R100 - Härter ist besser

R100 is an exceptionally weird movie, but then I wouldn't expect anything else from Japanese cult cinema (and, truth be told, I'd be disappointed if I got otherwise!). The story sees a middle-aged businessman visiting a dominatrix bureau, where he signs a contract that will see him randomly beaten and abused by a succession of beautiful women over the course of a year.

The premise is as preposterous and nonsensical as it sounds, and yet it's mighty funny at the same time. Watching this poor guy walking down the street before being half kicked to death by a leather-clad lady is certainly memorable, and if the narrative seems repetitive then that's part of the intent. Still, the stakes are raised as the story progresses, leading to a half-mad climax full of cheesy action and attacks from a giant westerner. Warning: a strong stomach is needed for the lengthy spitting sequence.

A businessman, raising a young son with the help of his father in law while his wife lies in a three year long coma, takes out a one year subscription to an S&M club. His life is soon complicated by dominatrices who abuse him unexpectedly, in restaurants, on the street, at his work. Just when you think "where exactly is this going?" things take a whole new turn into weird. By the time the film "climaxes" you'll either have left the audience long ago or be sitting with a wide grin on your face enjoying the spectacle. At a time when American cinema has descended into predictability, special effects, superheroes and remakes it's great to see a genuine imagination at play. It's not for everyone but, if you enjoy creativity, humour and going along for the ride then it's one hell of a ride. Recommended.

The thing that has always bugged me with regards to films about sadomasochism pertains as to how those primarily interested in such things are depicted, that is to say as unbalanced; deranged and generally mentally ill. Filmmakers often see things such as sadomasochism, I think, as outsiders to the pursuit, and thus deem it detached from the mainstream, which in mainstream language means that it is strange and perverted. Away from this, S&M is often the butt of a joke; rendered a 'go to' event for cheap laughs and engaged in by cartoon characters as well as those out for cheap kicks by writers. This is no better evident than in 2004's Eurotrip. The fact is, I am yet to see a film which accurately puts across the sense that the people depicted have genuinely reached a decision to undertake this activity. The characters are often skittish or disturbed. This is in ways that those very much into pulling members of the opposite sex in a loud, rowdy bar for one night gratification never are.

R100 seems to fall somewhere smack bang in the middle of all this – it does nothing to deconstruct the head of an S&M enthusiast, yet resists the easily obtained own goals upon which a director can doom his work. In a sense, it has nothing to do with S&M – this is in spite of its promotional material and the fact after seeing it, critics could talk of nothing else BUT its S&M content. In actuality, the film is a well-meaning and ambitious piece which aims, although fails, to deliver the sort of controversial avant-garde punch a Gaspar Noé film might otherwise succeed in doing. Instead, it comes off as a blend of "Being John Malkovich" and "The Player" with bits and pieces of famous Japanese auteur Ozu thrown in for good measure. Nao Ōmori plays Katayama, a low level department store salesman with a routine existence in a standard Japanese suburban town which he shares with his young son and elderly father, who comes around to visit every so often. This is punctured by the fact his wife is dying in a coma and he is on the brink of losing his job, although this second pointer is not explored later on as much as the film has you think it might.

For reasons that remain unclear, indeed so hazy that we must question as to whether they even happen, Katayama visits an underground club known as "Bondage" (an English word in a Japanese film, no doubt designed to distort the viewing experience for native viewers) where a deal is forged whereby various dominatrices of varying ages and sizes, but all with unworldly abilities, will randomly visit him for flash-sessions. Thereafter, the women will appear and disappear; they will beat him up in the street with nobody batting an eyelid; they will be there, wherever he may be, waiting for a spot-session. Do the patrons of a sushi bar look on in disgust at the fact a dominatrix smashes up Katayama's food with her bare hands prior to him eating it? Or is it Katayama's own grotesque eating habits which infuriate them, and the woman isn't even there. I notice a heavy insistence for the film to have us focus on the pills the Bondage club owner has in his possession when first visited. Was he just a drug dealer the whole time?

But none of this really tells you all of it. There are several ideas and films going on here at once: the fourth-wall breaking narrative about the producers who don't like the veteran director doing what he wants in his final film (which, it seems, doubles up as the film WE'RE watching); the tale of a middle aged man losing his mind through what appears to be an ecstasy addition and a bog-standard kitchen sink drama about a man and his son soldiering on through domestic strife. Try to imagine Ozu's "Good Morning" propped up by "My Neighbour Totoro", as imaginary friends and blurred lines between escapism and realism take centre stage. In ways that do not entirely make sense, Katayama ends up falling afoul of this organisation, whose earlier eerie ability to see people on the other sides of doors without the aid of CCTV lives up to its promise as his family become wrapped up in a postmodern series of life threatening games.

Why it is that this organisation goes from operating out of a grotty, pokey headquarters in a dilapidated apartment blocks to being able to boast CEO's flying in on private jets from abroad, is never explained. Nor too is as to why this indomitable "Hostel"-like underground gang do not merely hit the switch on his wife's life support machine as she lies there defenceless in a hospital. As it wears on, deliberately I'm sure, the piece falls apart at the seams; becoming stranger and stranger although maintain the ability to make total sense.

The ultimate problem with the film lies with the fact it doesn't have enough of a leash on it. I like the idea of there never being any mistresses in the first place, and that the women are essentially a metaphor for how drug addiction at a time of domestic angst can lead on to very bad things: hallucinations and the neglect of one's loved ones. There is a scene with a police man about half way through, where he outlines nothing can be done for the fact adults beating on adults in controlled environments is something they must get on with. He compares the relationship between master and slave as being akin to pro-wrestler and pro-wrestler: when one hurts the other, they do not sue for assault. I looked up the actress who played the aforementioned CEO: the leanest, meanest dominatrix-cum-brothel running yuppy type in history. It turns out she has a wrestling credit to her name. Is there something wrapped up in that?

Five minutes into R100, our main character is explaining to a tall woman in a trench coat what his favorite part of Beethoven's "Symphony No. 9," is. Mid-sentence, she stands up and delivers the man a roundhouse kick to the jaw. And from that moment on, the madness and manic energy of writer/director Hitoshi Matsumoto's (Symbol, Big Man Japan) latest film continues to pick up momentum, further spiraling outward into something truly unique and twisted. But let's compose ourselves and wind things back a bit.

R100 introduces us to department store salesman Takafumi Katayama, played with wide eyed longing by Nao Ohmori (Ichi the Killer). Katayama's wife has long been comatose and he takes care of their young son with help from the boy's grandfather on his mother's side. It's a loving family dynamic that exists in the shadow of the matriarch's impending death. Katayama visits his wife in the hospital daily, bringing her fresh flowers and making promises of the future, but he knows there isn't one. They all know.

And so, to help relieve the heartache and make him forget his woes, Katamaya joins a strange club known only as "Bondage." The rules of the club are simple: membership lasts one year in which various dominatrices will visit you at random and you must always be submissive and you may never cancel the contract during that year's span. As wonderful as all this sounds, things take a turn for the worse at the halfway point and Katamaya finds himself, as well as his family, in grave danger.

Matsumoto plants us into Katamaya's shoes for nearly the entire run of the film. We explore a Japan that is almost completely drained of color, save for the sickly jaundiced grays and yellows that cover everything. As dreary as that sounds, it makes for the perfect canvas for his parade of unique set pieces and characters to be introduced. We meet these otherworldly dominatrices (The Queen of Voices, The Saliva Queen, The GOBBLER!) one by one and the strangeness never feels alienating because Matsumoto's sense of humor is always present. It transcends any language and cultural barriers by just being outlandishly funny as well as consistently surprising. Without giving too much away, there exists a subplot that calls into question the film's very existence. It's funny and, again, surprising. You're always on your guard during R100, never knowing what will be the next logical step the people in this world take.

Building its foundation on the central ideas of David Fincher's The Game and Fight Club, R100 continues to string together ideas seen in western cinema, somehow resulting in a completely original piece of art. Roger Moore-era James Bond, Kill Bill and countless 70s kung-fu films make up the DNA of R100, but rather than coming off as derivative and lazy, it's clear that these nods are meant as a homage to the films that inspired a young, imaginative director to tell new and exciting stories. It's actually kind of sweet in its own deranged way.

This is a film you have to see to even begin to fully comprehend anything I can say about it. That said, it is also admittedly, "not for everyone." But if you have a passion for the bizarre and unexpected, this is certainly your movie. R100 manages to be shocking without insulting its audience's sensibilities. It's an exploitation film for the 21st century; a patchwork of ideas from every corner of western (and eastern) cinema made into a single, wonderfully told story of pleasure and grief. Also, there are dominatrices with guns.

Sometimes it's nice to watch a movie for its mere shock value. R100 is exactly one of those. On the other hand it never was able to transcend the provocative imagery and content like Fight Club or Luis Buñuel (with which the film was compared) did in their time. Director Hitoshi Matsumoto tells the tale of a masochistic man who experiences supernatural orgasms by being extremely humiliated. After a while reality and fiction begin to merge and the man starts to discover his sadistic side. Luckily this isn't a pretext to make a softcore SM movie, but it also doesn't surpass the level of a superficial b-production. The final twenty minutes are a bit too ridiculous for my taste (because they're so out of sync with the rest of the movie), that I can't say I've enjoyed R100 that much. Nevertheless it had some great moments because of the dark humor, meta-jokes and entertaining twists.