Okay,
first things first: Ichi is pronounced “ee-chee,” not
“itchy,” otherwise this would probably be the long-awaited
feature-film debut of a certain ultra-violent cat-and-mouse team from The Simpsons. But that’s not to say Ichi
the Killer (screens Saturday, August 16, at the Dryden) isn’t brutal in
its own right. Believe me, when director Takashi Miike is involved, there’s
usually more than enough violence to go around. In fact, I know a guy who got
his hands on a bootleg DVD of Killer,
and the on-screen menu alone was enough to send his wife from the room.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Consider yourself warned. Only the
sickest bastards out there are going to want to even think about seeing Killer, which is based on Hideo
Yamamoto’s comics. It’s so graphically out there, barf bags were dispensed when
the film screened at the 2001 Toronto International Film Festival as part of
the Midnight Madness program. I’m as numb as the best of them when it comes to
gore, but even I felt fortunate to have watched Killer on video, just because it allowed me the chance to pause it,
splash cold water on my face, and swallow the bile before resuming the
bloodshed.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Even compared to Miike’s other
films, Killer is still shocking (it
makes Audition seem downright
pedestrian, and that might be the most disturbing statement I’ve made in my
entire life). Body parts, including an impressive array of facial features, are
hacked off and hit the floor with the emphatic thud of a freshly cubed Wile E.
Coyote after a stunt gone wrong. Since Miike, the Japanese incarnation of Dario
Argento (with a little bit of old-school Clive Barker thrown in for good
measure), pumps out a staggering minimum of four to five films per year, you’d
think he might show signs of slowing down, or at least becoming understandably
redundant. But that doesn’t appear to be the case — at least not yet.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Killer‘s
story involves a powerful Yakuza boss who, following a scene involving the rape
and beating of a prostitute (calling all Irreversible fans!), disappears with 100 million yen. Suspecting foul play, his henchmen
turn gangland Shinjuku upside down trying to find out what happened.
Eventually, thanks to the help of the S and M-loving club hostess Karen (Alien
Sun), the men are pointed in the direction of Ichi (Nao Omori), a troubled
young man with a dark past.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย There’s a big showdown between Ichi
and platinum-blond torturer Kakihara (Tadanobu Asano), who also happens to be a
big fan of the S and M thanks to the rather unusual relationship he had with
his now-dead boss (in one darkly funny scene, Kakihara is able to identify the
boss’ blood simply by taste). But does Kakihara intend to kill Ichi, or will he
fall in love with a potential replacement for his dearly departed boss? Odds
are you’ll be too nauseous to care. Odds are also pretty decent you’ll think Killer is either pure genius, or the
most horrifyingly repulsive picture ever made.
Sadly,Dirty
Pretty Things (opens Friday, August 15, at the Little) is not a sequel
to Peter Berg’s wickedly underrated Very
Bad Things. Instead, director Stephen Frears seems to be channeling Ken Loach
as he relates this morality tale about illegal immigrants, which somehow
becomes a psychological thriller with a smattering of urban legend. So, yeah
— it’s pretty odd. But not odd in the good way, which would make you say,
“Let’s smoke a fat one and watch Holy
Mountain.” I’m talking odd in the other way, which makes you say, “What the
hell did I just watch, and can I somehow get my money and/or time back?”
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Most of Things takes place in and around a ritzy London hotel, with a focus
on said hotel’s low-paid staff. But it’s not just a highbrow version of Maid in Manhattan, boys and girls. It’s
a Big Social Message because most of the employees are illegal immigrants who
are forced to do all manner of awful things to fly under the radar yet still
earn a buck (including — gasp! — prostitution). I’ve never been to London,
but the implication in Things is that
England’s largest city would slow to a grinding halt without these invisible
refugee scofflaws.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย “We are the people you do not see,”
says Okwe (Chiwetel Ejiofor), in a line that made me want to get up and leave
the theater. When he isn’t working as a porter at the hotel, he’s moonlighting
as a cabdriver and ad hoc doctor to his syphilitic fellow hacks. Okwe used to
be a real doctor back in Nigeria, but here in London, he’s the guy you call
when the toilet in your hotel room won’t flush. And Things is the kind of film where hotel toilets don’t flush because
they’re clogged with human hearts.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Okwe also has an unusual
relationship with a Turkish virgin named Senay (Amรฉlie‘s Audrey Tautou), who works at the hotel and a nearby
sweatshop when she isn’t biting the bishops of bosses who force her to perform
oral. Okwe and Senay secretly live together, but it’s never really clear who
they’re trying to keep the secret from. But who cares when there’re tickers in
the plumbing?
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Frears hasn’t had a hit since before
the first Gulf War, and Things is
another mediocre misstep. If it wasn’t for the strong performance from Ejiofor,
and the sideshow attraction of Tautou simultaneously attempting both her first
English-language role and a Turkish accent (an impressive feat, though it still
made me wince — and I have a Tautou shrine at home), Things would be just another unconventional romance about organ
removal.
Interested
in raw, unsanitized movie ramblings from Jon? Visit his site, Planet Sick-Boy (www.sick-boy.com),
or listen to him on WBER’s Friday Morning Show.
This article appears in Aug 13-19, 2003.
