Sun Scarred (2006)

The Japanese have always been filmmakers who've had their cake and eaten it, too. While Japanese genre and sex films have understandably gained an international reputation for transgressive extremities, the strong handling of drama many Japanese films are known for is ever present in sometimes even the most outlandish Japanese genre work. The entire filmography of Takashi Ishii springs to mind, with Ishii delivering the expected pink film exploitation while also making devastating psychological drama's with films like The Brutal Hopelessness of Love (2007), A Night in Nude: Salvation (2010) and Sweet Whip (2013). One of world cinema's greatest chameleons, Takashi Miike has also long balanced the profane and profound. One scene in Audition (1999) may have had international festival goers screaming for the aisles, but the film as a whole is tragic and heartfelt. Heartfelt may also be an appropriate description, much to the disgust of others, for Visitor Q (2001), with the core of the film always being a fractured family, the hilariously wrong ending scene is damn near sentimental. Miike has never been one to stick to one formula and sometimes his approach to certain material can be rather surprising. With Miike's keen dramatic sense, a revenge film would be a perfect fit which ultimately proved to be true with Sun Scarred, Miike's take on a classic revenge scenario, an affecting film in ways that will catch many off guard.

On his way home from work for his birthday with his wife and daughter, the mild mannered Katayama stumbles upon a gang of young teens viciously beating a homeless man. Katayama stopps the kids, but ends up putting a good beating on Komiki, the leader of the gang, who days later lures Katayama's young daughter away from her mother and murders her. Komiki is later caught and sent to juvenile prison, but Katayama's life is forever altered, his wife soon committing suicide unable to deal with the grief. Three years later, Katayama learns of Komiki's release on account of good behavior. Enraged, Katayama confronts the “reformed” Komiki who reveals himself to have not changed at all and has assembled a gang of armed kids online to take Katayama out, leading Katayama to right the wrong done to him the law ignored.

Although the premise of Sun Scarred (Taiyo no kizu, 太陽の傷) is reminiscent of Death Wish (1974), Katayama even having the same architect job as Charles Bronson's Paul Kersey, anyone going into the film expecting a montage of Katayama taking to the streets shooting random juvenile delinquents is bound to be disappointed. Much like Audition, Miike prefers a slow burn approach, and in fact the idea of “revenge” doesn't really become a main concern until a bit later in the film. Following the killing of Katayama's daughter, much of the film is spent portraying the void left in Katayama's life, which Miike interestingly presents by switching from color to black and white for a time, as well as Katayama's building frustration with the legal system, particularly the way violent young offenders not of age to be tried as adults are treated. Age is also a core question of the film and Miike does seem to be asking some tough questions of the Japanese legal system. When the revenge angle does fully kick-in, there is very little gray area left as it relates to the age gap, at least where Komiki is concerned, Katayama's quest being fully justified by that point. Miike does however portray some of the young teens coerced online by Kamimi as in over their heads. At the same time, like most films with vengeance at their core, Miike asks the all important question of whether or not the brutality Katayama has been pushed to was worth it.

The film could also be seen as a none-too-subtle jab at the media, in particular the habit of news anchors sensationally editorializing while also omitting certain facts surrounding the case. There are several moments in the film where media talking heads essentially blame Katayama for the whole ordeal due to his beating on the teens. The film is, it should be noted, rooted in fact as it relates to the Japanese legal system and the way it handles juvenile offenders. In Japan, any boy under the age of 15 is considered a “shonen” and there are even multiple types of “shonen” offenders cataloged by Japanese juvenile courts. There has been controversy over the way juveniles are handled in Japan and there have been several debates as to whether the age at which a defendant is to be considered a juvenile or adult should be raised. It was an especially hot topic in the late 90's going into the 2000's, so the subject matter was still fresh in the minds of many in Japan when Miike presented Sun Scarred. Thanks to his versatility and exhaustive output, Miike has become synonymous with many things but Sun Scarred highlights a key strength, that being Miike's mastering of harrowing, emotional drama while also providing quality genre thrills. Sun Scarred is subdued when compared to his Miike's more infamous titles, but the lasting memory is just as vivid.

El mirón (1977)

The cliché of “better late than never” certainly applies when it comes to José Ramón Larraz. Although Vampyres (1974) has long been a favorite among fans of European horror, it's only been in more recent years that other crucial Larraz titles like Whirlpool (1970), Symptoms (1974) and The Coming of Sin (1978) have made their way to home video with presentations they'd long been deserving of. It's also worth noting that Larraz didn't enter the realm of filmmaking until he was in his 40's, having previously been a fashion photographer and comic book artist and writer. He wasted no time however diving headfirst into the horror and thriller genres with the aforementioned Whirlpool, Symptoms and Vampyres along with films like Deviation (1971) and Scream and Die (1973) which established Larraz as unequaled in terms of conjuring atmosphere out of location shooting and delivering visceral sexuality and violence. Spending the majority of his early directorial career in the UK, Larraz returned to his home country of Spain in the mid-70's when censorship became more laxed and proved himself to be a versatile talent behind the camera. While his Spanish period contains a handful of horror films like Stigma (1980) and the infamous Satanic sex horror of Black Candles (1982), Larraz also found himself at the helm of a few sex comedies and drama's, El mirón being a standout example of Larraz's more dramatic side.

Roman and Elena (Alexandra Bastedo) find themselves at a crossroads in their marriage stemming from Roman's fetish of watching his wife with other men. Despite trying to fulfill her husbands fantasies, even going so far as agreeing to let Roman bring strangers home, Elena can never fully go through with sleeping with any of them, much to Roman's frustration. With the rift in their marriage growing wider, the two become more withdrawn from each other with further complications arising when Elena becomes friendly with a young neighbor.

Feeling and looking very much like a soap opera, El mirón (The Voyeur) is certainly one of Larraz's most subdued films, surprisingly so given the subject matter and director, yet Larraz's approach still manages to retain certain traits that gives Larraz's work its own identity. The idea of a marriage in dire straits must have been on Larraz's mind a lot around the time as he would follow El mirón with La ocasión (1978), another film with an indifferent married couple at the center of it. The biggest difference between the two being La ocasión gradually becoming a thriller in the vein of Deviation, whereas the even more interior El mirón is more focused on the dissolving marriage itself. Despite its lack of genre thrills, the film is nonetheless filled with an uncomfortable tension, with Larraz starting the film with Roman's fantasy having long been established making nearly every scene between Roman and Elena distant and awkward. The presence of Roman's near-death mother living in the same apartment further adds to an already combustible domestic situation, a key element in so much of Larraz's work. An especially fascinating aspect of the film is Roman's curious mentality behind his fetish, especially as it relates to Elena's acquaintanceship with the young neighbor leading to questions of jealousy and more importantly, control. Larraz does give a bit of an opening for Roman and Elena to reconcile their differences, though at the same time Larraz, rather affectingly, concludes the film on a bit of an ambiguous downer.

El mirón was the first Larraz film to feature Alexandra Bastedo, though the former Champions actress was no stranger to to world of Euro horror from which Larraz came. One of Bastedo's finest roles was that of Mircalla Karstein in Vicente Aranda's adaptation of Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla, The Blood Splattered Bride (1972). Bastedo also appeared alongside Peter Cushing in Freddie Francis' The Ghoul (1975). Following El mirón, Bastedo would again work with Larraz on Stigma which was another in a series of Spanish films Bastedo appeared in throughout the mid-to-late 70's. Larraz seemed to be comfortable in the world of the domestic drama around the same time period with El fin de la inocencia (1977) and Luto riguroso (1977) preceding El mirón the same year. Larraz would then focus mostly on comedies like ...And Give Us Our Daily Sex (1979) and The National Mummy (1981) before making a return to horror in the late 80's with the trio of Rest in Pieces (1987), Edge of the Axe (1988) and Deadly Manor (1990). This middle Spanish period of Larraz's career remains the most underexplored. Save for The Coming of Sin and possibly La ocasión, the films lack the genre credentials that would make them marketable which is an unfortunate reality of economics as the films offer a slightly different side of Larraz while still making sense within the context of his other films.