Matt Cooper Films

Tokyo Decadence (1992) by Ryu Murakami

Ai (Miho Nikaido) is a young woman working as a prostitute specializing in S&M. It seems a career at odds with her shy, unassuming nature, as we witness her act out various perverse fantasies for her clients in an almost trance-like state, no evident sense of true pleasure. Ai’s trysts see her come into contact with men who appear equally empty, attempting through whatever means to re-establish some sort of feeling in their lives, numbed by drugs and the hedonism of a society in which they are unmoored from morality. When Ai learns that a former boyfriend, a well-renowned artist working abroad has returned to Japan she sets out to meet him, hoping that this might provide some closure for her.

Ryu Murakami, author of “Audition” and “Piercing”, directs this thriller based on his own novel, offering us a candid look at the sordid underbelly of Japanese society in the early nineties. The film’s pacing is slow, with an early scene in which Ai is hired by a gangster to perform various humiliating acts, before finally inviting his wife to have sex in front of her, creating a sense of oppressive claustrophobia, allowing us to fully sympathise with our protagonist. We learn little about either character, besides establishing the power dynamic, and as the loveless, sado-masochistic acts drag on long after any frisson of eroticism has faded we are left feeling hollow. For a film that includes so much nudity, sex and drug use, the film maintains this sensation of absolute numbness when it comes to the act of sex. We are drawn into the mundanity of Ai’s profession, and the lack of any true feeling existing beneath the hyper-eroticised exterior. The men are shown to be both cruel and pathetic, childish caricatures acting on pure lust. The film features several more ambiguous elements, such as Ai’s visit to a fortune-teller, who gives her three cryptic pieces of advice; and events later in the film when Ai meets a singer, which at first appears to be some kind of delusion. Miho Nikaido’s performance as the central character is what holds the film together, as we sympathise with her predicament; see the various revelations she makes about society and human relations; and hope that she finally finds whatever it is she is looking for. The film’s methodical pacing, focussing on this stunning performance, along with the score by Ryuichi Sakamoto, lends the film an artistic air that might seem at odds with the plot of S&M and drug-taking. But it is this juxtaposition, showing us acts which would usually excite to be at best mildly interesting diversions, that highlights the disconnect the characters are feeling. In a world in which anything is possible, they have become jaded and lost any sense of pleasure.

“Tokyo Decadence” shows us a world that is bleak in its outlook. The male characters are largely callous, childish, manifestations of their basest desires for lust and power, while the women are forced to service them. It is this stark realisation that we may be little more than our animal instincts, that prompts Ai to search for more. A dominatrix later tells her than the problem with men is that they have money but no pride. They are living a hedonistic, drug-fuelled, sex-obsessed existence, and unable to develop as humans. Ai is trapped in a similarly depressed, anomic state having lost a meaningful relationship and fallen into meaningless sex-work. In a post-credits sequence we are offered a glimmer of hope as it appears that Ai has finally taken ownership over her own life, though we are left to wonder to what extent she has control of her situation. A curious film that acts as a character study of a women attempting to come to terms with her life following a break-up and to understand the darker side of human nature, while striving to hold on to whatever good might be left in the world.

Matt Cooper Films

Sex and Fury (1973) by Norifumi Suzuki

Directed by Norifumi Suzuki, “Sex and Fury” is a prime example of the blend of brutal violence and nudity promised by the Pinky Eiga genre. Set in the Meiji era it is awash with the paranoia of foreign influence, corruption, drugs, Christianity, and secretive plots amongst the elites. Amidst this new world Ocho appears as a vengeful revenant, tearing veneer of respectability to achieve her revenge for past wrongs. Reiko Ike is bold and charismatic as the main character, using her sexuality and fearsome swordfighting skills as equally powerful weapons; most evident in the sequence in which she takes on a whole gang of swordwielding assassins completely naked. In a similar vein to Meiko Kaji’s heroine in “Lady Snowblood” (released the following year), Ike is the superstar lead to the drama. The supporting cast,includes Christina Linberg as a foreign spy; Hiroshi Nawa and Seizaburo Kawazu as suitably slimy villains; and Masataka Naruse as the anarchist intent on bringing them to justice. The film is based on a novel by Taro Bonten, which perhaps explains the depth of characterisation and interpersonal relationships that drive the narrative. Each protagonist has a sense of purpose, whether vengeance, reuniting with a former lover, escaping or delivering justice, and all are believable in their determination to achieve their goal. The direction is fluid, occasionally frenetic, driving forward the story. The obligatory nude scenes, often revolving around sexual assault, brutal torture sequences, bathing, or the aforementioned naked fight sequence, only occasionally break the flow and are largely explicable within the plot.

Highly entertaining with an outstanding central performance from Reiko Ike, “Sex and Fury” stands as a supreme example of the revenge film. With a large cast of characters and subplots involving the relationship between Christina and Shunosuke, there is plenty to keep your attention. The set piece fight sequences are well-done and the quality of the sets and costumes lend an air of respectability to the sexploitation plot. Worth a watch for fans of “Lady Snowblood” and revenge thrillers, “Sex and Fury” establishes a new heroine in the genre.

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

Blind Beast (1969) by Yasuzo Masumura

A kidnapping victim begins to sympathise with her captor in this tale of moral degeneracy and sado-masochistic lust. Aki Shima (Mako Midori) is a model who has recently found fame as the subject of an exhibition of erotic photography and sculpture by a famous artist. While visiting the gallery she sees a blind man running his hands over the statue of her, an eerie sight that causes to her to flee. She is later abducted by this man, Michio (Eiji Funakoshi) and his mother (Noriko Sengoku), and taken to a remote warehouse. This warehouse is Michio’s studio, where he sculpts body parts. Born without sight, he intends to use Aki as a model for a new work of art, one born of the sense of touch. After a few failed escape attempts, Aki finally gives in to Michio and the two later begin a sado-masochistic physical relationship that grows increasingly violent as they attempt to push the boundaries of pleasure and pain.

Based on a story by the master of skin-crawling horror Edogawa Rampo, “Blind Beast” is a film that confronts the audience with a creepy, and subtly terrifying scenario. When we see Michio caressing the statue, and later Aki herself, there is something unseemly about it, making real the metaphorical objectification of the female form. The story is pared back to provide a simple yet effective horror tale, featuring only three actors and largely taking place in the same large warehouse studio. Mako Midori’s Aki Shima is a sympathetic heroine, making attempts to flee, wilful and yet drawn irresistably into the moral void of Micho’s world. Eiji Funakoshi is a sinister villain, playing the unassuming psychopath role with unnerving charm. The main setting of the film, the warehouse-cum-studio is an almost fantastical space, the walls hung with large sculpted noses, eyes, and limbs, and the floor taken up with a giant model of a naked woman. This focus on the body and human form makes us aware of every itch and tingle, every spine-chilling or toe-curling moment emphasised by the fact we are trapped in Michio’s world of physical touch. This is helped by the excellent direction of Yasuzo Masumura, utilising shifts into deep black to depict both Michio’s blindness and depravity. Hikaru Hayashi’s score is features strangely romantic melodies that make us question what is happening between the protagonists as they sink into debauchery and violence. “Blind Beast” avoids graphic depictions of what is happening, cutting away from the worst moments, while at the same time blending the emotional and the physical to the extent that the audience has no choice but to feel each cut as they begin their journey of sado-masochistic excess.

Michio is a typical horror villain, sexual repression leading to deviancy, his Oedipal relationship with his mother, and apparently preternatural abilities to hunt his quarry by smell and sound. However, Michio can also be seen as a stand-in for male lust and moral degeneracy in general. His single minded pursuit of Aki, his attempts to capture her and reproduce her form, to contain her, provide metaphorical potential for those looking to draw societal messages from the film. Likewise, Aki is a symbol of female emancipation, turning her body to her own financial gain, strong-willed, independent, and cautious, she is far from a helpless heroine. In its final third the film begins to delve into far more Freudian territory, moving fully away from a sense of realism as Aki loses her sight and becomes a counterpart to Michio, engaging in acts of hedonistic abandon and mutual destruction. “Blind Beast” questions human desire and posits an inevitable tendency towards violence and death, drawing out timeless themes of Eros and Thanatos in a film that creates a powerful atmosphere through stunning acting and direction. There is something mythological about the horrifying finale that will stay with you long after the film is over.

Matt Cooper Films

Luxurious Bone (2001) by Isao Yukisada

Miyako (Kumiko Aso) works as a call-girl, living with her friend Sakiko (Tsugumi Otake) with whom she shares a bond that hovers over the border of sisterhood and life partners. After encountering a client, Shintani (Masatoshi Nagase), with whom Miyako experiences sexual pleasure for the first time in her life, the two women begin to drift apart. Miyako suggests that Shintani should sleep with Sakiko, an event that draws the three into a love triangle in which their various flaws and anxieties are reflected.

“Luxurious Bone” begins with poetic sentiments being recited over the credits, followed by bones being removed from a crematorium furnace. This proves to be an apt set up for a film that is both artistic, meaning glimpsed through fragments of character and story, and with an underlying melancholy. Written by director Isao Yukisada and screenwriter Shoichi Masahiko, the story is relatively straightforward, revolving around the three main characters and their complicated relationship, and the film expects the audience to be familiar with these archetypes, rarely delving too deeply into their backgrounds. Many things are left unsaid, or rather left to viewer interpretation, with direction, lighting and cinematography often standing in for dialogue. Sakiko’s broken leg, the phantom bone that seems permanently lodged in Mayuko’s throat, or the three goldfish confined to a blender, are all clues to what is happening internally with the characters. The performances of Aso, Otake and Nagase are exceptional, with very few supporting characters they manage to keep the audience’s attention with their portrayals of these complex characters. Miyako has resigned herself to a life of prostitution to support Sakiko, while longing for something more. Shintani is perhaps the most mysterious, perhaps intended simply as a catalyst between Miyako and Sakiko, but with shocking moments that indicate a more conflicted character. Sakiko is the most sympathetic and we learn most about her, but many things are never satisfactorily resolved, a common theme across the film.

The film asks a lot of its audience, rarely stating its intentions clearly. It is for the viewer to piece together what is happening with the characters through a fore-knowledge of typical romantic stories, and the various visual clues presented. There are themes of the relationship between sex and love, with a clear distinction between Miyako’s work as a call-girl, which gives her no pleasure either physically or emotionally, and her relationship with Sakiko, which operates on a deeper level. There is also the peculiar idea that Miyako wants to reach Sakiko, to create a bond with her, through Shintani, using a surrogate lover to connect the two women. The film’s occassional graphic eroticism and brief flash of fish-based gore, may seem out of place in a film that appears quite tame on the surface, but that would be to misunderstand the depth of feeling that is raging behind the characters. A curious romantic drama that plays on themes of human connection and the difficulty in expressing our feelings clearly.