Matt Cooper Films

Shin Kamen Rider (2023) by Hideaki Anno

The Kamen (or “Masked”) Rider character is a long-standing Japanese superhero who needs little introduction to the domestic audience having appeared in popular manga and television series. Hidaki Anno’s reboot does a great job of introducing the character to those less familiar with him. An insect-human hybrid (or “Aug” as they are known in this world), our protagonist Takeshi Hongo (Sosuke Ikematsu) has had his DNA fused with that of a grasshopper, gaining that insect’s incredible agility and other abilities. Hongo is given a brief run-down of his new powers by Doctor Midorikawa (Shinya Tsukamoto) who worked on the program that created him, before Hongo sets off with the doctor’s daughter, Ruriko (Minami Hamabe) to fight the other animal human hybrids (including a bat, scorpion, and wasp) before taking on the ultimate danger: the Butterfly Aug, Ruriko’s brother Ichiro, who is determined to steal the life energy from every living thing on earth. Hongo is also joined by a second Masked Rider in the form of Hayato Ichimonji (Tasuku Emoto), who is at first reluctant to fight alongside him.

Director Hideaki Anno (best known for the “Evangelion” franchise) was brought up on shows such as Kamen (“Masked”) Rider, with their mix of bizarre Sci-Fi action and genre bending plots. His love of the series shines through here (Anno co-wrote the film with Shotaro Ishinomori who worked on the series) as “Shin Kamen Rider” doesn’t attempt to modernise or update the original, instead retaining the feel of an older, serialized drama. The costumes may have been slightly modified, but are still recognizably those of the original. Everything from the wacky plots, the fight-sequences that take place in abandoned industrial sites, to the melodramatic score by Taku Iwasaki, it all feels nostalgic for a different era of superheroes. The higher budget is evidenced in a couple of stand-out fight sequences: the anime-inspired duel with Wasp-Aug (Nanase Nishino), and the superhero-esque battle involving Tasuku Emoto’s second masked rider. The film’s action sequences are decidedly brutal, with copious amounts of blood spattered around and the choreography is fun, again reminicent of older martial arts films. Anno’s direction is a great fit for this film, with his use of creative camera angles and willingness to utilise a variety of styles, moving from simple one-on-one battles to special effects laden sequences, creating that manic tone befitting the live-action comic action. Fans of the original series will no doubt enjoy this new take on the character, familiar but with a modern polish, while those new to Kamen Rider will enjoy the retro-action.

Perhaps surprisingly for a series based on the premise that motorbikes and insects are cool, “Shin Kamen Rider” has a surprising thematic and emotional depth. The central idea running throughout is humanity’s search for happiness, something both protagonists and antagonists continually refer to. The villains wish to either control everyone, thereby destroying free will and the potential for negative emotions; or simply remove their souls, again with the same effect. The protagonists on the other hand, realise that this is not an ideal solution and instead wonder if it is possible to find happiness while maintaining a sense of individual identity. Other ideas thrown into the mix are themes of transhumanism and the potential advances in genomic science, and Artificial Intelligence; and no retro-science fiction would be complete without a sinister capitalist corporation exploiting science for military application and profit. “Shin Kamen Rider” in many ways is an antidote to the recent slew of reboots and remakes which attempt to modernise their properties or make them more in keeping with modern sensibilities. Instead the film revels in nostalgia, with its off-beat explanations of the various elements that were perhaps never intended to be explained, and brings us right back to the feeling original audiences must have felt sitting in front of the television waiting expectantly for the next instalment. A fun, nostalgic superhero film that is sure to bring new audiences to the franchise.

Matt Cooper Films

Girl’s Blood (2014) by Koichi Sakamoto

An all-female martial arts troupe is thrown into disarray with the arrival of a new member. “Girl’s Blood” are a group of women who battle it out in front of exuberant spectators in a cross between the fighting style of MMA (bouts taking place in an octagon with few apparent rules) and the extravagant costumes and characters of pro-wrestling (including a dominatrix, a nurse, and a police woman). One of their top fighters, Satsuki (Yuria Haga), is troubled when new member Chinatsu (Asami Tada) joins their group. Not only does Chinatsu not pull her punches in the arena, she also threatens to expose Satsuki’s hidden sexuality. The two soon begin a romantic affair; one that is jeapordized with the reappearance of Chinatsu’s husband who runs a rival martial arts group.

Based on the novel “Aka x Pink” by Kazuki Sakuraba, “Girl’s Blood” is an erotic action film, with a heady blend of fight scenes and gratuitous sex and nudity. Despite its low-brow exploitation trappings the film tells a surprisingly romantic story, with Satsuki and Chinatsu’s relationship providing a strong central plot around which the more extreme elements revolve. A majority of the film’s lengthy run time (a little over 2 hours) is taken up either with fighting or the women undressing, showering, or making love. The fight choreography is strong and entertaining, with the over the top theatrics of the in-ring tussles, or the street-fights that propel the plot forward. While the sex in the equation may be gratutious it doesn’t feel particularly egregious, with the lesbian romance at least lending a degree of respectability. One sour note is the sexual assault and rape that takes place later in the film, that feels unecessarily violent and out of place. The cast all do a good job with the action and bring their distinct, if rather unbelievable, characters to life. Yuna Haga’s Satuski hides her vulnerability behind a facade of gruff aggression; while Asami Tada’s Chinatsu goes through a series of transformations that see her both despised and pitied. The supporting cast, particularly Ayami Misaki as Miko and Rina Koike as Mayu, are also engaging with small side-plots that tie into the larger themes. Oddly, all the players in “Girl’s Blood” are introduced with anime-style openings, but aside from these four the others remain as stereotypical background. It would have been great to see a series with each of these getting a chance to shine.

At the heart of “Girl’s Blood” is a story about female empowerment, acceptance of sexuality, and overcoming trauma. We learn at the beginning of the film that Satsuki is estranged from her parents, a situation that seems to be commonplace amongst several of the characters. Miko was also thrown out of home while Mayu ran away. These women’s relationships with their mothers are strained at best, utterly shattered at worst. It is an interesting element to their characters with their profession as fighters, and their unique characters, a physical representation of their different yet comparable struggles. It is this lack of maternal affection that seems to shape and drive them and provides the film with it’s most interesting thematic through-line. The latter half plot involving a fight between “Girl’s Blood” and the rival “Ando Ichimon” club is almost nonsensical; as are numerous minor details such as the oddly varied crowd at the women’s events and whether they are intended to be martial artists or pro-wrestlers (two distinct professions). However, many of the more ridiculous elements can be forgiven with the entertaining performances and heartfelt message about overcoming your past and following your heart.

Matt Cooper Films

The Legend and Butterfly (2023) by Keishi Otomo

A historical epic detailing the relationship between Nobunaga Oda (Takuya Kimura) and his wife Nohime (Haruka Ayase). Oda is a figure who looms large over Japan’s warring states period, one of the most recognizable names of the time with a reputation as a ferocious military commander. “The Legend and Butterfly” begins with the lord as a young man; immature, inexperienced, and spoiled by his position. He is married to the daughter of a neighbouring lord in an attempt to broker a truce between their two regions. The woman, Nohime, is more than a match for the precocious young man; fiercely intelligent and beautiful there is a suggestion she has been sent there as an assassin by her father. Despite a mutual distrust and even hatred between the two, as the years go by they learn to work together and come to love one another, with Oda’s victories in part due to the tactical brilliance of Nohime. The film spans several decades and documents Oda’s rise to great power, becoming the recognizable warlord of historical record.

Little is known of Nohime and Nobunaga Oda’s relationship and writer Ryota Kosawa therefore takes certain liberties with their story. It is exciting to see the characterisations of these historical figures and both Takuya Kimura and Haruka Ayase give moving performances with great chemistry together. It is far from a traditional love story, even with the film-maker’s attempts to make things more romantic and fitting to modern sensibilities. Instead the film retains a sense of reality in showing that these matches were often more political alliances than passionate affairs. The fantastic production value is evidenced in everything from the large casts and sets, the colourful costumes that bring the period to vivid life, and the occasional action sequences (director Keishi Otomo previously worked on the Rurouni Kenshin series and his skill as an action director shows here). Naoki Sato’s score further adds to this sense of a lavish epic. The main failing of the film is in a lack of a unifying narrative; told over such a long period it often feels more like a beautifully rendered docu-drama than a love-story or historical epic. There are many spectacular sequences, but they feel a little disjointed. The story of Oda and Nohime is interesting, but the subtlety of their relationship and adherence to historical accuracy (they are often apart and moments of romance between them are sparse) may leave some viewers cold, especially if you are expecting something more melodramatic. The second strand to the story, that of Oda’s transformation from an inept young lord to the fearsome and merciless commander, is likewise interesting, but often omits the why and how of him becoming this dispassionate leader. In attempting to balance these two strands the film falls somewhere between an out-and-out romance and historical action film. Early on we see a hint that perhaps the relationship between the two will have some relevance to how his military career developed, but this connection becomes more tenuous as the film progresses.


“The Legend and Butterfly” is an impressive historical epic, with incredible set-piece moments and two standout performances from its leads. The tragedy of both characters seems to be the time in which they were born. Both express an interest in foreign musicians they see at a fair, and in a dream sequence towards the end of the film, Oda imagines a possible alternate future for the two where they set sail from Japan to travel together as a peaceful, loving couple. In other ages this might have been possible, but their fates were set by being born in a militaristic society that prided prowess in battle above all else and often denigrated women to the role of child-bearers. The unconventional story, awkwardly balancing facts with a more romanticised fiction, can seem strange at times, but there is so much to enjoy here, from the fantastic sets and costumes, excellently choreographed fight-sequences, and two stand-out performances from the charismatic leads.

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 Television

Alice in Borderland Series 2 (2022)

Series 2 picks up right where we left off, with Arisu (Kento Yamazaki) and his new friends taking on the face card challenges in the hopes of finding their way out of the bizarre other world they are trapped in. Episode one begins with a burst of violence as the King of Spades guns people down mercilessly in a much-changed Shibuya, showing that nobody is safe. This proves to be true as the deaths pile up throughout the series, including several shocks. We see several more games this time around, all ultra-violent twists on old classics, such as a guessing game where the losers are doused in corrosive acid, or a high-octane game of tag that sees contestants running around a giant industrial structure. The large budget is evident on screen in the fantastic sets and special effects, particularly bringing to life an abandoned Tokyo overgrown with weeds, and the swooping, wide-angle shots that make the unreal seem believable. There are elements of disaster movie, action, romance, and science-fiction that are all underscored with the central emotional drama of the main cast. Most are returning characters, with the inclusion of newcomer Yuri Tsunematsu as a no-nonsense high-school girl. The central mystery is not unravelled until the final episode, and then with a couple of entertaining misdirections (referencing two other popular ‘death game’ series, “Kaiji” and “Gantz”). Wrapping things up is a big task and the solution may prove unsatisfactory for some viewers who were hoping for a different explanation as to what happened, but it does a solid job of bringing together the themes of the show in a way that feels fitting.

The ‘Death Game’ genre lives or dies on its characters. “Alice in Borderland” remains opaque enough throughout that viewers are free to interpret its message as they like. It works as a socio-political satire with the unseen forces of the world putting its citizens through a meat grinder. The arbitrariness of death, the senseless nature of the games, the unbeatable odds, all lend themselves to interpretation, either philosophical or political. The series’ intent is to shock its viewers into living life rather than losing hope. It shouts at us that we need to keep fighting, to keep trying, however hard or futile things seem, and that in the end the only thing that matters is life. Throughout Arisu is searching for an answer, a meaning to his life, or an explanation to this world, and the series continues to deny this to him, and by extension the audience. In the instance that the truth is revealed we are almost beyond the point where the answer has any meaning to us. Instead the underlying message of the series is that of human solidarity in the face of adversity, confronting our mortality, and the idea of simply living as an end in itself.