually being in the film ('Music Inspired by,' my
posterior! - not literally, of course). It's interesting to listen to a film's
soundtrack in isolation, removed from the visual elements, to see what it makes
you think: of the film; the music itself; or just a feeling of confusion.
The 1990s produced not only some good Asian cinema, but also some nice
soundtracks to accompany them, whether original or specifically selected from
one's CD collection (in the days when you required shelves to do such a thing).
Here is an admittedly limited selection of soundtracks from the aforementioned
decade and continent that can fit into one or more of the above categories, all
with their own merits, though perhaps for differing reasons.
Maborosi (Maboroshi no hikari)
The thing I found most notable about Kore-eda Hirokazu's breakthrough
feature is the use of colour and light. Seemingly filmed entirely in twilight
to emphasise the sense of limbo of lead Yumiko, the film is all about mood. But
strangely, despite this emphasis, I can't say I recalled too much about the
soundtrack on first viewing.
But, recently listening to the soundtrack on repeat while staring at
spreadsheets, the soundtrack is indeed as haunting as the visual elements of
the film, and while not bringing any specific scenes to mind, it does conjure
that same emotions when listing to it. Composed by Taiwanese musician Chen Ming
Chang, this acoustic soundtrack combines proper
guitar playing with piano and more traditional instruments to create a sound as
if awakening from a meditative state, much as the film's conclusion alludes to.
The fact that the soundtrack doesn't particularly stand out on a first
viewing is its strength, merging with the visual elements perfectly, for a
singular audio-visual experience. While possibly blending into the background
of the wider whole as part of the film, the soundtrack is worthy in isolation
as a truly brilliant piece of music.
Hana-bi
The soundtrack for Kitano Takeshi's 'Hana-bi' is much more in the
foreground. Joe Hisaishi's piano and orchestral accompaniment is a key feature
of the film, notably the rostrum camerawork for Kitano's paintings used in the
film. For these montages, it feels almost as if the paintings accompany the
music, rather than vice versa. On listening, one can't help but recall Horibe's
musings as he contemplates his lot.
This is a soundtrack that works on all levels: a prominent feature
within the film; a stand-out piece of music in its own right; yet also evokes
scenes from the films as listening. 'Painters' is a particular example of this:
incidental, enjoyable and recallable all at once; as it 'Thank you...for
Everything'. The tracklisting very much works like chapter headings for the
film, forever associating the music with the film, but with the audio and
visual elements working so well together, this is no bad thing.
The strongest of Hisaishi's collaborations with Kitano, this rivals any
works he has composed for Miyazaki.
Dead or Alive (Dead or Alive: Hanzaisha)
Both the beginning and end of the first film of Miike's 'Dead or Alive'
trilogy are quite literally explosive. The in-between bits, however, are more a
sombre, moody and character-driven in Sho Aikawa's atmospheric pursuit of Riki
Takeuchi. And Koji Endo's soundtrack follows the brief, he was no doubt given,
to follow suit.
To start, thrash guitars blast over a near-endless montage of sex,
drugs, murder, guns, noodle-splatters, cocaine 'n' rock'n'roll. This gives the
misleading belief that you will be treated to a film of endless energy. The
reality is somewhat different, however, as Miike chooses a more measured route
for most of the film.
The opening scene is mindless, and the repetitive guitar likewise. The
remainder of the soundtrack is more incidental, atmospheric music, that - while
an intriguing mix of different instruments and sounds - is not as easily
recalled and standout in its own right. This is very much a film score.
Chungking Express (Chung Hing Sam Lam)
Wong Kar-wai's soundtracks are always a well-considered, hand-picked
selection of local flavours, re-imagined pop classics and obscure rhythms that
one can't exactly dance to. The soundtracks, therefore, are varied in style and
tempo, though do have a consistency in quality. 'Chungking Express' is perhaps
one of the more commercial soundtracks from his films, combining a number of
well-known tunes, though not always in original form; the film's star Faye Wong
covering a couple of well-known songs
from the hit parade.
The song perhaps dominating the film is the Mamas and Papas'
'California Dreamin''; Faye Wong's character playing it continuously on loop as
she works the counter of her food stall. Though this is a film of two halves,
and a soundtrack that is likewise. The first-half dominated by Takeshi
Kaneshiro's lovesick detective giving a slicker, more noir mood, countered by
the more lively second half of the film, with Faye Wong and Tony Leung's unspoken
romance.
There has been more than one release of the soundtrack, naturally with
pre-released songs featured, some were not originally included, though recent
re-issues have seen them restored, but perhaps led to some 'filler' tracks not
necessarily included in the film to feature on certain versions. The subsequent
'Fallen Angels' and 'Happy Together' had soundtracks in a similar vein.
Ghost in the Shell (Kokaku Kidotai)
In some films, the soundtrack can steal the show; all thoughts of the
film bring you back to its sound. 'Ghost in the Shell' is a seminal anime for a
number of reasons: its philosophy; the stunning visuals; and notably Kenji
Kawai's soundtrack is with us throughout. After the infamous 'thermoptics'
scene, with Major Kusanagi falling into invisibility at the film's start, the
film is brought into life with the spine-tingling 'Making of Cyborg', reprised
for the standout scene as Kusanagi wanders the cityscape.
Each scene is matched perfectly with the accompanying music to the
point where even the silence is perfectly chosen; wonderfully atmospheric as
the film moves. For all the film's strengths, when recalling key scenes, the
sound is something that comes to mind as much as anything, playing along in the
mind with the visuals. Sometimes it is worth watching simply for the soundtrack
alone, though I've got it on CD, so don't have to.
The films of the 1990s were much less polished in them days, though
there was a lot more artistry for it. Soundtracks are part of this. With the
increasing decline in physical media, particularly in film, and the disposable
nature of music in the new millennium, film soundtracks are something that
could get easily lost and forgotten, when a good soundtrack can make or break
the enjoyment of a film. While they have always been something quite difficult
to get your hands on and for the purists, studying the soundtrack in isolation
is an important part of film critique.
Hopefully the resurgence of vinyl will lead to
an increase in re-issues of soundtracks to be enjoyed without having to stream,
such as the re-release of the 'Chungking Express' soundtrack last year.
Otherwise, you're forking out £200+ to enjoy some random music that most others
have little-to-no interest in...Actually, you can maybe see why it's not such a
viable commercial option...
Takashi Miike isn't quite as prolific as he used to be at his height
around fifteen years ago. Now, he works to a casual two or three films a year,
rather than his exhausting six or seven on the early Naughties. But, has the
drop in quantity resulted in a upturn in quality?
Miike films have always been up and down in terms of quality, switching
from bigger budget films, like 'Audition' and 'Ichi the Killer' to low-rent,
low quality dross, such as 'Silver' or 'Family'. But this was always Miike's
charm. The switching of budget, writers, cast, styles and genres resulted in a
lot of experimenting, with ideas from the bad benefiting the good.
Now established and of international renown, his films come with
anticipation and expectation - maybe to his films' detriment. He could make a
bad film before, and no one would realise. Now if he does we'll all hear about
it. Recent films, such as '13 Assassins', 'For Love's Sake, 'Hara-kiri' and 'Lessons
of Evil' show a more established director, trusted with bigger budgets and
international film festival screenings. And while these have their moments, they
are not quite as fun and inventive as his earlier works.
'Yakuza Apocalypse' is his latest film to come with a hint of
anticipation as to what might be. With his need to cover each and every genre,
we now see him take on the vampire film, set among the yakuza. Kamiura is a
local yakuza boss, with the respect of those around him. But he has a secret:
he's a yakuza vampire, if there is such a thing. This, however, attracts some
unwanted attention, and he is destroyed by his rivals. Though before his
demise, he bites his loyal lieutenant, Kageyama, transferring his powers unto
him. Seen as a Matrix-style 'The One' , he sets about getting revenge, though
by this point, ordinary civilians have turned into yakuza vampires themselves,
creating a world of chaos where the old, everyday yakuza have no place.
Being a vampire film, this is of course very silly, with moments that
make me largely avoid ever watching films of this ilk, actors tested in their
ability to give the most stupid of performances with a straight face. This does
add a sense of fun to the film and comparisons to his Nineties films 'Fudoh'
and 'Full metal Yakuza' can be made, taking a more zany and comic-book approach
to the yakuza genre. Indeed, 'Yakuza Apocalypse' very much feels like it could
have been a manga, and I'm surprised one hasn't yet been made - to the best of
my knowledge, anyway.
However, the aforementioned films had a bit more edge to them than
'Yakuza Apocalypse'. There's something about the handheld camerawork and straight-to-video
feel of these films that suits the more outlandish style, rather than the big
sets and production values of his more recent films. The kappa and costumed
characters are fun, but feel a bit weird for the sake of being weird, perhaps
over-used to the point where it can become a bit farcical. The final fight
scene between Kageyama and 'The Raid 2's' Yayan Ruhian is unnecessarily
overdrawn, with little real action and suits as a disappointing end, a far cry
from the unexpected and instant conclusion of 'Dead or Alive'.
But if you take away any serious attempts at analysis, this is a fun
film, with a little bit of everything thrown in. The cast is full of known
people, with Hayato Ichihara looking suitably half alive as Kageyama throughout
and appearing-everywhere-now Kiyohiko Shibukawa expressing his full range of
bemused faces.
At his best, Miike's films are easily watchable over and over. His more
recent films, while enjoyable on first viewing, are less repeatable, and so it
will remain to be seen whether 'Yakuza Apocalypse' sits nicely alongside his
extensive catalogue of experiments that, while varying in quality, always create
curiosity.
