Fleur pâle

If you like your film noir lean and atmospheric, this is probably for you. It also has elements of yakuza, sun tribe, and existentialism, and so seems to blend genres, but at the same time, it's completely focused. The cinematography is wonderful - the scenes at night driving, the stares from across the gambling table, and narrow streets all come to mind - and the audio is too, with a great mix of loud cacophony and scenes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A murder to the sound of an opera aria is pretty cool, and seems like it must have influenced other directors. The film also benefits from a magnetic couple of actors in the lead roles, Ryo Ikebe and Mariko Kaga. His detached persona fits a remorseless killer perfectly, just as her enigmatic look fits her character's recklessness.

What's haunting about the film is that both characters are so bored with life that they turn dispassionately to crime and gambling. At the outset of the film he's just gotten out of jail for killing a rival gang member, and while looking at people in crowded Tokyo, says "What are they living for? Their faces are lifeless, dead. They're desperately pretending to be alive." As for the murder he committed, "slaughtering one of these dumb beasts," as he puts it, he says "It's a strange feeling. Somebody died, but nothing has changed." As for her character, named Saeko (a homonym for Psycho, surely not accidentally) she needs to raise the stakes on her obsessive gambling to feel anything, dabbles in drugs for the same reason, and says in a wonderful moment "I wish the sun would never rise. I love these wicked nights." The two are so striking and cool, and yet it's as if they're nearly dead within, empty and in need of something positive to live for. Weirdly, though the two seem attracted to each other, when they end up in bed together while hiding during a police raid, they choose to talk about the flower card game rather than make love.

There is something about these sentiments in a post-war Japan still searching for itself, and a director like Masahiro Shinoda trying to usher in the New Wave, that's powerful. It may rate even higher with a film connoisseurs for just how clean it is, but it left me wishing there had been a little more plot development. Still a very good film though, and one that may be better on a second watch.

Just for the young Mariko Kaga aged 21, Pale Flower is a must. She's playing a very complex character, her lovely face is half juvenile, half wild and sexy. She teams with a handsome yakusa much older than her, the cool Ryo Ikebe, very quiet and well-dressed. Eveything is perfect in this slow paced and atmospheric film noir, black and white cinematography, music, and a special mention to editing with so many spying glances.

Masahiro Shinoda's Pale Flower, like many products of the Japanese New Wave movement, is an immaculate mixture of the old and the new. Having studied under Ozu, Shinoda frames the film beautifully, taking influence from American film noir and the French New Wave to tell a story of ageing mobster Muraki (Ryo Ikebe) who is fresh out of prison. However, this is no straight-forward yakuza movie, and the film's loose plot and broodingly charismatic anti-hero are used at every turn to subvert the genre.

Having served his time for murder and winning the respect of his peers for keeping his mouth shut, Muraki drifts back into the life he once knew. It's a world of excessive gambling, and it's whilst partaking in an unfathomable game involving black chips that he meets the mysterious Saeko (Mariko Kaga), a beautiful girl with an unhealthy thirst for excitement. He is told that she comes every night and loses all of her money, only to come back the next day for more. Muraki is instantly drawn to her, and the two embark on an equally destructive, but not physical, relationship.

With his sharp suits, handsome face, perfect hair and nigh-on permanent black sunglasses, Muraki is the epitome of New Wave cool. But Pale Flower is a more than just an exercise in style. Like Alain Delon's character in Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Samourai, Muraki is a creature of violence stuck in an existential void. Loyal to his yakuza boss for seemingly no other reason than habit, he is constantly restless and bored. Saeko fiercely sparks his interest; as she embarks in a high speed car race with a man she's never met just for the thrill, Muraki watches her, hypnotised and confused.

Though we see her laugh orgasmically at the cheap thrills life can offer and talk about her desire to try heroin, there is little revealed about Saeko's inner thoughts and background. Muraki is drawn to her perhaps because she shares his disconnection with the structure of modern life, a common theme in the Japanese New Wave. Though the film is, for the most part, moody and intense, shrouded in shadows and cigarette smoke, Shinoda doesn't neglect to include some black humour. A running joke involving a severed fingers adds a nihilistic quality to the film, leading to a bleak ending that is powerfully fitting.

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Yakuza, Muraki is released from prison after three years for stabbing and killing a member of a rival gang. He is shocked to find out that his bosses have since amalgamated with the rival gang to fight off the advances of another gang from Osaka which is muscling in on their patch. Muraki is addicted to gambling and soon finds himself back in illegal gambling dens, where he meets with the alluring and seemingly very rich Saeko, a young woman who is addicted to living fast and seeking new thrills to keep her entertained. Through his contacts he introduces her to bigger games where the crime bosses play for much bigger stakes. Shinoda was part of the "New Wave" of Japanese film-makers that were frowned upon in many circles, not least by the Shochiko studio, generally a family orientated studio made famous by Ozu. To make matters worse the author Masaru Baba was less than impressed by the directors visual flair, (a flair that has been compared to that of Jean Pierre Melville and the French New Wave). He believed the visuals clouded his story, as a result the film was banned in Japan due to its over elaborations on illegal gambling. This quickly led Shinoda to the opinion that making films independently was the only way to go in the future, as even Tôru Takemitsu's superb score was frowned upon in Japan. Shinoda's visuals are exceptional and evoke memories of Noir Classics of the past, with all the staples catered for, rain drenched neon lit streets, chiaroscuro lighting, jaunty camera angles, our hero, cigarette on his lip wandering through the night with his lady of dubious past and intentions. As Muraki's affections grow for his new found platonic playmate, it would also seem to mirror the demise of his affections for all things Yakuza, he is a world weary man, an intelligent man, certainly more so than anyone in his own circles, he realises his own merits and deficiencies and comes to the conclusion he could have done better with life. Even Muraki's long time girlfriend who loves him dearly, wants to move on, Muraki is powerless to hold on to her as his infatuation grows, to the point where he is having lucid nightmares concerning Saeko. Pale Flower is not all doom and gloom though, there are respites of wryly dark humour, usually found in the mundane day to day workings of the Yakuza. Pale Flower is an astonishingly rich and layered character study that will keep even those with an aversion to subtitles entertained.

Ryo Ikebe is perfect as the super-cool, sharply dressed ex-con who willingly seals his own fate despite his obvious intelligence and powers of perception. His body language is crisp and economical and his life experience is etched into his face. He is the Japanese doppleganger of the under-appreciated (except by Tarrantino) American actor Robert Forster. This is actually worthy of a remake starring Forster but I heavily doubt if any filmmaker can recreate the style and panache that Mr. Shinoda injected into every shot of the astonishing cinematography. In an interview on the DVD extra, he says that nihilism was his main theme but it's a quiet, shadow-covered nihilism, not explosive and bombastic. There are very few scenes of violence; action is not the show here. The heart of the film is the undefinable relationship between the adrenaline-loving rich girl and the yakuza hit man. Shinoda likens his position in life as the embodiment of post-war Japan caught between the Soviet Union and the USA. The climactic hit is brilliantly choreographed, shot and scored. Certain elements of Pale Flower evoked memories of The Face of Another, a totally different type of film that also explored the existential subjects of solitude, isolation and alienation.