Pisutoru opera

If ya like colors, this is the flick for you! So all you lame-o b&w Orson Welles fans who are looking for cinematic architecture and intellectual substance, go away!

Ok sarcasm aside, this is truly an enjoyable film... if you like colors. If you like to be bombarded with surreal images and bizarre plot leaps, such as characters being dead one minute, alive the next, and basically existing in an incomprehensible dream world which ends with the words "wtf" on everyone's lips, then this film will wow you.

Me personally, I liked it, but I liked it the same way I like an opera (literally an opera, get it?) where the point is to enjoy the artistry of the presentation rather than any type of storytelling.

Compare this to maybe some of Andy Worhol's experimental work, though not quite as self indulgent as an 8 hour still camera on the Empire State Building. Maybe closer to something by David Lynch, Peter Greenaway or Tarkovsky... BUT (and this is a "big butt" of Peewee Hermanian proportions), what makes it interesting is a dark comic, tongue-in-cheek sort of self mockery which keeps the film from seeming too pretentious.

So imagine all those "pretentious" filmmakers I just mentioned, but add a heavy splash of Quentin Tarantino ("Pulp Fiction"), mix vigorously and of course add lots of bloomin COLORS. Have you seen the infamous Monkees film "Head"? There ya go

Seijun Suzuki has made great films, and at least some very good ones. And oddly enough some of those films were done not with a completely free hand. Suzuki had resistance (and even got fired during the editing) with Branded to Kill, his 1967 masterpiece that serves as the sort of inspiration for this *extremely* loose remake/re-telling. But maybe that served him better than here, which is a little like Lynch with Inland Empire: the floodgates are open, and it's high time to just let whatever s***'s inside fly out. Only unlike a Lynchian DV mescaline trip into brain-tubes, this is like a Kabuki fever dream cooked up by the samurai in Lowry's dream scenes in Brazil. It's an artist working without a net and, frankly, without much of a story or close to identifiable actors, either.

If Pistol Opera weren't made by a director who has a sure hand with his craft, if not in his old age a mastery, then it would be just about unwatchable. This is something sad to say as I would have loved to consider Pistol Opera a luxurious expressionist piece, something that is so assured with creating a mood that it doesn't need a firm story. But in this story, whatever there is of it, about a female No. 3 killer (in Branded it was male) who has to face off against the Hundred Eyes killer and the No. 1 killer while fending off the pleas of a little girl who just wants to be a killer too, it needs some kind of focus from time to time. After a few scenes of strange set up where No. 3 faces her "boss" of sorts who wears a mouth mask and talk in abstract dialog, the film just goes off into tangents... and then more of them...

Some of this, perhaps, was meant to be parody, a delirious send-up of both Yakuza thrillers and Kabuki theater, and its shot half on location (there is, in one of the most satisfying and crazy scenes, a chase between No. 3 and a man in a skewed wheelchair along a riverbank), half in studio. But it's not very funny, and its not really all-encompassing as a work of surrealism. I was taken in by its cinematography and sets and a perversely awesome array of colors, and make no mistake there's rarely a frame of the film that doesn't look gorgeous. But there needs to be more than just fantastical camera moves. There's a shoot-out towards the end that not only breaks the 180 degree rule (you know the one if you're familiar with basic camera direction) but gives it a middle finger with a silver bullet right between the face.

But there needs to be something else, something that Branded to Kill and Tokyo Drifter just had instinctively, which is soul, a purpose in its subversion. Too much of Pistol Opera feels like exercise without result, like in those overlong scenes with the woman talking to the camera about God knows what. I expected the unexpected, but I didn't expect to be... bewildered to disappointment.

If you've never seen a Seijun Suzuki film don't start with this one. I cannot state that strongly enough.

Taken as a film in isolation, judging it on its own merits, this film fails. Fails interestingly, but fails.

The acting is appalling. The script is pretentious gobbledegook. There are parts of the film when it seems like even the director is sleepwalking. The sets and props are clearly badly made. The actors aren't very good or even interesting looking. The soundtrack is bad. Your friends will think you're a paedophile.

BUT... There are incredible moments in this film. Jaw dropping changes of colour. Symbolic actions. Bizarre perspectives. A new way of looking at everyday items and interactions. Some moments that recall the old thrill of watching the original "Branded to Kill".

The sheer ambition of certain moments is heartening. You think of things like German Expressionism and pop art and say "wow". It's tantalising.

This is a film interesting for those people who've followed Suzuki's career and want to see his next experiment in non-realist cinema and storytelling. Unfortunately that's the only level on which this film works.

A lot of sloppiness seems to be passed off by many as "abstract" in this movie. However, even so, the amazing color work and over-all beauty of the movie makes me want to give it a 9. Unfortunately, 1 scene of the movie is making me drop the score to 7. During Hyaku-Me's monologue about her dream and flags, the boom mic bobs in and out of the scene multiple scenes. Barring this error, the movie has a 2 thumbs up soundtrack, rather good acting, and great scenery.

A series of pleasurable moments full of colors and cartoonish acting with awesome costumes and offbeat characters. Did you get the hint? The story's full of symbolism and artsyfartsy poop that won't sit well on a mainstream menu.

Not that Tetsuo the Iron-man and Pistol Opera director Seijun have the same class, but the titles Bullet Ballet and Pistol Opera just show that there must be a link between the minds of these two discontinuous narrators.

I like the lead actress, so I am biased, and I like kimonos so I am biased, and I like colorful movies, so I am biased, and I like symbolic films so I am biased, and I like discontinuous narratives, so I am biased, and I am Japanese, so I am biased: I liked the movie.