Matt Cooper Films

Gonin (1995) by Takashi Ishii

Five men attempt to escape the brutal vengeance of the Yakuza after stealing 100 million yen from them. Club owner Bandai (Koichi Sato) is in debt to the Yakuza who come to his club to harrass him. He recruits knife-weidling fraudster Mitsuya (Masahiro Motoki), ex-detective Hizu (Jinpachi Nezu), violent tearaway Jimmy (Kippei Shiina), and an unemployed salaryman (Naoto Takenaka), all of whom either have monetary worries or a vendetta against the Yakuza, in a daring raid on the offices of the group. Following their heist, the Yakuza hire two hitmen, played by Takeshi Kitano and Kazuya Kimura, to find the men responsible.

Written and directed by Takashi Ishii, “Gonin” is a stylish crime thriller with a great cast of central characters. The slight backstories give us enough to sympathise with them, through their planned robbery and the merciless hunting of them that follows. This group of anti-heroes all have their own peculiarities and the film lets us see the psychological turmoil they are going through. The early part of the film takes its time to establish their circumstances, which makes the final third even more thrilling as we watch their attempts to escape the hitmen that have been assigned to kill them. The film’s oppressive noir atmosphere is perfectly encapsulated in the various night-scenes and shootouts in the pouring rain. This is a world that is awash with violence, drugs, avaricious mobsters, and brutal repercussions and the superb score by Goro Yasukawa underlines the tensions and tragedy of those involved.

“Gonin” presents the image of a deeply depressing world, where no deed goes unpunished. The senseless violence drives home the point that any involvement with the criminal underworld is likely to end poorly, whatever your intentions. Violence begets violence and the cycle continues. The film also forefronts homosexuality, with both the protagonists and antagonists, which nods to the idea that heroes and villains are distinguished only by their actions. The final shot of the film also highlights this duality in man and we are left to wonder what will become of a world in which violence is permitted to flourish.

Matt Cooper Films

Ran (1985) by Akira Kurosawa

Kurosawa relocates the drama of Shakespeare’s “King Lear” to feudal era Japan in this epic of betrayed loyalties and warring sons. Aging lord Hidetora (Tatsuya Nakadai) decides to resign his power to his eldest son, Taro (Akira Terao), gifting him the largest of his castles. His second son, Jiro (Jinpachi Nezu), is also to recieve a castle and lands, along with his youngest Saburo (Daisuke Ryu). While Taro and Jiro gracefully accept, Saburo opposes the plan, suggesting his father has lost his mind. He is exiled for his brazen honesty along with Tango (Masayuki Yui), a loyal retainer who agrees with Saburo. It is not long before Hidetora realizes his error, as his eldest sons banish him from their castles, flexing their newly granted authority. Hidetora finds himself wandering alone with his jester Kyoami (Peter), reluctant to call on his youngest son for help.

Akira Kurosawa is highly-regarded as the master of the historical action genre, with films such as “Seven Samurai” and “Yojimbo”. In “Ran” we see his directorial skill on full display with stunning vistas and set-pieces at every turn. The landscapes are beautifully shot and are a supporting character, reflecting the temperaments of the main cast. Kurosawa creates compositions that are works of art in their own right: characters backlit by the sunset or standing amongst wind-blown grass; soldiers marshalled in distinctive colours that reflect their lord’s personalities; and every facet of human emotion depicted powerfully through action and expression. The magnificent cast give theatrical performances, often over-emphasizing their reactions, but it works for the large-scale drama that is unfolding. The score by Toru Takemitsu is utilised efficiently, growing in intensity at moments of high tension, or drums bolstering the troops as they ride to battle. It is equally notable in its absence, with scenes played out in silence gaining in impact.

“Ran” feels like a very personal film for Kurosawa. Following his hey-day in the black-and-white film era, it seems as though he is out to prove himself by crafting a masterpiece on an epic scale. We see in Hidetora a man who is at the end of his career, wishing to retire in peace, and concerned for his legacy after misplacing his trust in his sons. Throughout the film, set in the late samurai period, we see guns viciously cutting down mounted samurai and archers, a nod to the notion that the march of progress can be a brutal affair, with older generations soon forgotten. No doubt Kurosawa was similiarly concerned with his formidable reputation being ignored as he entered the later stage of his career, and considering what his legacy would be. Another of the film’s central themes, one that was also close to Kurosawa’s heart, is the propensity to violence of mankind, and generational violence. The tragedy of Hidetora is that he is undone by his son’s in precisely the cruel, calculating way he dealt with his own foes. Their inheritance from him in cold, merciless, martial thinking, leads directly to his downfall. There are nods to religion, but not in an overbearing way, suggesting that there is an alternative peaceful path that people might take, averting the catastrophe of endless war. The idea of karma is also strong in the film, with Hidetora’s past actions catching up with him in his later years. One by one he comes into contact with those he has wronged in the past. Taro’s wife, Kaede (Mieko Harada), is herself the victim of one of his conquests; as is Jiro’s wife, Sue (Yoshiko Miyazaki), and her brother Tsurumaru (Mansai Nomura). He is haunted by the memory of what he has visited on others, even as the consequences of his actions begin to overwhelm him. A sublime film showing Kurosawa’s skill at dramatic storytelling and action set-pieces, this timeless classic secures his legacy for many generations to come.