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It says a lot about a movie that you’re actually glad to see the (real) sperm dripping into the title sequence because at least the bloody girl isn’t being beaten and raped anymore. In fact, if you can last that long, the rest will be somewhat easier to take. Intestines and offal seem pretty tame after the opening scenes.
It also says a lot about a movie that the most savage killer is the only character who seems at all sympathetic. Ichi is a slightly retarded young man who is easily manipulated by a man who reverse-gaslights him, causing him to believe that he is avenging past wrongs. These fantastical memories center around a fictional rape which he felt powerless to stop, even as he was aroused by it. When he is goaded to kill, wearing a black latex outfit with massive razors built into the heels, he cries like a little boy, but dutifully slices up everyone within reach, leaving carnage so incredibly messy that people entering the room have difficulty keeping their feet. Then he masturbates, if he can.
The action centers around Ichi’s assassinations of the leaders and members of a Yakuza gang, Anjo, under the direction of his manipulator, Jijii (Shinya Tsukamoto); and the gang’s efforts to find him, savagely torturing everyone in their path who might have information about him. Although there’s far more violence directed toward men than women overall, the bloody beatings of women are featured prominently, even lovingly, by director Takashi Miike.
It’s tempting to write off such a movie as sensationalistic, but there is a tremendous payoff for those who can stick with it. The plot progression, such as it is, serves mainly to bring together four figures who swirl ever more tightly about eachother in an increasingly taut maelstrom of Freudian psychodrama; guilt and innocence, love and hatred, pleasure and pain, truth and falsehood, life and death.
Kakihara (Tadanobu Asano) (“Kah-keera”) is a jaded, yet calm and happy psychopath searching for his boss’ killer, and looking for thrills along the way as he tortures people with an intensity that would make a cat blush. Takashi obviously has brought forth the complex figure of this anti-hero from deep within his own psyche. The viewer is spared nothing in Kakihara’s quest to find out what happened to his boss; genital mutilation pops up twice on the menu. A man has his arm ripped off. Another is suspended by large fishhooks in his back and scalded with boiling oil. We learn that Kakihara is most attuned to those like himself, and shows little or no interest in those who are not savage or corrupted already.
The circle of violence draws the central figures tighter and closer together into the maelstrom of their destinies. Kaneko (Hiroyuki Tanaka) and his son, Takeshi (Hiroshi Kobayashi) are the other two central characters, and one could argue that Takeshi is in actuality the primary, archetypal figure in this entire psychodrama, representing the young, innocent Ichi: this entire movie has been set up to depict the unforgettable confrontation that transpires between he and Ichi at the denouement, with Kakihara and Keneko playing Freudian complements of them both. It’s a brilliant climax, where all four come together and swap their roles so freely amongst eachother that the unbroken circle of violence, innocence and tragedy is heartbreaking. It’s Shakespeare with a Hong Kong kung-fu atmosphere (without much kung-fu) and many, many buckets of gore.
Tadanobu Asano gives a stellar performance as Kakihara, relishing the role without chewing the scenery. It’s amazing that someone – anyone – can be tasteful in such a role, but he nails the part with a casual aplomb which is both invigorating and disturbing. When he tells his cohorts, with a boyish grin, that he’s scared, the viewer begins to understand the thrill he derives from Ichi’s brutality.
If you have a weak stomach, you’ll never last to see the opening credits, and there’s no shame in that. I don’t advise trying it. I’m pretty delicate myself, and had to flinch and turn away several times during this one. But underneath this grim dystopia of Yakuza violence is a haunting illustration of the circle of shame, of good guys gone bad, and bad guys seeking redemption that never comes. There is art here, however blood-splattered and misogynistic.
This could never have been made in America.
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