Boiling Point (1990)

Baseball is a popular sport in Japan. Masaki (Yūrei Yanagi) is a batter, but he isn't any good and his level of enthusiasm for the role appears to match his level in almost all things, which is visibly nil. A chance encounter at his place of employment leads to him drifting into Yakuza company, specifically an impulsive man named Uehara (Takeshi Kitano) and his two companions.
Dir. Kitano's second film saw his style evolve: a method of humour that's deadpan funny without seeming to have any actual jokes - although the loose construction can feel a little like tactically placed skits, so may be off-putting to some folks. It's not an ideal first Kitano film, but if you've seen and enjoyed any of his later (middle period) works, it can be a rewarding experience.

3 overtakings out of 5

Outrage Coda (2017)

Dictionary.com defines 'coda' as 'a concluding section or part [...] serving as a summation of preceding themes, motifs, etc.'. Outrage Coda fits that particular description, concluding the trilogy but telling its own story, too.
Otomo (Kitano) now conducts his business from a South Korean island, out of harm's way and under the protection of a powerful Korean organisation, while the old Hanabishi lieutenants back in Japan scheme and bicker over profits and status. When the two operations clash and war looms, Otomo's hand is forced.
As before there's many dialogue scenes, some with a pleasing dollop of Kitano's subtle comedy stylings, but, sadly, his character isn't involved in very many of them. But he's there for some of the violence, which is brutal.
Keiichi Suzuki's score is by turns daring, unusual, and effectively dramatic.

3 responses out of 5

Getting Any? (1995)

Comedy doesn't always travel well, especially when many of the gags are reliant on cultural knowledge that a foreign audience may lack. But even when taking that into account Getting Any? misfires on multiple levels.
The comedy, though well-timed, just isn't funny; and its structure is little more than a series of absurd sketches loosely documenting a hopeless man's desire to have sex in a car. But first he needs a car. His leaps of logic in service of his lascivious goal make no sense, but perhaps that's part of the joke(?).
Along the way it parodies other films/characters, including Lone Wolf and Cub, Zatoichi, the roles of actor Jô Shishido, kaijū (specifically Mothra), The Fly (1986), and, bizarrely, Ghostbusters (1984), all of which are much better films.

1 labolatory [sic] failure out of 5

Kids Return (1996)

Told mostly in flashback, it's the story of two high school friends, Shinji and Masaru (Masanobu Andô and Ken Kaneko, respectively), who occasionally go to school but spend very little time in actual class. The tutors have given up on them, seeing them as either directionless morons or little more than petty thieves in training. In time, the duo would probably agree. But a single event gives them a perspective that eventually leads to insight.
Often in Kitano films the secondary characters are just as interesting as the primaries, but in Kids Return some of the lesser characters actually stole the show, being arguably even more interesting than the two main ones and I'd love to have seen their substories expanded and further explored.
Oddly, even though it's but a tiny portion of the film insofar as running time goes, I was affected more by the scenes set in the present than in flashback.

3 dynamite blows out of 5

Achilles and the Tortoise (2008)

The final film in Kitano’s surrealist autobiographical trilogy is my favourite of the three. It's less surreal than the other two, but does get more and more abstract as time goes on. It's split into three distinct phases of struggling artist Machisu's life. Each time period has its own deft focus, but all have identifiable hallmarks of a Kitano experience, with the third being perhaps the weirdest.
Like Achilles in Zeno's Paradox it seems like Machisu is always playing catch up. But the more advice he takes from experts the worse his work becomes. He just can't win, and his output grows less representative of his true self.
The fictional characters are merciless commentary on both the superficiality of the art world and Kitano's own works (he did all the original paintings).
There's tragedy, but it's wickedly funny, underpinned by a peculiar warmth.

4 accomplished Beats out of 5

A Scene at the Sea (1991)

Garbage collector Shigeru finds a broken surfboard by the side of the road. He takes it home and thereafter a story develops slowly over a short but magical summer in which simplicity is beauty and the mundane is deadpan hilarious.
Both Shigeru (Claude Maki) and his girlfriend Takako (Hiroko Ôshima) are deaf, so there's not a lot of spoken dialogue, but the silence in no way diminishes the relationship or our understanding of it because the 'voice' of the piece is very much Kitano's and he orchestrates it masterfully; the bond between the couple has a rhythm that can be heard over the sound of wind and waves.
It marked the first of many times that the director had composer Joe Hisaishi provide the score. The music and image are so seamlessly matched emotionally that it's as if the pair had been working together for decades.

4 horizon lines out of 5

Chacun son Cinéma (2007)

(Eng: To Each His Own Cinema)

An anthology that contains over thirty short films by as many different directors, commissioned to celebrate six decades of the Cannes Film Festival. Each work is approximately three minutes in length and was supposed to represent the director's "state of mind [...] as inspired by the motion picture theatre." As usual with this kind of thing, I'll put the full list in comments.
My 'Admit One' was for Kitano and Cronenberg, neither of which were essential. The ones that moved me most were Alejandro Iñárritu's 'Anna' and Abbas Kiarostami's 'Where Is My Romeo?', both of which had more emotion than the others combined. Also, I really liked Chen Kaige's 'Zhanxiou Village'.
A lot of them take place inside a theatre with crucial scenes from actual films being projected onscreen, so expect some spoilers.

3 light shows out of 5

Glory to the Filmmaker! (2007)

The second film in Kitano's surrealist autobiographical trilogy continues the 'deconstruction' of his career by conceptually examining the films he didn't make. Fans of the director will understand how that approach relates to what was presented in Takeshis' (2005), but everyone else will be very lost. It's a superb, self-referential madness that lasts for approximately half the film.
The second half, by comparison, is a kind of return to the Kitano of years past, the one that made his name in Japan being half of a Manzai act. It's an impenetrable clusterfuck that relies heavily on slapstick.
The first half makes it clear that he no longer cares about living up to past glories, or will rely on the safety net of falling into what's expected of him, but if not for the mother and daughter storyline (and their stuffed animals) I'd have thrown the towel into the ring before the end of the second.

3 discordant Beats out of 5 (i.e. an average of 5 for the first half and 1 for the second).

Zatoichi (2003)

aka The Blind Swordsman: Zatoichi (in the US)

Stepping into Shintarô Katsu’s well-worn sandals is a very tall order. I can think of no one more deserving of the honour than Takeshi Kitano.
Katsu’s Ichi shone even when acting nonchalant. Kitano chooses not to. He fades into the background often. Consequently, the secondary characters come across as being better written, making Ichi seem like less of a focal point and more of a supporting player in his own story. I'm sure it was intentional, but, even though the swordsman’s persona has been well-established previously, I feel the two halves ought to have been at least on equal footing, because for many folks it'll be their first ever Zatoichi film.
I’ve vented hatred for CGI blood in previous posts; pairing it with CGI blades elicits and qualifies for an even greater level of disgust.

3 dancing farmers out of 5

Johnny Mnemonic (1995)

Weigh the good against the bad in JM and the scales tip in favour of the bad, Keanu's acting is laughable (Razzie nominated) and Ice-T is impossible to take seriously (in everything, ever), but a big chunk of love for it regardless tips them back the other way in my estimation.
The screenplay is by William Gibson, based on his short story (1981); Gibson doesn't write simple stuff, but parts of it are somewhat underdeveloped.
It resembles a Beta of Masamune Shirow's software running on cobbled together cyberpunk hardware. It's also somehow reminiscent of yakuza movies from a decade before. And it has Henry Rollins.
It's a good thing it got made when it did, because in a post-Matrix (1999) world it wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of existing as is.

3 residual traces out of 5

Takeshis' (2005)

The first film in Kitano’s surrealist autobiographical trilogy. Note the placement of the apostrophe in the title: there’s more than one Takeshi, or aspect of the same. The doubles of people who populate the world of successful actor/director Takeshi become part of the increasingly weird dreams of the loser Takeshi, a lowly cashier who wants desperately to be an actor. Each of the principal cast play at least two roles.
It celebrates and mocks his public and private personas, sometimes both in the same scene. It’s packed with references to previous films, so it’d be advisable to explore as many of those as possible before attempting to tackle the fragmented construction of Takeshis’.

3 familiar Beats out of 5

Violent Cop (1989)

Kitano is a pissed-off cop with some unorthodox methods in his directorial début. He uses violence often because he knows it gets results. It's methodical but can appear casual. He’ll bitch-slap and humiliate anyone he feels deserves it, but when events turn personal, when his role as protector is compromised, the level increases and is sustained.
He’s not credited as writer, but his revisions to the original script are clear to see and his persona dominates all parts of it. The transposition of honed comedy timing into filmmaking style makes the changes in tone swift and unexpected, like a good joke or a cutting remark.

4 wild acts out of 5

Outrage Beyond (2012)

aka Beyond Outrage

A sequel to the excellent Outrage (2010) that continues the story five years after the events in the first film. The police are tired of the Yakuza’s shit, so they intervene in daily affairs in an underhanded manner.
It’s necessary to have watched the previous film to understand how we got to this point. The first half is dominated by very serious men sitting around tables while very seriously talking. The second half uses that discussion as a basis for violence to erupt and old scores to be settled.
It’s more traditionally structured, which means it’s a perfectly acceptable Yakuza film but it isn't as layered or textured this time, and it lacks the stamp of uniqueness that Kitano usually delivers.

3½ reputations out of 5

Outrage (2010)

Viewers unfamiliar with Kitano’s methodology may criticise the structure of Outrage. It’s a film about the day-to-day activities of the Yakuza, but rather than focus on one specific member it’s more a collection of little moments that contribute to an inevitable conclusion for all members, so if you turn off too early you’ll not get the full effect.
As usual, the comedy is hilarious and very dark. Leaders chastising their underlings as if they were children is a recurring Kitano theme. So too is violence; some of which is extremely unpleasant.
I miss the Kitano/Hisaishi pairing, but admittedly Keiichi Suzuki’s scoring is more suited to the darker themes.

4½ bandages out of 5

Gohatto (1999)

Gohatto is Nagisa Ôshima's final film. It's a beautifully orchestrated period piece about a group of samurai during the bakumatsu era (here 1865).
It's unusual in that it deals with a rarely explored subject within the often strict genre: it's about the love of one samurai by another and how it fits in with their codes of practice and honour.
Ôshima's mastery of his art is evident in every facet of the production. The camera movements are so perfect that you don't even notice them unless you're looking for them. The sword fights are superb. And everything is given an extra dimension with the addition of some traditional in style but atypically sinister music by Ryûichi Sakamoto.

4½ leanings out of 5

Brother (2000)

Kitano plays a hard-edged Japanese yakuza exiled to L.A. He doesn't speak the language or respect the pecking order. Instead of being the awkward fish out of water he remains a big fish but in a different pond; the only problem with that scenario is that the pond is already well-stocked with Mafia.
It’s a Japanese/British co-production that some hoped would bridge a divide, but (thankfully) it turned out 100% Kitano because he wrote, directed, edited, starred and got regular composer Joe Hisaishi to score.

4 long shots out of 5

Dolls (2002)

Three vignettes exploring the same idea weave into one non-linear entity that’s also paradoxically linear in a very fundamental way.
Kitano's editing is typically flawless. Visually it's more colourful than usual and certainly more open to interpretation. It’s less overtly violent, but is perhaps the most violent of all when you delve deeper into the motivations. I found it impossible to hold onto one narrative thread and follow it without succumbing to the urge to grasp at a hundred others.
Ultimately, you'll take from it what you bring to it.
Some basic knowledge of Japanese society will enrich the experience.

4 closing seasons out of 5

Kikujiro (1999)

Master filmmaker Takeshi Kitano wrote, directed, edited and starred in this bitter-sweet tale of two people coming together in the oddest of ways. It’s a road movie of sorts, but they have no car and the road is more than literal.
Kitano has the ability to fill my left eye with tears of sadness while my right eye swells with tears of laughter, all during the same lingering scene. That kind of emotional power is a rare thing.
Regular composer Joe Hisaishi delivers another simple but effectively heart-warming score that's inseparable from the imagery.

5 free rides out of 5

Battle Royale (2000)

High-school students are given weapons and told to use them on each other. The cull begins. If only it was real.

4½ backstabbing bitches out of 5

Sonatine (1993)

Another great (Beat) Takeshi Kitano film, again written, directed, edited by and starring the Japanese auteur. When a group of Yakuza are sent to Okinawa they end up with some free time on their hands. What do Yakuza do when they get bored?  Not what you’d expect. Violence and absurd hilarity trade places in some typically Kitano moments and the emotional heart of the film surfaces and hits hard. It’s not a comedy, don’t misunderstand, but there are some piss-inducing funny moments. Music is again by Joe Hisaishi.

4½ Yakuza on the beach out of 5