Matt Cooper Anime, Films

Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade (1999) by Hiroyuki Okiura

In the years following the Second World War Japan suffers a series of economic and social crises. With violence on the streets the government establishes an elite Capitol Police, heavily armed and armoured to counter the threats from various terrorist groups. Among these groups the most dangerous are the Sect, a band of revolutionaries. Kazuki Fuse (Yoshikatsu Fujiki), a member of the Capitol Police, runs down a young girl with a bomb yet refuses to shoot her. The girl detonates the bomb, killing herself and injuring Fuse. As he recovers after this narrow escape, Fuse’s superiors question him about the incident and force him to re-train. Fuse later meets Kei (Sumi Muto) at the grave of the young woman, who tells him that she is the girl’s sister. Kei and Fuse’s relationship develops, with both harbouring secrets that if revealed could jeopardize their safety.

“Jin-Roh” is part of a larger franchise including films, radio plays, and manga, devised by writer Mamoru Oshii (Ghost in the Shell). An exposition heavy preamble means that those unfamiliar with the rest of the series will easily follow the story, and “Jin-Roh” can be enjoyed as a stand-alone film. It takes place in an alternate history, one in which the Third Reich won the Second World War and occupied Japan. This is evident in the authoritarian designs and naming of the Panzer Corps. The film does a great job of depicting this alternative 1950’s, with a bleak cityscape infused with post-war noir aesthetics. The grimy streets and subdued colour palette create a sense of deprivation drawing on real-world environments but with anachronistic twists, such as the black, science-fiction inspired design of the Kerberous division. While Oshii clearly delights in world-building, and includes background about the political and judicial organization of this society, the central plot is a strikingly human affair. The relationship between Fuse and Kei is motivated by genuine emotion and believable threats based on their beliefs. There are occasional bursts of bloody violence, with bullets tearing through people, and the militarised police raiding terrorist hideouts, but for the most part it is a quiet, contemplative drama focussed on the turmoil that our protagonist is going through.

“Jin-Roh” questions the morality of its characters, putting their actions under the microscope and asking the audience to consider carefully their own notions of right and wrong. There is no black and white in the Capitol Police and the terrorists, and the film deliberately blurs the lines between their actions, with plotting on both sides. The second strand of the film concerns human nature, in particular the character of Fuse. Fuse’s vision of wolves viciously tearing a person apart seems to be an echo of his underlying nature, a violent individual further dehumanised in this dog-eat-dog society. The film’s bleak assessment is that he is not able to shake this predatory inclination. Whether it is society that has made him a monster, or simply that the society finds value in these latent atavistic tendencies, it makes for a uniquely interesting lead. A fantastic alternate history noir thriller with genuine depth of character and theme.

Matt Cooper Films

The Perfect Education (1999) by Ben Wada

18-year old schoolgirl, Kuniko (Hijiri Kojima), is kidnapped by a 43 year old man in this crime thriller. After being taken to her captor Iwazono’s (Naoto Takenaka) house, Kuniko is told that he doesn’t want to rape her, rather to groom her into a perfect sexual partner. His intention is to experience a true love and perfect sex, connecting body and mind. Kuniko is understandably disturbed by his behaviour but appears to slowly grow closer to him.

Based on a novel by Michiko Matsuda, with a screenplay by Kaneto Shindo, “The Perfect Education” is a curious film, owing a debt to Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita” in its theme. The film begins as a thriller, but soon develops into a relationship drama, with a battle of wits between Kuniko and Iwazono. Kuniko often commands him, goads him, denigrates him, while Iwazono appears as a pathetic figure, apologetic and more of a voyeur than a real threat. He tells Kuniko early on that he will cut her if she tries to leave, but she has soon manipulated him into getting her whatever she wants, taking her on holiday, and buying her new clothes. The uncomfortable subject matter is brilliantly utilised with excellent direction, by Ben Wada, and cinematography, often leading to conflicting feelings in the audience as we watch the power struggle between these two characters. Early on we see deep, ominous shadows in Iwazono’s apartment, later replaced by brighter settings, including on their holiday to an onsen resort. The various occupants of Iwazono’s apartment block provide comic relief, again creating an slightly disturbing tone by puncturing the tense drama happening in their same residence. The classical score likewise emphasises this strange disconnect and drift between light and dark, with an often uplifting, even romantic accompaniment to Kuniko and Iwazono’s strange relationship. The way the score swells before an abrupt stop again works to manipulate the audience and make them question exactly what is happening, whether we are likewise beginning to become inured to the danger of Iwazono. Hijiri Kojima gives a spellbinding performance as Kuniko, more than a match for Naoto Takenaka’s Iwazono.

“The Perfect Education” is an erotic crime thriller with a controversial theme that many viewers may find uncomfortable. It gets at the heart of what sex and relationships are about, a battle of desires and demands, with aggressor and victim often shifting places. The film’s nuance and apparent ambivalence about the fate of Kuniko give it a certain power, confronting the audience with these events while seemingly offering little in the way of commentary itself. The film perhaps gets close to revealing unpalatable truths about humanity and the psychology of relationships, leaving much unsaid and open to interpretation. In the end, it is up to the audience to take what they will from this story, but it is undeniably one that is thought-provoking and with two excellent performances from Kojima and Takenaka.

Matt Cooper Films

Moonlight Whispers (1999) by Akihiko Shiota

A tortured teenage love story touching on themes of perversion and control. Takuya Hidaka (Kenji Mizuhashi) and Satsuki Kitahara (Tsugumi) are classmates and members of the same high-school kendo club. Hidaka finally musters the courage to declare his love for Kitahara and shortly after they sleep together. The relationship is short-lived however, when Kitahara discovers that he recorded the sound of her urinating while at his house. She calls him a pervert and leaves in disgust. Later she begins dating Hidaka’s friend Tadashi (Kota Kusano). Hidaka pleads to be allowed to be near her and she begins to engage with his unusual desires, allowing him to watch her and Tadashi on a date and even having sex.

Based on a manga of the same name, with a screenplay by Yoichi Nishiyama and director Akihiko Shiota, “Moonlight Whispers” is certainly not a normal relationship drama, though it contains many features of the genre. It lures you in with the conventional romance of the young teen protagonists early in the film. The only sign that things may not progress smoothly is Hidaka stealing a sniff of Kitahara’s gym shorts from her locker. The actors all do a fantastic job with their characters. Hidaka and Kitahara capture the awkward, faltering of a first romance, while Kota Kusano’s confident Tadashi acts almost as a conventional romantic leading man in contrast with their twisted relationship. For a film dealing with the perversion of cuckolding, the film is rarely explicit, allowing the emotional import of the drama to drive the story, rather than the physical. One example of this is in the long take of Takuya sitting in a dark cupboard while he listens to the sounds of Satsuki and Tadashi’s lovemaking in the room. The swirl of emotions in the audience, discomfort, frustration, incomprehension, only growing stronger as the camera remains fixed on him. The cinematography largely leans on the romantic drama style, with soft-focus sunsets, and a realism in the dialogue scenes, an ironic counterpoint to the content of the story. The soundtrack, used sparingly, of delicate guitar, also suggests a more romantic story that what we are watching, heigtening the tension between expectation and reality that allows us to sympathise with the characters.

The film takes a unique look at relationships, focussing on a very particular fetish. Hidaka wants to observer Kitahara, to hold the perfect version of her in his mind, and completely fails when given the chance to have a physical relationship with the real Kitahara. He is utterly devoted to her, prepared to do anything for her, even when there is nothing in it for himself, and to go to incredible extremes to prove himself. But understandably, Kitahara is not interested in this, wanting a real relationship. However, she soon comes to indulge Hidaka, whether to satisfy him or herself is left ambiguous, but that is the heart of what the film is about. The obligations people have towards each other, the give-and-take of all romantic and sexual relationships is depicted starkly through this exaggerated example. We see the difference between Kitahara’s relationship with Hidaka and Tadashi, one asexual and based on a distinct power imbalance, while the other (perhaps considered more conventional) does not seem to satisfy her emotionally. A provocative film that forces the viewer to reassess their notions of romantic love and relationships.