Herutâ sukerutâ

In a very exaggerated way, it shows the entanglement between fashion circle and cosmetic surgery. The plot, tone and lens of the whole film are all exaggerated. Unfortunately, the prosecutor has played soy sauce, but it also conforms to reality.

Wisdom as applies to this film is twofold. Firstly, fame is fleeting. Secondly, in the fashion and modelling worlds one needs to consistently remain up-to-date and flawless. There is no room for slacking or letting up. The world would otherwise pass one by. Helter Skelter, the second feature film by fashion photographer Ninagawa Mika, is a fascinating and fast-paced look inside the world of style, models, egos and icons, yes, but more fundamentally consumerism and the cult of capitalism. Setting aside documentaries like No Logo or The Corporation one can only think of movies like American Psycho, Captain Fantastic or They Live which have been so entertaining yet so critical of materialism and modernism at the same time. It is a live action adaptation of the manga of the same name. Those who have watched the director's previous film Sakuran should have an inkling what to expect in terms of approach and explosion of colour and vibrancy. It is quite a sight to behold. With that said, nothing will prepare the viewer for the depiction of design, sound and thematic wallop that is Helter Skelter. This film is true to its name, uncompromising and downright scary.

Liliko (Sawajiri Erika) is Japan's most beautiful, most adulated, sexiest and ubiquitous super model. Her body, legs, face, lips, nose, hair, nails and clothes are iconic. She is perfect. Her likeness is everywhere and sells everything. Everyone wants to be her, see her or use her image. Unbeknownst to her legion of fans - a plot device that is hard to swallow - she harbours a secret however. Liliko is the product of a myriad of plastic surgeries. Except for her "eyeballs, ears, fingernails and pussy" she is as manufactured as a human being could be. The model looks stunning even when crawling on the floor due to exhaustion or knocked to the ground in a haze of pills. It takes strength and determination to maintain her existence - she tells her chubby younger sister to become beautiful because "beauty makes you strong" - and she, alongside a dedicated team comprised of a manager, an assistant and others, is up for it. Unfortunately for them, however, her procedures are not permanent and require constant touch-up and regeneration. The more she gets work done, the more follow-ups she requires. As such, she is as much a hostage to her plastic surgeon's table and tablets as she is to the hordes of fans loving and idolizing her. At one point someone references Michael Jackson in the film. Setting aside Liliko's picture-perfect appearance Joan Rivers would have done as a cautionary example of extreme plastic surgery as well. In trying to maintain her beauty, and thus her popularity, things get out of hand. To make matters worse Liliko's position atop of her industry does not exempt her from envy and rage. She is jealous of new face Kiko (Yoshikawa Kozue) with whom she is told to work. What is worse, Kiko is under contract by the same agency. Liliko understands the fleeting nature of her existence as a product and makes sure to safeguard her position and disrupt her competition. While nature may have given Sawajiri improbable beauty her talent as an actress is also palpable. Her portrayal is extreme and chilling as hell. Liliko is the paragon of perfection, but is ruthless and self-aware knowing what she needs to do for her position and fan base. That may be true, but no one comes out looking good here. This is not a tale of a good girl victimized. Her enablers are as ruthless - if not more so - and do not suffer much of a moral dilemma either. As such it is as much a horror movie as it is brilliant and magnetic and often a difficult watch. Keep one eye out for proof that this assertion is correct. The film perhaps takes the exaggeration one step too far however.

Ninagawa eschews the easy way of contrasting the good guys from the bad guys and crafts a film that instead shows neither mercy nor sympathy. It is a compendium of amorality and consumerist society's corruption that throws in everything from misandry, misogyny and manipulation to misuse and malfeasance. As it attacks mass culture and consumerism to a loud and omnipresent soundtrack and cornucopia of breathtakingly vivid colours it is no accident that the cool fashionable girls of Shibuya are seen and heard scrolling away on their smart phones at McDonalds. The constant dramatic music heightens the effect and evokes Clockwork Orange with its incongruous use of Classical music, the action is a whirlwind of dizziness and the glamourous scenes could only have come courtesy of a photographer who has first-hand experience with the subject matter at hand and is undeterred at mocking it. She is surely biting the hand that feeds. Given the courage and in this context, Ninagawa is fortunate to have procured such a talented actress making her return to the front of the camera. Not for one second does one feel that Sawajiri is merely acting or not fully inhabiting her character. She plays the shallowness and skin deep representation of the pinnacle of beauty with a full-body depth and from sex to modelling scenes and from visiting with her younger sister to NTR makes the viewer feel every situation.

Several items are worth noting. It is not only Sawajiri's real-life experience as a model, actress and manager and Ninagawa's photography and years of relationship with models and celebrities that renders the film positively, but there are several other real-life parallels lurking throughout Helter Skelter. For starters Sawajiri married a producer in real-life. The film features Suzuki Anne, an actress who rumour had it was b-listed in Japan for gaining weight. In the meanwhile, the director's previous movie was called Sakuran, a title whose meaning is not that far off from this film's. Helter Skelter is a film that repeatedly reminded me of a personal belief that the more popular a thing or person the more inferior it is. The movie attacks the triumph of form over substance and, furthermore, seems to act as a reminder that it usually ends badly.

Lilico is a bad seed, a sadistic supermodel and the darling of all Japan who has turned herself into, as another character from the movie puts it, "a machine for the processing of desire…" Problem is that all her plastic surgery is slowly necrotizing her flesh, and as she slides down the bat pole into oblivion she drags everyone with her, including her female assistant (whom she sexually assaults) and the foot soldiers she dispatches to throw acid in the faces of other models.

In the hands of Sion Sono or David Cronenberg, this material would have been rich and nuanced. What begs to be explored is that central notion of the desire machine. Lilico's primary dilemma is everybody's – how do we constitute ourselves as subjects in this period of late-stage, global capitalism, where we exist in a state of constant flux between two poles: self-commodification and compulsive consumerism? The problem is hinted at, but never fleshed out: the human body is no longer a space in which people realize themselves politically, creatively, erotically, or spiritually; rather, the body has become ancillary to the functioning of a global market economy, a thing that is used by and subservient to ideology.

In the end, Helter Skelter is a pretty-looking mess, which isn't surprising because that's often the result when fashion photographers, in this case Mika Ninagawa, take a stab at directing feature films. Ambitious, but a mess.

While I love this line, I am on the fence about loving the entire film. It was dark, for that I give it all the credit in the world. However, it seemed to progress slowly and even though the slow progression was visually engaging, it wasn't enough to always hold my attention. The story was just ok for me but the lead actress did a wonderful job with this character.

With all this said, let me just add that I intend to watch the film again. I am hoping the second time around, I may be able to clear up anything I may have missed. I may love it after a second viewing. Give it a chance you may get it all in one viewing and absolutely love it.

Erika Sawajiri is outstanding as flavor-of-the-moment model/actress Lillico, a diva held together by plastic surgery, who exorcises her own demons in predatory sado-sexual displays of domination on her minder (Shinobu Terajima in perfect counter-point). Lillico is self-aware, stating that she can't really act, and she's not a great singer. All she has is her looks, bought at great price, though the exact cost will only slowly reveal itself.

Japan's facile celebrity culture and the amoral voracity of its media are excoriated here. The social commentary scorches due to Sawajiri's unflinching efforts in making Lillico all too human. The casting is both professional and sly, as there is more than a little overlap between Lillico and the 'betsu ni' iteration of Sawajiri's own media persona.

Director Mika Ninagawa is best known for still photography, and it is this background that lets the film down. Too often we are offered a montage, beautifully shot, of angst ridden Lillico, rolling in the rain, hallucinating about butterflies and falling feathers (too obviously borrowed from American Beauty), or gazing as the camera slides poetically past her at the human carnage she has unleashed. Lovely photography, but at the cost of slowing the narrative to a standstill.

Lillico evokes Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's, a country girl living a dream on borrowed time and shutting out the tawdriness that engulfs her. Instead of an older husband, it is a younger sibling who arrives from the past to burst the bubble.

The plot involves ugly profiteering at a medical clinic and the arm of the law closing in, though the police procedural scenes function only to offer up expository commentary that jars. The prosecutors talk and are lit more like Greek gods pitying mortals than civil servants trying to put a shift in.

Kaori Momoi as the shiftless boss does what she does best, that undefinable unsettling quirkiness perfectly suited to this role. Kiko Mizuhara also shows depth as the new idol who displaces Lillico from her perch, but turns out to be every bit as self-aware and jaded as her predecessor.

The way the film turns the microscope on fetishized beauty and celebrity is its strength, and with brisker pacing and tighter editing this could have been outstanding. Those flaws are a pity, given the magnetic power of Sawajiri.