Tokyo Fist

This is not a movie you experience with the brain, rather it's an assault on the senses. Some of my favourite cinema does that, and I'm always on the lookout for movies that call us to live through a certain experience, to vicariously sense the world as another person might. The ultimate joy is for me to be able to take out something that matters, an otherwise impossible view of the world in my livingroom that makes sense.

The problem of Tokyo Fist is that it's packed with so much rage and annihilation yet aims it nowhere. The boxer characters are punching, but they're not punching outwards, at society, nor inwards at the soul, they're simply pummeling and being pummeled senseless. Senseless is an apt word here, for in Tokyo Fist the mind doesn't matter, and the human body is something to be destroyed, the senses torn from it and thrown in a bloody heap on a grimy floor. Tsukamoto can be seen beating his head in a bloody pulp against a wall, but that wall signifies nothing. The spurts of blood gushing from broken noses and deformed bonecheeks, the film celebrates with the comic verve of Sam Raimi.

With time Tsukamoto would grow out of the techno angst of this period, but enabling the maturity of films like Vital, a certain youthful vitality had to be sacrificed in the process. I lament this because few directors dare make films like his, even Tsukamoto himself doesn't seem able to make them anymore.

Fits of jealousy, miserable love triangles, personality changes, all these are trifle story points. What I take from Tokyo Fist is the aimlessness of violence, taken to the extreme because there's nothing to absorb it. Likely Tsukamoto grew up in a Japanese society of the 80's and 90's, like the rest of the world, stifled in the mire of apathy and complacency. People had the money to buy and the selection to buy from, but not the struggle with grand ideals. The resulting New Wave of his cinema is a New Wave of disillusionment turned against itself, a shell without a solid core to make it dream a better society.

In this light, it makes sense to see Tsukamoto playing a young employee, fresh out of high school and already into a suit and a tie running errands for a faceless corporation, turning into a crazed animal for whom even love is a petulant obsession, another passing need to be consummated.

lemme start out by saying that i enjoyed tetsuo one very much, to me it was like a live action anime. i was excited to see tokyo fist when i saw the directors name and by judging the comments on it here. I have to say that i really didnt understand what he was getting at 90 percent of the time. lots of cameras shaking up and down and blood spouting from peoples heads does not a good movie make. I dont understand one of the comments here, saying that it was "infinitely more coherant" then tetsuo. for one thing the dialogue was so badly translated that they could barely put the most simple of english words in the correct context. i dont mind a complete lack of plot, as long as the ride is interesting. this to me was not.

Japanese film maker genius and multi-talent Shinya Tsukamoto's Tokyo Fist (Tokyo-ken, 1995) is as stunning and incredible experience as can be expected after seeing his two Tetsuo films in which a human body and metal (machine) became one with a horrific results. Tsukamoto's cinema is filled with hyper fast editing, shaking camera, fast forwards and every imaginable things to shock the viewer senses and make the weakest faint. Tokyo Fist is not any exception.

Director himself plays Tsuda, a nerdish Japanese insurance salesman who has a beautiful girlfriend Hizuru (Kahori Fujii) whom with he lives seemingly peacefully and in love. But still it looks like Tsuda has some problems in his life and seems to be on the edge of his sanity. Soon his high school time friend Kojima arrives (played by the director's brother, Kôji Tsukamoto) and he is a professional boxer and very fierce one. When he starts to be interested in Tsuda's girl, all physical and mental hell breaks loose as Tsuda gets an obsession to start to box himself, too, and Hizuru starts to have some very severe habits of body piercing and self mutilation. The infernal ride has begun and the viewer is not recommended to take it granted that he'll/she'll stomach the ride till the end because this is Tsukamoto. That means incredible power and impact straight to your face.

The film is perhaps even wilder at some points than the first Tetsuo (1988) as the message and imagery is really heavy this time and the film is in color, too. The fists, the punches and the mayhem is always aimed straight to the camera, the viewer and audience, so the viewer will be on the edge of the seat for the whole time, and it all is of course at its most powerful when seen on the big screen. Tsukamoto has the talent to hammer and force his things to the skull and spinal cord of the viewer and he does it all with the magic of editing and cinematography, and definitely not least of Chu Ishikawa's pounding and merciless soundtrack which is here as effective and wonderful as in Tetsuo.

The visuals are impressive and every twisted camera angle has its purpose and meaning as well as every bit of mist and darkness that is shed during the ride. The effect when he shakes his camera is something truly unique and definitely much more powerful way to depict the feelings and mental states of the characters than any dialogue ever could. Fast edits and unconventional usage of camera can be very irritating and needless when used without any real reason or to make the film look "stylish", but they can also be heart stoppingly effective when they have a cinematic meaning and the director could just simply write on the paper what the edit or camera angle means inside the film. Tetsuo is another great example of this and its black and white scenery is no less powerful than the colors in Tokyo Fist. Tokyo Fist is extremely menacing as there hardly are any peaceful moments and there's all the time some element there to make it clear that it is not peaceful even though it may look like it.

The film's theme is about human nature and its jealous and weak sides as the characters can't live without taking or producing physical pain. The smashed faces and the scenes of surreal gore spurting at nightmarish anger are really something to make us ask why do the characters do it. Why cannot human nature solve things in other way than physical force and violence and how many of us dares to admit the brute sides of ourselves and accept them? And then of course keep them away and on the background. The final image is kind of "optimistic" but definitely no character gets out without the result and payment of their deeds. The film is also a good example for those who think that in Japanese cinema females are often on the background and weaker than men as the lead female in Tokyo Fist practically (and quite passively!) makes, at first so powerful and dominating, Kojima as her submissive slave.

The film begins as in our familiar world in modern day Japan but it is not so long before Tsukamoto gives us the first glimpses of his surreal visions that are taken at their extremes in the incredible blood soaked nightmare finale "in the ring", a finale that is so fierce, kinetic and merciless piece of film making it just makes me appreciate and love Japanese cinema even more with its many sides never or very rarely paralleled in other world cinema. The gore and violence is sudden and almost unbearably shocking at times but the blood geysirs are not realistic nor they're meant to be; they are from the film's own world and as symbolic and surreal as in the Japanese samurai classic The Baby Cart aka Lone Wolf & Cub series in the early seventies, the first two parts of that series edited also into one feature film as Shogun Assassin (1980). Still none of these films manages to give the kind of impact in their violence or any other element than Tokyo Fist, but the surreal depiction of physical violence is pretty similar with Tsukamoto and The Baby Cart pieces.

Perhaps only negative point I can find in Tokyo Fist is that some of the characters seem to develop a little too fast and they should have been little more motivated and restrained. For example, Tsuda seems to be completely mad already and is capable to rape his girlfriend any time so these kind of things should be explained little more carefully in order to make the piece perfect and the characters more real. Still the characters are very good and the message and theme gets delivered very effectively through their acts and there's absolutely no question that the visual magic and impact of Tsukamoto's deserves nothing less than praising and moments of pure amazement.

Shinya Tsukamoto is the kind of Master of Cinema that he really deserves his name in the thanks section of the end credits of every young film maker's film who has got inspiration from his work. His films have the ability to make people faint, shock, turn the head off the screen and stun in their power and it all is done practically by himself as he works as an editor, cinematographer, art director etc. in his own films and thus expresses his visions. His films would be totally unforgettable when seen at least once in the big screen but fortunately the effect is still very strong on television, too. Tokyo Fist is among the most fierce, angry and honest rides of cinema I've ever experienced and everytime I see something from its maker, I cannot help but feel confused and amazed in front of Japan and its invaluable gifts during the centuries to the world of cinema.

9/10

Lest one think subject matter grounded in real life, like boxing and interpersonal drama, would temper Tsukamoto Shinya's unmistakable style of film-making, let's lay those thoughts to rest right now. We're treated to the same rapid cuts that result in a frenetic look and feel, and loose, handheld camerawork that feels informal, personal, and confrontational, and which further lends to that frenetic tenor. We absolutely get some blood and gore among other stunts and practical effects, and the quick sequences of stop-motion animation that he perfected in his famous breakthrough 'Tetsuo: The iron man,' not to mention very specific choices of lighting to help foster dark overtones. For good measure, add in an original score that often directly or indirectly echoes the harsh industrial music proliferate in the man's best known works; industrial, brutalist, or urban imagery; and enthusiastic overacting wherever it may be appropriate. 'Tokyo fist' may play in a different genre space, but Tsukamoto's stamp is all over it, even including a subtler variation on the theme of transformation that is paramount in a fair portion of his oeuvre.

With all this well in mind I can understand how the filmmaker's tendencies won't appeal to all comers, and I'm not about to sit here and say that the picture is a pure must-see. There are also small touches of homophobia scattered herein that really haven't aged well; this may have been the 90s, but folks should know better. All the same II find myself rather pleased with how good it is, and I think Tsukamoto's brand of film-making and storytelling manages to work pretty well in this instance. The root story is a suitable melodrama in which outwardly mild-mannered office worker Tsuda comes into conflict with old friend Kojima, chiefly but not exclusively over beautiful Hizuru. Layered atop this foundation are the efforts by all three characters to wildly remake themselves, and with the flourishes for which Tsukamoto is known, the resulting tableau is characterized in large part by the vibes that conventionally belong to more violent, far-flung, action-packed genres. It's an interesting blend that shifts somewhat between tones, but it all fits together surprisingly well.

I do think the writing is uneven and imperfect - maybe even ultimately a little unsophisticated, truthfully - and the storytelling could have been tightened and refined. This applies to the filmmaker's sequencing, too, which seems a smidgen disjointed. Be that as it may, the core of the feature is marvelously strong. The central narrative is compelling and satisfying, and more than it may seem at first blush; the scene writing is smart and flavorful. As Tsukamoto wears multiple hats, as he commonly does with his endeavors, his versatility is without question, including his direction and cinematography. Especially as the journeys of their characters more or less escalate in the latter half I think the cast give excellent, vibrant performances to bring their characters and the story to life, quite naturally including Tsukamoto himself, his brother Koji, and definitely co-star Fujii Kahori (among others). Terrific production design and art direction adjoin fantastic filming locations, and from costume design to gnarly special makeup and practical effects, 'Tokyo fist' looks all-around great. Further factor in good use of sound and Ishikawa Chu's swell music, and I think this is a movie that kind of grows on you.

It has some shortcomings, it's a bit garish at times, and neither the violence nor Tsukamoto's personal style will appeal to all comers. To the same point, while the sum total shares considerable kinship with the filmmaker's other works, it remains true that this is in some measure a different type of title. Nonetheless, I sat to watch with expectations that were a tad mixed, and at length I'm very pleased with how sharp it turned out to be. Strictly speaking I should maybe be viewing the whole with more criticism, yet the fact is that this flick carries itself with a vehemence, and and a ferocious energy, that helps its value to outshine its less sure-footed facets. It's the application of outrageous horror sensibilities to a premise that's fairly ordinary, and when all is said and done 'Tokyo fist' is striking and evocative in a way that makes me kind of love it. One should be well aware of Tsukamoto's proclivities before watching, and I'm not saying the film is a total revelation, but if you do have the opportunity to watch, it's unique, memorable, and invigorating, not to mention entertaining and satisfying, and I'm happy to give 'Tokyo fist' my hearty recommendation.

Watching a movie by Shinya Tsukamoto is a bit like staring into the deepest pits of hell, or the darkest recesses of the male psyche, whichever way you want to put it. But then the two seem fairly synonymous, at least if the sheer visceral anger in Tokyo Fist is anything to go by.

Those aware of Tsukamoto's feature-length debut Tetsuo (1988) will be familiar with the basic premise in Tokyo Fist; flawed relationship between man and woman is brutally disrupted by an outside element which challenges the protagonist to a potentially lethal, and eventually soul-destroying, duel. Similarly to other pioneers of horror (eg. Cronenberg, Miike), Tsukamoto chooses to use all kinds of repulsive visuals. Just to give you an idea, if a face almost literally falling off after a boxing match is too much for you, it's probably best to stay away from this film.

However, the brutal imagery is not completely pointless. Tokyo Fist portrays male anger with such honesty that it is sometimes painful to watch, but that's really the point since violence is not something to be cooed at or to be admired (which is what many Hollywood movies seemingly aim to achieve, witness the way audiences are prompted to cheer for the good guy as he murders the baddie). The violence in Tokyo Fist is allegorical in nature, ie. it stands for something else than just simply fists flying: the inability between men and women (and, indeed, men and men) to understand each other ultimately leads to the kind of extreme violence we see on screen. This, ironically, makes Tokyo Fist a part of the great humanist tradition in Japanese cinema, alongside Rashomon and other such movies, because, even though it uses extreme imagery to make a point, it makes the same point all the same: if we relish in jealousy, revenge and anger we will only end up destroying each other, and ultimately ourselves. Does Hollywood ever deal with violence this eloquently?

Also, as with Tetsuo, the characters in Tokyo Fist seem to live entirely in a world of their own. Many shots frame them either alone, or surrounded by an anonymous mass which fails to notice them or appreciate their presence (even as Tsuda stands in the middle of a shopping mall, his face beaten to a pulp). I can't think of another film-maker who sums up urban alienation as brilliantly as Tsukamoto does; the sheer contradiction of city life, in which a great mass of people are all huddled together at close range, and yet find themselves completely lonely and alienated from one another.

For all intents and purposes, Tokyo Fist is a movie which requires a strong stomach and an open mind. But it's a great achievement all the same.