Pale Flower

Most of the Asian gangster movies I have seen, promote the brotherhood and the comradery between members, like Young and Dangerous, or have denounced gangster activity, showing if as degrading and evil. This movie does neither. It instead shows how gangster life has both good and bad; however in the end proves to be a pointless cause. The main character, is just released from jail, and immediately reunites with his own yakuza. His life is changed when he meets Saeko, a young woman who is addicted to high stakes life of the yakuza. Together they journey through a city and time, where everything is changing constantly; yet in the end, it becomes apparent that none of these things really matter. This movie is really good. I recommend it.

Film devotees have long realized that the "new wave" art cinema of Japan in the 60's was as innovative and profound as the revolutionary American and European product of the era. What is now becoming clear to fans in the West inured to Godzilla and Starman is that the little-seen Japanese genre pictures of the time were in many cases just as startling and artistic. "Pale Flower" is a case in point. It has the breathtaking luminous-white on inky-black lighting, the fragmented framing, and massive potential energy threatening to explode from the edges of the screen that so characterize the contemporaneous films of Seijun Suzuki (of "Branded to Kill" fame). But instead of that director's post-modern excesses, this film takes a somber, meditative tack, not unlike Beat Takeshi's recent "Sonatine", presenting a carefully-wrought, moody character study amid the expected thrills. The musical score, when it surfaces, is suitably avant-garde, and the frame is filled with rich detail and well-defined characters, like the crime boss obsessed with his dental health. A must-see for the adventurous film buff.

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.

Upon his release from prison for killing a rival mobster, Muraki strolls the streets of Tokyo and muses that nothing has changed in three years and that people are little more than half dead stupid animals whose lives are meaningless. In voice-over he asks "What was so wrong with killing one of them?" While he was away the two Tokyo gangs have reached a truce in order to eliminate a third gang from Osaka. Muraki is unsure of his role in the new alliance and places little value in the yakuza (gangster) code. He is a lone wolf who, while a dependable team player, is a risk taker who takes action on his own and finds consolation from his weary existence in the Tokyo nights and its' gambling dens.

Saeko is a well dressed, beautiful young woman with lots of cash and, like Muraki, is a creature of the night. They meet at a card game where Saeko recklessly wagers, loses and wants more. A woman in such a place is an oddity and all the players are fascinated by her, including Muraki. When she asks Muraki if he knows of a game where the stakes are higher he knows that he has found what he was looking for. The two are immediately drawn to one another and their fates are sealed. Together they combat the boredom of life with high stakes gambling, high speed joy rides (she drives) and other thrills that come with living on the edge. They agree that whatever they do, they can forgive themselves. "I have no use for the dawn. I adore these evil nights," says Saeko. A truer noir couple there never was. But when Saeko becomes drawn to another mid level yakuza – the half-Chinese junkie Yoh - Muraki feels a sense of loss. To win her back he asks Saeko if she wants to watch him as he assassinates the head of the Osaka syndicate. She cannot say no and he knows it.

While it is not a typical yakuza film as there is little bloodshed and killing, it is a gritty portrait of yakuza life: gambling dens, night clubs, racetracks and doing things they have to do and feeling good about it. It is their life and it is unquestioned. It is this that the film is really about: fate and the impending doom that hangs over all of the characters. It reflects the end of the old Japanese tradition of honor and obedience to a patriarchal system that was in disarray after their defeat in WWII and the occupation that followed. The American film noir existentialism and stunning expressionist photography in monochrome Cinemascope create a film experience that is the equal of anything that came out of Europe and the U.S. Even the card game scenes, a game called hana fuda with a deck that has twelve suits all named after flowers, have an intensity that is very noir. There is also a bizarre dream sequence that adds to the stylized strangeness of the film as does the avant garde soundtrack by Toru Takemitsu. The strange and confusing percussion and brass of Takemitsu's score somehow seems in perfect sync with what we are seeing on the screen. This is a complete film experience.

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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