Tôkyô fisuto

I feel it's sort of a shame for such a movie to have less than at least 100 reviews on its page. So here I go, helping it out with this 22nd review, if I recall it correctly...

First time I read a review on Tokyo Fist on another site, I didn't quite know what to expect from this movie. I was deep down in Cronenberg horror, but this title's plot and atmosphere (as described by a rather insipid reviewer, I guess) simply eluded my intuition. Luckily, I decided to give this a try, and it was one good decision. Tokyo Fist stands at a fine border between black comedy (and also really dry), surrealism, action and plain existential malaise. Tsukamoto's cam angles and effects act perfectly coherently with his intent, from emphasizing the ridiculous monotony and isolation in Tsuda's life to highlighting the irrational ferocity of his old "friend" that almost seems to turn night into day and day into night.

Now, diving a bit into the predictable Fight Club comparison, Tokyo Fist is the severe, restrained, Eastern cousin of Palahniuk's novel's adaptation. There is no noticeable trace of emotion (maybe except anger), pathetism, or nihilist verbosity in the discourse of Tokyo Fist's characters. It's as if their existence and the duty of assuming various roles (and subsequent failures) squeezed their sentimental tendencies out of them and sent them into an abyss. There is no "love trio" in this movie, no matter how tempting it would be to call it that way. Its three main characters remain as insulated as can be, until the very end - a brilliantly open and non-conclusive end to a small, powerful drama of people not able to manage their remorse or lack of meaning without showering themselves in suffering. Beyond the plot, there are some really nice hyperkinetic boxing scenes in this movie, and the generous to parodic flows of blood and bruises might seem chuckle and nausea-inducing at the same time.

I am afraid, though, that what I have said doesn't give this film the aura that it deserves. If you are not necessarily an adrenaline freak yet not an instant puker either, and want to see something done artistically indeed, you ought to give this at least one punch with the eye.

The first ten minutes are awesome. The movie is very strong, but the quality varies a lot along its development until its bad end. Both the fast paced training scenes and the oppressive Tokyo city footage are very nice. Though, the bizarreness of the story bores. This is a live action film with an anime aesthetics (for anime fans perhaps the movie pleases more). It could be a great movie if it had developed better the main character's ordinary life as a white collar, the chaos of the city (the story does not explore the interesting way the town is shown), the dangerous boxer who tattooes the number of defeated challengers on his shoulder. Less emphasis in body horror and sneezing blood would also contribute to a more satisfactory outcome. The director's brother should be substituted by a better actor. A different and better story for the love triangle would be necessary too. To conclude, the director/writer/actor Shin'ya Tsukamoto has the skills, but lacks good taste and makes bad decisions.

I've seen Tsukamoto's Tetsuo films but here he has found a way to be almost as outre but infinitely more accessible and coherent. The film is about 3 people (two men and a woman caught in a triangle) whose lives suddenly become charged with transformative psychosexual and psychoviolent energies revolving around the world of Japanese boxing (but it is nothing like a 'fight' film). Actor/Editor/Cinematographer/Director Tsukamoto has found a way to give a high impact, extremely rhythmic (in both time and space) look and feel to his ideas that is very original and striking. The spatial rhythm of the lead characters boring ordinary 'day' life passed in high rise apartment complexes and the incredibly kinetic temporal rhythm of his alternate 'night' life provides a terrific cinematic contrast of these two worlds. The film is rather short and gains immensely thereby in both concentration and focus. I, too, thought about Raging Bull at times but probably Tsukamoto is more akin to David Cronenberg (the new flesh) in his concerns, not his approach, than Scorsese. It may not be for the squeamish, but it is strong, brilliant film making which you should definitely try.

This is not a movie you experience with the brain, rather it's an assault on the senses. Some of my favourite cinema does that, and I'm always on the lookout for movies that call us to live through a certain experience, to vicariously sense the world as another person might. The ultimate joy is for me to be able to take out something that matters, an otherwise impossible view of the world in my livingroom that makes sense.

The problem of Tokyo Fist is that it's packed with so much rage and annihilation yet aims it nowhere. The boxer characters are punching, but they're not punching outwards, at society, nor inwards at the soul, they're simply pummeling and being pummeled senseless. Senseless is an apt word here, for in Tokyo Fist the mind doesn't matter, and the human body is something to be destroyed, the senses torn from it and thrown in a bloody heap on a grimy floor. Tsukamoto can be seen beating his head in a bloody pulp against a wall, but that wall signifies nothing. The spurts of blood gushing from broken noses and deformed bonecheeks, the film celebrates with the comic verve of Sam Raimi.

With time Tsukamoto would grow out of the techno angst of this period, but enabling the maturity of films like Vital, a certain youthful vitality had to be sacrificed in the process. I lament this because few directors dare make films like his, even Tsukamoto himself doesn't seem able to make them anymore.

Fits of jealousy, miserable love triangles, personality changes, all these are trifle story points. What I take from Tokyo Fist is the aimlessness of violence, taken to the extreme because there's nothing to absorb it. Likely Tsukamoto grew up in a Japanese society of the 80's and 90's, like the rest of the world, stifled in the mire of apathy and complacency. People had the money to buy and the selection to buy from, but not the struggle with grand ideals. The resulting New Wave of his cinema is a New Wave of disillusionment turned against itself, a shell without a solid core to make it dream a better society.

In this light, it makes sense to see Tsukamoto playing a young employee, fresh out of high school and already into a suit and a tie running errands for a faceless corporation, turning into a crazed animal for whom even love is a petulant obsession, another passing need to be consummated.

Watching a movie by Shinya Tsukamoto is a bit like staring into the deepest pits of hell, or the darkest recesses of the male psyche, whichever way you want to put it. But then the two seem fairly synonymous, at least if the sheer visceral anger in Tokyo Fist is anything to go by.

Those aware of Tsukamoto's feature-length debut Tetsuo (1988) will be familiar with the basic premise in Tokyo Fist; flawed relationship between man and woman is brutally disrupted by an outside element which challenges the protagonist to a potentially lethal, and eventually soul-destroying, duel. Similarly to other pioneers of horror (eg. Cronenberg, Miike), Tsukamoto chooses to use all kinds of repulsive visuals. Just to give you an idea, if a face almost literally falling off after a boxing match is too much for you, it's probably best to stay away from this film.

However, the brutal imagery is not completely pointless. Tokyo Fist portrays male anger with such honesty that it is sometimes painful to watch, but that's really the point since violence is not something to be cooed at or to be admired (which is what many Hollywood movies seemingly aim to achieve, witness the way audiences are prompted to cheer for the good guy as he murders the baddie). The violence in Tokyo Fist is allegorical in nature, ie. it stands for something else than just simply fists flying: the inability between men and women (and, indeed, men and men) to understand each other ultimately leads to the kind of extreme violence we see on screen. This, ironically, makes Tokyo Fist a part of the great humanist tradition in Japanese cinema, alongside Rashomon and other such movies, because, even though it uses extreme imagery to make a point, it makes the same point all the same: if we relish in jealousy, revenge and anger we will only end up destroying each other, and ultimately ourselves. Does Hollywood ever deal with violence this eloquently?

Also, as with Tetsuo, the characters in Tokyo Fist seem to live entirely in a world of their own. Many shots frame them either alone, or surrounded by an anonymous mass which fails to notice them or appreciate their presence (even as Tsuda stands in the middle of a shopping mall, his face beaten to a pulp). I can't think of another film-maker who sums up urban alienation as brilliantly as Tsukamoto does; the sheer contradiction of city life, in which a great mass of people are all huddled together at close range, and yet find themselves completely lonely and alienated from one another.

For all intents and purposes, Tokyo Fist is a movie which requires a strong stomach and an open mind. But it's a great achievement all the same.