Takashi Miike’s 2003 effort, The Great Yakuza Horror Theatre: Gozu, is one of my favourite films by the director. Like Fudoh, it was released straight-to-video, and like Fudoh was instead screened before video release to audiences at the Cannes Film Festival; to much praise and acclaim of a director pushing the boundaries of film narrative than his closest example, David Lynch.
Miike is an incredibly intelligent director. He releases an enormous number of films; more than any other director that I can think of (at least 7 in 2002, 5 in 2003 and 4 in 2004). His films don’t always go down well with even his own fans, let alone the general public who aren’t aware of who Takashi Miike is.
Gozu was a film that either confounded you to the point of frustration and labelled the film as far too abstract, full of meaningless sketches that amounted to nothing more than a contrived notion of what a film ought to be; or it was a deeply philosophical film, echoing the fable of Orpheus and Eurydice, demonstrating an unrequited eternal love and loyalty to one person, regardless of the dangers and consequences to their own existence.
Minami (Hideki Sone) is Ozaki’s (Sho Aikawa) loyalist subject and the only one that pledges a unique dedication to his elder brother (in terms of Yakuza hierarchy). Ozaki, however, is considered unstable and a danger to the Yakuza family and its businesses.
When their boss (Renji Isibashi) visits to find out what they’ve been up to, Ozaki notices a dog outside being cuddled by two women. He insists that the dog is that of a rival Yakuza, and must be eliminated before it eliminates them. After Ozaki’s outburst and following a rather brutal animal beating, his boss decides that this is the final straw and issues Minami to eliminate Ozaki by taking him to the disposal site.
A conflict arises within Minami – one that dedicates his loyalty to his brother, and one that dedicates himself to this boss. While on their journey, Ozaki experiences another moment of insanity, which adds further pressure to Minami’s assignment. Confused, and rather timid, Minami almost drives the car into a river without a bridge, and in the process, accidentally kills Ozaki. Frightened as well as confused, Minami is now forced to continue his journey and decides to stop at a cafe, where a visit results in the disappearance of his brother’s body.
Gozu is a fascinating film, full of irony, tragedy, and metaphor. You also have to give credit to Miike, as he is perhaps one of the few directors that will tackle subjects such as homoeroticism, incest and other taboo subjects with such ingenuity and such originality making other directors look archaic and drained of ideas by comparison.
Of course Miike is always a director that does not limit love by stereotypes (man loves woman) but often breaks illusions of what is considered safe by the audience and other movie distributors. Be it transsexuals, hermaphrodites, male of female homosexuals, or even the lust for a family member – Miike tackles the subjects head on as part of the story, rather than treating it as some subject of exploitation or fascination, or side story. It’s not treated in a special way, as most Western directors seem to feel the need to do.
There are typical Miike moments, but also subtle nuances such as the flickering of the film during the scene when Minami reaches the river. This alone suggests that things are about to change (it’s part of the film rather than something erroneous). Things, as the flicker prompts, do change and Minami’s world will be full of strange occurrences that still have some logical meaning; rather than nonsense spewed by those who fail to understand the deeper meaning of the film as more than just random art called film such as being a pastiche of existing stereotypical Yakuza films.
The film is also, in some respects, a journey of the loss of innocence in Minami; this 30-something adult is both a virgin to sex and it seems killing. His persona is that of someone with the Yakuza, but the actuality of who he is demonstrated through his undeterred investigation to discover where Ozaki’s body has disappeared to. In the end, does he actually achieve all that he needs to become an adult? Does he pass the ritual of the tasks that are laid before him, in order to locate Ozaki?
Minami is met by zombie transvestites, a disfigured guide, an aged and mental, incestuous brother and sister in a town where logic and reason doesn’t seem to have any place. Every experience and correspondence meets with some bizarre result. There are some rather wicked (as in evil) scenes, such as the insane beatings inflicted by the sister to the brother; or the breast milk; or the demon with a cow head, dribbling from its mouth.
The use of brilliant and strange characters, in a subdued and quiet town where eccentricity and odd behaviour are the norm is an ideal setting for the tasks that befall Minami. What is interesting is how the town could be seen as a journey into hell; that Ozaki’s death was by design, but Minami’s unfettered loyalty and love for Ozaki (both in a brotherly and in a homoerotic way) drag him to hell to bring him back. Love has no boundaries nor limits – much like the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, where Orpheus himself goes to hell to bring back his wife defying the odds set against him.
I would highly recommend this film to anyone with an open mind – that would include existing fans of Miike’s work, because there are moments where you may feel rather overwhelmed by the power of the imagery; or perhaps feel an unnerving creepiness about the whole ordeal. The final scene is fascinating as it is humourous, and humour is used wonderfully throughout in a deadpan manner – including Ozaki’s death. The final scene is, shall we say, Miike doing what he does best: gore with humour. It’s a disturbing scene, but a memorable one that again has some metaphorical connotations, and not just done for a cheap laugh. Nothing in this film is random; everything about this film is sublime.
Verdict: A traditional tale of love and loyalty told with electrifying visual imagery, a huge dose of humour, and a vivid imagination