Takashi Miike has been making some of the most weirdly entertaining films of the last decade. Between Ichi the Killer and the overtly taboo Visitor Q, one would think that all the corpse-sodomizing and S&M would have drained his artistic abilities. But 2004’s Izo is yet another staple of Miike’s string of mind-scratching motion pictures. While it carries much of what the man’s fans have come to expect, viewers will find themselves divided into factions of either the satisfied or sorely let down.
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While films often feature wolves stalking under the guise of man, those of wit and quality are a bit more difficult to come by. Be it the newest reference-driven comedy schlock or aimless chick flick, flicks are more quick to grab a piece of the wolf theme’s revenue than do something to really set itself apart from the rest. At least Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade tries throwing its viewers for a loop, but is it a true beast in anime’s clothing, or is it fodder worthy of Wal-Mart’s $5 Halloween bin?
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For years, I thought Zatoichi was Japan’s answer to James Bond, if only for the character’s longevity. But some would say that mantle truly belongs to Duke Togo — a.k.a. Golgo 13. Twice as brutal and just as lucky with the ladies, Golgo’s hard-boiled escapades rival even 007’s darkest days. Now I can’t vouch for the source manga, but this man of action’s first animated feature, The Professional, seems to think that coolness can be bought instead of earned. Gunplay and gratuitous screwing alone do not a badass flick make, a notion you realize The Professional will never take to the further you explore it.
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Every genre has its face. Hitchcock is synonymous with suspense, Chaplin with comedy, and so on. At the moment, Hayao Miyazaki’s visage represents the world of anime, which is a plus and a minus. The man’s fantasies have given anime more exposure than ever, but that also means misguided viewers assuming Japan is only good for feline transportation and sentient scarecrows. Luckily, we have Miyazaki-san’s feature debut, The Castle of Cagliostro, to show that he wasn’t always trying to out-funky Guillermo del Toro. There’s no message or trademark reverence to nature here, just a heist flick as free-spirited as its protagonist.
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I’ve grown weary of films carrying the dreaded “action” stamp. The genre, whether animated or flesh-and-blood, tends to come with a voice that whispers, “Don’t worry! We’ll get by on destroying stuff!” What should get my pulse pounding or adrenaline flowing usually results in a yawn that makes mountains crumble. But Sword of the Stranger doesn’t rely on its ability to devastate so much as its style, and for its efforts, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
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