Director: Shion Sono.
Starring: Jun Kunimura, Shin’ichi Tsutsumi, Hiroki Hasegawa, Fumi Nikaidô, Gen Hoshino.
Running Time: 119 minutes.
Synopsis: An ultra-violent slice of insanity that is both a wild subversion of the Yakuza film and an affectionate tribute to the death of celluloid.
Somewhere, Quentin Tarantino is shuddering with pleasure. He doesn’t know why, but it’s because there was just a screening of WHY DON’T YOU PLAY IN HELL?, an ultra-violent, hyper-realist, blood soaked, Yakuza based ode to cinema that will leave lovers of cult film gleeful while everyone else wonders what the hell they just watched.
There are three narrative threads running parallel; A) An ongoing war between two clans of Yakuza, B) The runaway daughter of one of the heads of said gangs C) A group of amateur film makers called The Fuck Bombers waiting for their big break. A and C are seemingly unrelated until the third act when they collide in the most ludicrous manner, which is very much in keeping with the tone of the film.
From the speedy edits in the opening sequence to the cartoony violence that literally coats the lens with blood, things get progressively sillier. The surreal nature of the piece grows and grows, spiralling out of control until the finale which has to be seen to be believed. It’s more like KILL BILL than KILL BILL, even using some music that is chin-strokingly similar to that on Tarantino’s mix tape soundtrack. In fact, it stars Jun Kunimura as a grizzled crime boss, much like he did in KILL BILL and he suffers the same fate in both movies.
The performances are enjoyable all round, particularly from Shin’ichi Tsutsumi as a daffy, kimono wearing Yakuza boss. His manic swings between katana-wielding tough guy and rubber faced clown are the highlight of the film, with his brilliantly timed histrionics very much at home in the nutty surroundings. The breakout star will be no doubt be Fumi Nikaidô as a runaway starlet who pays for a boyfriend for the day. Tarantino will be sticking his enormous chin through her agent’s letterbox before sundown, mark my words. The Fuck Bombers are enjoyable with their endless film references as they run around clutching their Super 8 cameras. This tying in with the Japanese gangster feud makes the film feel like SON OF RAMBOW meets ICHI THE KILLER, which is no bad thing.
Unfortunately it’s all a little hollow. When things are so over the top, it’s difficult to get too invested in the characters. Only poor Yoshi (Gen Hoshino), the one-day boyfriend of the starlet actually feels human and is played with surprising realism in an unreal movie. There is meaning if you look for it in Sono’s latest extravagance, but it depends on how you want to read the film. He draws parallels between shooting with a camera and with a gun, particularly in the final scene. The film is ripe for discussion about how (in this case, extreme) violence is mediated through a lens and how implicit we are in it. By observing, are we in fact taking part? But then it’s very easy to over-intellectualise something that may just be a big goofy shoot-em-up.
Sono’s visuals are undeniably impressive. The fights’ choreography is enjoyably loopy and his frame is always filled with something luscious, be it the costume or the set design, and it’s a visual treat. It’s a right old laugh if you like this sort of thing, namely geeky, bloody, over-the-top insanity. It’s fun, but far too long and ultimately forgettable.
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