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However, after Violent Cop, Kitano made several films that failed to live up to the same artistic standard. His second film, Boiling Point, is arguably his weakest cinematic endeavor yet. His third film, A Scene at the Sea, is a vast improvement, yet moves away from the traditional Kitano thematic material (and doesn’t feature Beat Takeshi the actor, either). It wasn’t until 1993, with the release of his film Sonatine, that Kitnano came into full bloom—and cemented his reputation as one of the most exciting filmmakers in the world in the process.

Sonatine was the quintessential Takeshi Kitano film (I say ‘was’, because it would later be bumped aside by his follow-up, Fireworks (aka Hana-bi)—a perfect melding of his penchant for stories involving conflicted cops/yakuza gangsters caught in situations that eventually wind up beyond their control and his stoic, almost samurai-like Japanese demeanor. You don’t so much watch a Takeshi Kitano film as you experience it. Forgive me if that sounds like film snobbery—it’s not, and any fan of Kitano’s work would be likely to tell you the same thing.

At it’s core, Sonatine is essentially a fish-out-of-water tale. Kitano stars as Murakawa, a high-level Yakuza (Japanese gangster) with his own turf. Murakawa and his men are asked by the Yakuza boss to mediate a dispute between rival gangs in Okinawa. Murakawa accepts, despite being both unhappy that he has to risk his men’s life over a trivial matter, and pretty certain that the whole situation is a set-up.

His fears are confirmed first when someone blows up his headquarters, and later as a group of gunmen try to assassinate him in a local bar. Rather than risk his men’s lives, he takes them all to the coast, where they hole up in a deserted beach house while Murakawa figures out his next move.

The change in venue has a profound effect on the gangsters, and soon the hardened mobsters (including Murakawa himself) are acting like kids—cavorting in the sand, putting on little dance shows, playfully booby-trapping the beach, and having shoot-outs with roman candles. Murakawa even begins a romance with a young woman named Miyuki, who he saves from being sexually assaulted on the beach. Life is good.

But life can never remain good for too long in a Takeshi Kitano film, and things hold true to form here. A Yakuza hitman shows up, kills some men, and all hell breaks loose. This throws into motion a chain of events that can only conclude in one way.

Like most of the recent Japanese action fare, Sonatine is a movie that bears little resemblance to its Hong Kong action film counterparts. You won’t find the dazzling gunplay of John Woo’s films here, nor will you find heroes engaged in shootouts that look as if they were choreographed by dance instructors. Instead, the violence in Sonatine is a much starker, much more grounded in reality, and altogether more brutal thing than it is in the action product from America and Hong Kong. Rather than have Murakawa jump across a table with a pistol spitting hot lead from each of his clenched fists, Kitano keeps things much simpler—and much more realistic—by having Murakawa simply stand motionless firing his single pistol over and over until either he or the bad guys are dead.

This isn’t the only twist to action film convention that Sonatine offers, though. In another excellent sequence, Murakawa chats with Miyuki (who happens to have a thing for tough guys) on the beach. The exchange is perhaps the most telling thing about Murakawa in the film. The conversation goes like this:

“It’s great to not be afraid of shooting people—not being afraid of killing people means not being afraid of dying yourself, right? You’re a tough guy, I like tough guys.”

Murakawa responds “I wouldn’t carry a gun if I were tough.”

“But you can shoot fast.”

“I shoot fast because I get scared first.”

“But you’re not afraid of dying.”

“When you’re scared all of the time, you almost wish you were dead.”

How often would you see the Schwarzenegger or Stallone, or even Chow Yun-fat for that matter, make a statement like that in an action film? Here, in this one exchange, Kitano has turned the standard action film on its ear.

The gun battles aren’t the only thing filmed in a static fashion, either. Like all of Kitano’s films, Sonatine features numerous sequences that begin several seconds before the action starts, and holds for several beats after it ends. Kitano has said that this is in response to the difficulty of shooting in Tokyo, a city where everything is in constant motion. To move the camera too much is to risk having something external to the scene interfere with the sequence—it’s much better to simply leave the camera in one position and film from there.

Truthfully, the filmmaking has a distinctly Japanese (and a very Zen-like) feel to it. The long takes seem to highlight the fact life goes on relatively unchanged even after the characters move through a specific environment. Various shots of clouds, or a school of fish jumping out of the water, seem to have little to do with the narrative, but once again highlight the Zen concept of the journey—it’s the journey, not the end result, that really matters. Invariably, these distinctly Japanese rhythms and cadences are what confound American viewers weaned on quick, MTV-style edits and stories concerned solely with a climactic showdown.

The rest of the filmmaking is equally impressive. Kitano is a maestro behind the camera, a fact that he demonstrates time and time again in this film.

Color plays a vital role in the film, with Kitano’s home turf of Tokyo often portrayed in dark grays and other muted tones. The only real splashes of color in the Tokyo sequences come from the blood Murakawa spills. Once thing shift to the beach house, the color scheme, and the mood, shift dramatically (which is highlighted by a beautiful shot of the men made into silhouettes by the rising sun as they dump the body of a fallen comrade). While in Tokyo, the gangsters are grim and determined—as dark and brooding as their environment. Once they hit the beach, things become lighter and more pleasant—both in the color scheme and the character’s demeanor.

That the beach plays such a vital role in the film hints at yet another recurring idea at work in Kitano’s films. Nearly every film the director has made features at least one scene at a beach. I’m not sure what Beat’s fascination with the water or the beach is, but astute viewers will notice that he returns to the ocean and lakes time and time again.

But, enough about the direction—it’s marvelous, and if what I’ve pointed out already doesn’t convince you to see the film, then nothing else I could say is likely to sway you, either.

The acting is as good as the direction, which is quite the feat, considering how good the directorial technique is. Kitano shines as yet another stoic, conflicted man forced to make decisions he doesn’t really want to make. There’s always an air of nihilism surrounding Kitano’s characters, and Murakawa is no different. The resolution of the film, while rather downbeat, still works because it seems genuine in keeping with Murakawa’s character. That it ties into traditional Japanese sensibilities is really just icing on the cake. It’s quite a testament to the actor/director that he can make films that seem so nihilistic, yet make them come across as hopeful anyway.

Takeshi plays Murakawa a bit different from what the fans might expect. Sure, the Yakuza gangster is tough and stoic, but he’s not quite as stoic as some of the actor’s other characters (particularly Azuma from Violent Cop and Nishi from Fireworks). Murakawa actually speaks quite a bit, and takes part in the games at the beach—he’s not immune from reverting back to childhood, either, it seems, which we witness in a scene where he digs sand pit traps on the beach, then lures his men to them. In a film filled with dichotomies, it’s interesting to see that the dichotomies spread even to the characters themselves and not just the plot.

The rest of the cast is rock solid as well. Particular standouts are Takeshi film regulars Ren Osugi and Susumu Terrajima. Both actors play members of Murakawa’s organization—Ren Osugi is his lieutenant, Susumu Terrajima a lower level gangster who provides much of the comic relief. It’s always great to see these actors in Kitano’s films—each has become as familiar as the auteur himself, and each always brings an interesting depth and dimension to their roles.

Finally, regular Kitano film composer Joe Hisaishi provides yet another simplistic, yet amazing light jazz score. Hisaishi seems perfectly suited to work with Kitano as each seems to have a penchant for minimalism that allows them to make profound statements with little more than facial expressions, or in Hisaishi’s case, only a few notes of music used time and again in different situations. The music in the film fits the onscreen action perfectly, despite being vastly different from the booming soundtrack swells you’d expect to hear in an American production.

Ultimately, Sonatine is an amazing film that very few people have had the pleasure of seeing. It had a limited theatrical release in America, and did appear on VHS and laserdisc (thanks to Quentin Tarantino’s Rolling Thunder label), but has yet to crack the domestic DVD market.

While tracking down a copy can be a daunting task (particularly if you live in an area filled with little more than Blockbuster Video), I assure you the effort is worth it. With Sonatine Takeshi Kitano has proven that he’s one of the most intriguing filmmakers working today.

If you’re curious about Japanese action cinema, or are looking for a film that features both guns and philosophy, then Sonatine is a film you should see. It gets nothing less than my highest recommendation.

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link directly to this review at http://efilmcritic.com/review.php?movie=5377&reviewer=259
originally posted: 06/17/01 12:18:01
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