A rice-sniffing hitman seeks to climb the ladder of success until he reaches the first rung but meets his match in the squared circle...himself. Director Seijun Suzuki exploits classic Hollywood noir tropes and delivers an existential masterpiece of pure violent absurdity, this is not only style over narrative substance but a film where the style is the substance!
I won’t waste explanation on the plot as Suzuki isn’t concerned with details such as the who, what, when, where or why of events, as he is in composing each frame depicting how thing happen as a surreal, nightmare-logic arrangement of shadows and ghostly figures. The story involves Goro Hanada (Joe Shishido) who begins by helping a friend in need and ends up botching an execution before being hunted by the Number #1 killer. Suzuki denies narrative propriety by refusing to utilize establishing shots or transitions, so it becomes difficult to place figures and actions in a rational hierarchy of events. We see shootouts and car chases that defy possibility, where a character is seemingly in different places at equivalent moments, one moment on top of a pier then the next, his vehicle jumping a ramp and running down his targets. We get a fiery murder in a derelict WWII concrete bunker, a cheating wife who parades around sans clothing and is disgusted by Horo’s boiling rice fetish, a femme Thanatos who surrounds herself with dead birds and pinned butterflies, and a mysterious Number #1 killer who reveals himself as a kindred spirit before the final showdown. There is no character development, no motivations or backstories, only Goro’s desire to survive and be Number #1 killer. All of this is beautifully framed in B&W Cinemascope 2:35:1 by DP Kazue Nagatsuka who utilizes classic low-key lighting and deep focus noir photography! This is a stunningly beautiful film.
The final act devolves into an odd couple conjoined standoff, as each killer relies on their honor and code to keep the other in check as they cohabitate. It’s totally fucking absurd, impossible and hilarious, yet played with the utmost sincerity. This is the genius of Art, twisting celluloid into new shapes and forms. And Goro, the cool avant garde anti-hero in his jazzy shades and phallic custom Mauser C96, spends much of the film being pummeled, shot, abused, with his trademark cheeks buried in pots of steaming rice. Far from heroic! Finally, in a deserted boxing arena he sees the killer’s face through broken glass of his fractured psyche, his femme now fatale at his hands, and wonders who he is. Poor Goro, unable or unwilling to recognize his own pale reflection.
Final Grade: (A+)
