Author: BRWC

Tetsuo: The Iron Man is one of those remarkable films that manages to be both critically revered and reviled. Adored by fans and striking genuine fear into others. Released in 1989 it was the first theatrical release by director/producer/writer/actor Shinya Tsukamoto who’s previous background had been in short films and avant-garde theatre. Tsukamoto pulled his considerable artistic resources to create something that resembles an actual nightmare on screen.

The plot – centers on a salaryman (Tomorowo Taguichi) who begins mutating into a machine like organism after running down the Metal Fetishist (Shinya Tsukamoto) with his car. As the salaryman begins to transform further into a junk of metal he engages in sexual acts with his girlfriend (Kei Fujiwara), suffers from increasingly deranged nightmares and finally engages the Metal Fetishist in a battle of to see who will become the ultimate iron man.

Story seems to matter very little in The Iron Man – yes there is one – but it’s essentially a conduit for Tsukamoto’s twisted visual design. It’s both beautiful and profoundly grotesque, not to say remarkable considering the films modest budget. Shot in a stark black and white that only adds to films feverish quality, everything on screen looks twisted and sick. The nameless town that acts as the backdrop feels like a junkheap. The salaryman’s flat feels like a dungeon. This is not a film to make you feel good. Even with it’s modest running time it can feel overbearing. Moments of nightmarish montages which last mere seconds look like the work of painstaking hours of stop motion and make up work. The gore – which, let’s be honest will be why a great number of people watch – is incredibly visceral. As the salaryman begins his transformation each metal pipe, piece of tubing and huge drill penis (yeah you read that right) is accompanied by bone crunching and blood letting sound effects. It’s an unoriginal comparison to make but it really does call to mind the heyday of Cronenberg’s body horror films and indeed Jekyll & Hyde. As his body transforms into it’s deranged metal form the salaryman goes from being meek and frightened to head strong and dominating. As the film reaches it’s climax he realises the amazing/terrible things he can do with his new powers.

Which leads nicely into Body Hammer. Released in 1992 it serves as a vague sequel/re-telling of the first film. This time shot in bright colours, with a larger cast and budget, Body Hammer looks to expand on the themes touched upon in Iron Man. Taguichi returns as the salaryman who is this time married with a son. After a kidnap attempt is made on his son the salaryman decides to start working out, he quickly develops the skills to lift huge weights. After a second kidnap attempt leaves his son dead the salaryman’s rage starts to physically manifest itself with his transformation into the Iron Man. Tsukamoto returns as the Metal Fetishist, this time round the leader of a cult of weight lifting skin-heads who believe that the Fetishist has God-like powers to turn them into super iron men.

Any other day of the week Body Hammer would seem like some alternative film lovers wet dream. The gore and violence are back in spades. The lighting, editing and sound effects are all off kilter and the plot is, for lack of a better word, bonkers. But when held next to Iron Man it seems somewhat middle of the road. Take Iron Man as an intense art horror film, Body Hammer is closer to a disturbed action thriller. This time around Tsukamoto seeks to give mythology behind the metal metamorphosis which was kept largely a secret in the the first film. In doing so it actually makes the whole affair harder to swallow. Without giving much away in Iron Man is was easier to sit back and except the horrific transformation was happening, just… because. Now we’re given a family back story which makes the iron men feel more like evil superheroes than freakish monsters. It has a similar diluting power that Ringu 2 had when it sort to give backstory to the ghosts. Actually trying to provide the Tetsuo films with plot only makes you realise what weirdly stupid films they are. That sounds way too harsh though because Body Hammer is still an entertaining watch if you wanted your Power Rangers to be ultra violent as a child. Re-watching I also noticed how visually similar it is to Takashi Miike’s Ichi the Killer, which Tsukamoto would end up featuring in.

Visually Tsukamoto finds time to include the iconic Tetsuo stop-motion montages that only he seems to do so well. He also brings a deeper colour palette than his previous film Hiruko the Goblin. Body Hammer also begins an odd little trilogy in itself as Tsukamoto began exploring the idea of the weak individual conditioning his body in order to defeat his tormentors which is a plot theme carried into his next two films Tokyo Fist and Bullet Ballet.

Released on blu-ray in a two for one package both films look great in their new transfers. You probably know already if you want to own these films. When they were released on DVD by Tartan a few years ago they seemed to create the Asia Extreme line all on their own.
especially is a very tough film to watch which many will understandably loathe and switch off. If you’re a fan of experimental shorts or off balance cinema in general there is much to enjoy.

I had never heard of the Chinese city of Nanking until I watched this film last night, and was entirely unaware of the brutal, tragic massacre that took place there in 1937. Having since briefly researched this episode in the war between China and Japan, I wish that The Flowers of War (2011) had more successfully depicted the true weight of the horror that ravaged the ex-capital. Instead, despite some stunning visuals and notable performances, this film falls just short of being truly moving.

The international cast, headed by Christian Bale as American mortician John Millar, portray a single perspective on the city-wide massacre. The vast majority of the film, aside from the opening ten minutes, takes place inside the ‘Winchester’ Cathedral, which towers – relatively undamaged – amongst the dust and corpse-filled mayhem of Nanking. Hiding within its hallowed walls are a class of young Convent schoolgirls, subsequently joined by Bale’s John Millar as well as a group of sassy, colourful prostitutes from the infamous Qin Huai River district. The film depicts the tension between these factions, and ultimately the sacrifices that they make for one another in the face of a greater evil (in this case, the savage Japanese soldiers).

Director Zhang Yimou (House of Flying Daggers, Hero) is quoted as saying that “Steven [Spielberg] read the script and said it was like the Schindler’s List of China.” This is a fair summary – the film is, like many others before it, a tale of one man fighting to protect the innocent amongst the chaos of war. The problem is that previous movies – Schindler’s List, Hotel Rwanda – have done it a lot better. The Flowers of War feels like an Ikea flatpack: they took all the parts required to make an Oscar-winning war drama, but got confused by the instructions and ended up with something that was almost a convincing coffee table; nevertheless, you wouldn’t want to actually rest your drink on it.

As mentioned, the performances are great – all credit should be paid to the child actors, in particular Xinyi Zhang as the strong-willed schoolgirl Shu and Tianyuan Huang as the convent’s lone boy George. Christian Bale does what Christian Bale does: he plays the character with an accuracy and intensity that is impressive, if not wholly emotionally convincing. Again, there is a sense that aspects of the film were included because the writers or director felt that they should be there: Bale’s character begins as a cynical and selfish alcoholic, but quickly reveals his heart of gold – somewhat too quickly for it to be believable. Love interest Yu Mo (played well by newcomer Ni Ni) exposes the truth that her apparent strength hides a traumatic past, and again this feels somewhat hollow.

The feminist philosophy student in me could write an essay on the reflections of sexuality, innocence and prostitution portrayed within The Flowers of War, but I’ll leave that for now (cue cheers from the reader). Suffice to say, there are some brutal, horrifying moments in the film that demonstrate the savagery of this particular slice of war history; these were the hardest-hitting and the most memorable. On the other hand, the sweeter emotional and sentimental aspects brought welcome respite from the violence, yet failed to leave a lasting impression.

By the end of the film, I knew little about the massacre of Nanking but a lot about Zhang Yimou’s Oscar aspirations. The film is beautifully shot, no doubt thanks in part to the insanely high budget (“more than Schindler’s Listand Saving Private Ryan combined!” shouted the back of my DVD). However, this might be proof that spending a lot of money can’t necessarily buy you an Oscar, or a first rate review (clearly more important), no matter how hard you try.