Have you ever wondered where Quentin Tarantino got his signature style? Are you, like me, a super fan of his two-part masterpiece, Kill Bill?
Well, it's about time you watched one of Seijun Suzuki's films.
Because I did, for the first time, and I was shocked at how fresh, immediate and vital a film from 1966 felt.
I. What Is It?
This is the story of Phoenix Tetsu, the right hand of a yakuza boss trying to go clean. When things get too hot in Tokyo, Tetsu goes on the road. But the most dangerous men from Tokyo's underworld come hunting after him.II. Style Over Substance, but Such Style
On paper, this movie is fairly basic. The story is a kind of ho-hum yakuza tough trying to make good story. The dialogue is ham-fisted and simple. The performances are cool-as-a-cucumber laid back anime caricatures.
But Seijun Suzuki injects a simple formula with a hotshot of style and verve. His camera is dynamic, his shot comp lively, and his use of larger-than-life sets with splashes of neon color is immediately iconic. Suzuki's underworld is peopled by cool gangsters in brightly colored, sharply tailored suits, and bold, creative locations. There is a jazz club with a sewer pipe theme that makes it look like some kind of swingin' Super Mario level. Takeo Kimura's production design is beautiful.
Hajime Kaburagi's score is jazzy, and infused with twangs of American surf-rock.
If you are going to lean on style, it helps to have impeccable taste. Seijun Suzuki was a master. This film stands as a testament to his style.
But Seijun Suzuki injects a simple formula with a hotshot of style and verve. His camera is dynamic, his shot comp lively, and his use of larger-than-life sets with splashes of neon color is immediately iconic. Suzuki's underworld is peopled by cool gangsters in brightly colored, sharply tailored suits, and bold, creative locations. There is a jazz club with a sewer pipe theme that makes it look like some kind of swingin' Super Mario level. Takeo Kimura's production design is beautiful.
Hajime Kaburagi's score is jazzy, and infused with twangs of American surf-rock.
If you are going to lean on style, it helps to have impeccable taste. Seijun Suzuki was a master. This film stands as a testament to his style.
III. Delightfully Insane
This movie is ridiculous. I've already spoken to its bonkers locations. But did I tell you about the singing? One of the things that annoys Tetsu's allies and enemies alike is his penchant for full-out singing, usually right before he strolls into a room, does a ridiculous tactical roll, and shoots every goon in the area. Then there's the batshit way Suzuki shoots his big bad, Otsuka. He keeps the camera away from the face, or purposefully tight on Otsuka's sun-glass clad eyes. It establishes an instant sense of mystique and aura of cool.
And then there's the giant brawl in an American-western-themed bar, where everyone, including the can-can dancer and the American sailors, begin beating the ever-living shit out of each other. That's before the upper deck collapses and crashes to the ground. Yeah, ridiculous.
I mentioned earlier that the plot is a bit ho-hum, but it is imbued with a sense of playfulness. Suzuki weaves in traditional yakuza themes of loyalty and honor, but seems more intent on mocking and making light of those ideas and showing us how patently absurd it all is. These men are violent criminals: their insistence on a twisted moral code and ludicrous sense of honor is ridiculous. And Suzuki allows you to laugh at them.
This movie is ridiculous. I've already spoken to its bonkers locations. But did I tell you about the singing? One of the things that annoys Tetsu's allies and enemies alike is his penchant for full-out singing, usually right before he strolls into a room, does a ridiculous tactical roll, and shoots every goon in the area. Then there's the batshit way Suzuki shoots his big bad, Otsuka. He keeps the camera away from the face, or purposefully tight on Otsuka's sun-glass clad eyes. It establishes an instant sense of mystique and aura of cool.
And then there's the giant brawl in an American-western-themed bar, where everyone, including the can-can dancer and the American sailors, begin beating the ever-living shit out of each other. That's before the upper deck collapses and crashes to the ground. Yeah, ridiculous.
I mentioned earlier that the plot is a bit ho-hum, but it is imbued with a sense of playfulness. Suzuki weaves in traditional yakuza themes of loyalty and honor, but seems more intent on mocking and making light of those ideas and showing us how patently absurd it all is. These men are violent criminals: their insistence on a twisted moral code and ludicrous sense of honor is ridiculous. And Suzuki allows you to laugh at them.
IV. It Ain't Long
This movie feels epic, but it manages its story in a sleek 89 minutes. Of all of the films that are considered iconic and legendary, few can boast such a lean runtime. So, even if you don't like it, and how could you not, it won't waste any more of your time than is strictly necessary.
V. Should You See It?
Miscellany
- This movie feels like an anime. Or, rather anime feels like this film. Lupin the Third was inspired by this film's aesthetic.- This film was shot and edited in 28 days. Suzuki is no fan of storyboards, and favored a loose, improvisational style, often changing his mind and incorporating elements on the day.
- The studio, long frustrated with Suzuki's proclivity for stylistic bombast attempted to reign him in by severely limiting his budget. Undeterred, Suzuki instead began pioneering even stranger ways to craft this film. The production schedule was limited, and certain scenes had to be shortened and edited uniquely to make the film work as a whole. Suzuki seemed to prove the old adage that necessity is the mother of invention.
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