Flower and Snake II (2005)

The history of the Flower and Snake films can be a bit convoluted when it comes to films considered “official” adaptations or films which were simply loosely inspired by Oniroku Dan’s original S&M novel. By far the most well known and critically regarded film based on Dan’s book is the 1974 Nikkatsu version starting Naomi Tani, however the 60’s saw its fair share of “Flower and Snake” films, some of which even had  Tani and Dan’s involvement like Flower and Snake Continued: Red Torture (1968) and Flower and Snake: Rearing the Flesh (1968). Of course the 1974 film also inspired a series of follow-up’s such as Sketch of Hell (1985), White Uniform Rope Slave (1986) and Final Rope Torture (1987). Not that Takashi Ishii could ever be accused of following tradition, but it only made sense that he follow his 2004 interpretation of the novel with a sequel. Ishii’s take on the material shattered several of Japan’s taboo’s when it comes to film censorship and having a lead actress like Aya Sugimoto in such a role caused a bit of a stir but the films notoriety wasn’t for naught as its blew all other vitiations on the story out of the water. Flower and Snake II saw Ishii once again craft a film more than worthy of standing alongside the first as well as go above and beyond the expectations of its genre.

Following the death of Oikawa, a famous painter, Takayoshi Toyama, a renowned art critic and confidant of Oikawa receives a CD featuring several S&M based paintings by Oikawa never before seen by the public. Thinking the paintings would go for good prices on the black market, Toyama sends his much younger wife Shizuko (Aya Sugimoto) to Paris to commission Ryoosuke Ikegami, a young painter whom Toyama once sponsored to recreate the paintings. Ikegami agrees on the condition that Shizuko be his model. Reluctant at first, Shizuko agrees and becomes not only Ikegami’s muse but his lover as well, revealing a hidden side of herself as she becomes more acquainted with the underground world of sadomasochism.  

Flower and Snake II (Hana to hebi 2, 花と蛇２ パリ／静子) does what any proper sequel should do which is retain the spirit of the original film (even carrying over the names Toyama and Shizuko) while bringing something new to the table. While a fairly good psychological portion of the first film dealt with hidden sadomasochistic desires and the bonds of marriage, here that seems to be Ishii’s main concern as its those ideas which come to the forefront with some voyeurism thrown into the mix as well. Its a well detailed story and although some of the intricacies of the plot may take more than one viewing to fully reveal themselves, Ishii takes the film full circle with a clever and fairly twisted romantic twist. Stylistically the film differs from the first in that it feels much more rougher, featuring lots of hand held camera work, at times feeling almost Lars von Trier-esque as opposed to the refined composition of the first film. That’s not to say the film is lacking in the visual department. On the contrary, Ishii creates several (appropriately) painterly sequences, the centerpiece of the film being a jaw dropping auction scene where Sugimoto reenacts the S&M scenarios in the paintings and a fantasy sequence early in the film recalls the sadistic phantasmagoria of the first film. Sugimoto once again goes above and beyond the call of duty in terms of physical performance, throwing herself into the role with abandon proving just how admirable and dedicated a performer she is.

Naturally there was to be another sequel five years later with Flower and Snake 3 (2010) which was in turn followed by Flower and Snake: Zero (2014). Before those films however there was incredibly although not unsurprisingly an anime version entitled Flower and Snake: The Animation (2006). Unfortunately neither of the two live action films were directed by Ishii nor did any feature Sugimoto. This film also marked their last collaboration which is a shame as they made for the perfect director/muse pairing with Sugimoto willing to follow Ishii down any fetishistic rabbit role. Its funny to think that when Ishii’s first film was made Oniroku Dan was unsure about Sugimoto playing the lead due to the films content which amazingly proved to be too strong even for Dan! Sugimoto has gone on recording saying she chased the role and as long as Ishii was the director she would do anything for it. The results in both films speak for themselves. Sugimoto has had quite the interesting career from being a model, J-Pop singer, actress, and writer. Hopefully another film with Ishii will happen at some point down the road. While Flower and Snake II is a good enough film to stand on its own, when paired with Ishii’s first film, both stand as examples of what’s possible with material that has been filmed several times before with the right artist behind it.

Flower and Snake (2004)

One of the most famous, if not the most famous S&M novel in Japan, Oniroku Dan’s Flower and Snake established Dan as Japan’s number one writer of S&M based fiction and is easily ranked alongside the likes of other S&M classics such as Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Furs, Anne Desclos’ (Pauline Réage) Story of O, and Catherine Robbe-Grillet’s (Jean de Berg) The Image. There have been numerous films either based on Dan’s book or inspired by it going back to the 60’s but perhaps the most famous film version of the book was made by the Nikkatsu corporation in 1974 staring the queen of pink herself Naomi Tani. This film has widely been credited with saving Nikkatsu from bankruptcy and as a result of its success led to an entire series of sadomasochistic pink films and although Dan objected to the changes made to his story, so much so that he refused to be involved in the making of Wife to be Sacrificed (1974), he would later give Nikkatsu the rights to other stories of his. Other Flower and Snake films would follow and the novel would eventually be re-worked again in 2004 with Takashi Ishii, a true master, at the helm. Flower and Snake was somewhat of a new beginning for Ishii and would not only become a career defining film but it also broke new ground in the field of S&M films.

After having some shady past business dealings uncovered, successful business man Takayoshi Toyama finds himself in serious debt to the yakuza. Toyama is given two options, either pay the money or offer his wife Shizuko (Aya Sugimoto) a popular tango danger whom the yakuza boss is quite fond of as a form of payment. Upon discovering that the boss in question is in his 90’s, Toyama figures there’s little risk and agrees for Shizuko to be “borrowed”, however he quickly regrets his decision when Shizuko is kidnapped and finds herself the main attraction in the “coliseum”, a secret club operated by the yakuza where the rich and powerful indulge in sadomasochistic fantasies.

Reaching levels of artistry both visually and thematically that other films of this sort wouldn’t even attempt to reach with a lesser talent behind the camera, Flower and Snake (Hana to hebi, 花と蛇) easily transcends the usual “exploitation” and “pink film” genre tags that are normally attached to it, although Ishii clearly never forgets what type of genre he’s working in. Whereas past films saw Ishii dealing with the damaged psychology of his female protagonists, Flower and Snake differs in that the character of Shizuko’s mental state isn’t damaged, yet there is clearly a side of her that’s yet to come to the forefront and Ishii uses sadomasochism to explore that side of Shizuko as well as examine the state of Shizuko and Toyama’s marriage. Visually the film sees Ishii as a manga artist turned phantasmagoric painter with the elaborate S&M set pieces of the coliseum crossing over into surreal territory with the centerpiece being an astonishing montage of Sugimoto dressed in traditional geisha garb in a series of rope bondage scenarios culminating in a jaw dropping crucifixion. The element of fantasy plays a major role in the film which goes back to the psychology of Shizuko and the more the film goes on the more Ishii obscures what may or may not be reality or fantasy. Obviously Sugimoto delivers one of the most psychically demanding performances in all of film and deserves nothing but the highest amount of respect for all she goes through. Her level of commitment is astonishing and admirable.

Flower and Snake is an important film in that at the time of its release it really tested the limits of what was acceptable without having to be censored in terms of full frontal nudity which is normally blurred or pixilated but with this film all was on display. While pink films in general are normally incredibly explicit in their content, this film also seemed to take it just a bit further, a fact made even more surprising by the film being released by a major studio and playing in mainstream cinemas. The celebrity status of Aya Sugimoto also played a big part in the films notoriety. On a humorous front, even Oniroku Dan was shocked by what he saw in the film! During a question and answer session before a screening of film Dan recalled when he first visited the set and was surprised that the first thing he saw was Sugimoto tied to a post, and that after the press conference he would leave before the film started which resulted in quite a bit of laughter from both Ishii and Sugimoto. Out of all the adaptations of Dan’s novel, Ishii’s film stands out for a variety of reasons, whether it be Ishii’s brilliant direction or Sugimoto’s fearless performance. It might be as niche as niche can be, but for those that belong to that niche, Flower and Snake is a masterpiece.

Freeze Me (2000)

AKA Freezer

By their very design rape/revenge films are bound to be divisive no matter the original intention of the filmmaker. Its always fascinating and at times maddening to hear debates on the artistic merits, or lack thereof according to the subgenre’s detractors of films like Thriller: A Cruel Picture (1973), I Spit on Your Grave (1978) and Ms. 45 (1981) just to name three of the most famous examples. More often than not the arguments for and against these type of films return to the same talking points. Defenders of the subgenre say the films are empowering to victimized women and hail the directors as feminist friendly while the opposition claims the films are misogynistic and the (primarily) male directors depiction of rape glamorizes the act. In many ways Takashi Ishii is the perfect director for the subgenre. Rape has always been a prominent theme in Ishii’s work going all the way back to his Angel Guts manga series and the films made from said manga and a good many of Ishii’s films inspire the exact same debates as rape/revenge films with many praising Ishii as a feminist filmmaker and others dismissing his work as merely sexist exploitation. Freeze Me, Ishii’s first “semi-traditional” rape/revenge film proved not only to be just as polarizing but also easily one of Ishii’s best films and one of the most confrontational films the rape/revenge subgenre has to offer.

Five years before moving to Tokyo to start a new life, young Chihiro was gang raped by a group of childhood friends who also videotape the incident. Fast forward five years and Chihiro is accosted by one of her former assailants in her apartment building. It turns out one member of the group that raped Chihiro has just gotten released from prison and as a celebration the rest of the gang has tracked Chihiro down and made plans to meet up and relive the assault. Pushed too far, Chihiro eventually snaps and begins to murder her attackers as they arrive, in the process discovering just how handy industrial sized freezers can be.

For a rape/revenge film, Freeze Me (Furîzu mî, フリーズ・ミー) is slyly unconventional in that despite following the familiar trajectory of the subgenre, that being victimized woman has enough and exacts righteous revenge on her wrong doers, with this being an Ishii film its agenda is far greater. At its core, Freeze Me is a vicious attack on the social stigma faced by victims of rape and abuse, also touching upon the typical societal view of women and while Ishii’s main target is Japanese society, the theme is universal. Its fairly obvious that Chihiro’s main concern is victim blaming and the damage that can be done to her reputation because of it and because of this some of the directions the film takes will no doubt frustrate many, particularly Chihiro’s motivations behind her actions. Chihiro is a fascinatingly contradictory character in that in the more emboldened she becomes in her self-defense the more her mental state deteriorates and the keeping of the bodies of her rapists in freezers goes against her trying to escape her past. Its these contradictions that really make the point Ishii is trying to make about victim shaming heard all the more louder and clearer and psychologically places the film at the same level as Ms. 45. Ishii balances the gritty story with instances of high style, wisely waiting until the films closing moments to really let loose with the chromatic neon visuals, the effects of which are brilliant and makes the ending of the film all the more powerful.

Again, reaction to Freeze Me was and still is divided every which way with some reviews being insightful and thought provoking to others being mind-numbingly moronic. Among the more interesting is film writer/programmer Kier-La Janisse’s take on the film in her excellent House of Psychotic Women: An Autobiographical Topography of Female Neurosis in Horror and Exploitation Films where Janisse cites frustration at Chihiro’s thought process and specifically mentions the freezing of the bodies. In a phenomenal piece for Senses of Cinema, James R. Alexander contextualizes the film along with a detailed history of the rape/revenge film along with a thorough exploration of the depiction of rape in Japanese exploitation (“pink”) films. Of course there are also the reviews which on one hand should be called out for their idiocy but on the other really don’t deserve the attention. A constant source of amazement however is seeing how many reviewers throw out the word “misogyny” without having the slightest clue as to what the dictionary definition of the word is. Interpretation of a film is one thing and with films like these there’s always going to be differences of opinion but blatant ignorance is another thing entirely. Freeze Me is not a misogynistic film. Although difficult, challenging and unflinching it also happens to be one of the most intelligent rape/revenge films making it an essential film from the subgenre and an essential Ishii title.    

Angel Guts: Red Vertigo (1988)

AKA Red Dizziness

With Jess Franco gone its safe to assume that Takashi Ishii is the most “free” filmmaker still working today. With the possible exception of Lars von Trier, its hard to think of another director making films with the type of complete artistic freedom that Ishii has, particularly for the past ten years. Of course this type of freedom can sometimes come at the expense of an audience and Ishii’s more recent output has divided viewers with many dismissing it as being over indulgent, obsessive and fetishistic yet its exactly those things that make Ishii one of the most exciting and consistently audacious filmmakers with films like Flower and Snake (2004), its 2005 sequel, The Brutal Hopelessness of Love (2007) and Sweet Whip (2013) just to name a few. Had Ishii never directed a film his reputation would still be firmly in place as the man behind the Angel Guts manga series which would be turned into one of the most well known and financially lucrative Japanese exploitation, or “pink film” (“Pinku eiga”) series with most films featuring the “Angel Guts” moniker being made for the legendary Nikkatsu studio. Ishii wrote the films from stories based on his manga and eventually made his directorial debut with the fifth film in the series, Red Vertigo, easily the best in the series and a knockout debut which would only be a sign of things to come.

While working the night shift, nurse Nami is assaulted by two patients who attempt to rape her. In a state of shock, she rushes home only to find her photographer boyfriend cheating on her with one of his models. Even more distressed than before, Nami takes off on her bike but is struck accidentally by Muraki, a disgraced former stock broker with several people after him for stealing a large amount of cliental money from his firm. Nami comes too, only to find Muraki molesting her. After explaining his situation to Nami, and eventually hers to him, the two bond over their shared desperation and a bizarre romance begins to form between the two.

What’s bound to surprise many about Angel Guts: Red Vertigo (Tenshi no Harawata: Akai Memai, 天使のはらわた 赤い眩暈) is Ishii’s approach and handling of the material. While the films instances of sexual violence are undeniably harsh as is the case with most pink films, those looking for a total sleaze fest will be sorely disappointed. Although the mere suggestion is enough to disgust most, the fact is that Red Vertigo is ultimately a love story about the preverbal “lost souls” beaten down by life who seem to find some solace in each others misery. What’s interesting is that Ishii’s doesn’t seem so much interested in answering the question of why Nami would want to begin a relationship with Muraki but rather exploring the slow development of the relationship which raises several possibilities as to what Nami’s reasoning is. Muraki’s mentality is equally ambiguous in the sense that its unclear if his constant apologies to Nami for his actions are legitimate but its also apparent that he’s in desperate need of a companion. What’s really incredible are the moments of sensitivity Ishii peppers amongst all the ugliness and despite how hard to take the directions taken by the narrative might be, there’s no question that Ishii is on Nami’s side. With this being his first film, Ishii lets known what will become his visual calling cards right off the bat with brilliant neon lighting, surrounding his characters with constant rainfall and a dose of surreality by way of a random dream sequence early on.

Its been mentioned many times before but Ishii’s original intensions when he began writing and drawing the Angel Guts series bears repeating. Numerous viewers have written the series off as being nothing more than sexist rape fantasies which is clearly painting with a broad brush. Ishii intended the series as a tribute to victimized women with the “Guts” in the series namesake referring to courage. According to Ishii, prior to his manga women were depicted as nothing but sex objects with no characterization. Ishii’s creation of Nami (the name of the female protagonists in all the comics and films) was in direct opposition to that in an attempt to write and draw a female character rooted in reality. A lot of the negative criticism directed towards the series, and Ishii’s films in general for that matter has primarily come from western critics while in Japan Ishii is celebrated by some as a feminist director which speaks to the differences in eastern and western views in regards to topics like the depictions of sexism and rape in the media. Red Vertigo was one hell of a way to make an entrance as a director, essentially establishing every narrative and visual motif Ishii would continue exploring and continues to explore to this day. Unquestionably one of the most important pink films from possibly the most important pink series and the debut of a true maverick.  

The Isle (2000)

The late ‘90’s/early 2000’s saw a worldwide surge of trangressive and boundary pushing cinema not seen since the ’70’s. American filmmakers like Larry Clark were causing a stir at festivals worldwide with films like Bully (2001) and Ken Park (2002), the later even found itself banned outright in Australia. France of course had the so called “new French extremity” movement with films like Baise-moi (2000) and filmmakers like Catherine Breillat beautifully blurring the lines between art and pornography, a tradition also practiced by Denmark’s Lars von Trier. Perhaps at the forefront of the new millenniums newfound interest in “extreme” cinema was Asia. Japan would be an obvious point of reference with directors like Takashi Miike taking on screen violence to the next level in a film like Ichi the Killer (2001) as well as shattering every social taboo imaginable with Visitor Q (2001) along with Takashi Ishii testing the limits of Japanese censorship with Flower and Snake (2004). Not wanting to be left out, South Korea also had it band of cinematic trouble makers, the leader of which is unquestionably Kim Ki-duk. Kim had three films under his belt before helming 2000’s The Isle, a film which earned a reputation fairly quickly due to reports of some festival audiences either fainting or vomiting. Understandable, but just like Miike, Kim offers so much more than just shallow shocks and The Isle proves just that.  

On the run after shooting his lover after finding her with another man, Hyun-Shik (Yoosuk Kim) arrives at a remote fishing retreat of sorts to hide out. The island is run by the mute Hee-Jin (Jung Suh) who makes her living selling supplies and occasionally herself to the fishermen who rent the floating cabins on the isle. Hee-Jin takes a liking to Hyun-Shik and the two bond out of their lineless and desperation which slowly develops into a mutually masochistic romance.  

Although Kim would keep expanding upon his fascination with the extreme behavior the ideas of love and relationships can lead to with films like Bad Guy (2001), Time (2006) and Moebius (2013), The Isle (Seom, 섬) is perhaps the ultimate Kim film in that Kim finds a perfect balance between the quiet meditation his films are known for and shrieking grotesqueness. This is a film of incredibly lyrical beauty by way of Kim’s eye for amazing scenery and the brilliant cinematography that comes with it as well as the films haunting score. The moments of tenderness between Hyun-Shik and Hee-Jin are legitimately touching and never once cross over into mawkish territory thanks to the go for broke performance of Jung Suh and Yoosuk Kim and its precisely that which make the films instances of brutality all the more jarring. When the “real world” interferes with the self-contained isolated universe Hee-Jin and Hyun-Shik have created for themselves, the only reaction they know is violence, either self-inflicted or to each other (and often involving the use of fish hooks). Dialogue is used only when absolutely necessary and the silence makes the development of the films central relationship all the more fascinating, particularly when various side elements Kim has added throughout the film eventually connect with the main love story. While Kim takes the film into surreal territory for the closing moments leaving things on an ambiguous note, what is clear is that for better or worse, Hee-Jin and Hyun-Shik are indeed perfect for each other.

Although Kim’s films have usually faired better internationally than in his home country, some even winning major festival awards, The Isle did run into some issues particularly in England where the BBFC delayed its release on account of the films instances of animal violence, mainly against fish. On that front Kim took the Ruggero Deodato defense saying "We cooked all the fish we used in the film and ate them, expressing our appreciation.” Unsurprisingly some also took issue with the films violence sometimes crossing over into sexual territory, but it would be another one of Kim’s films, Bad Guy that really infuriated critics and not just feminists who dismissed the film and Kim as misogynist. Kim is still causing trouble today with his 2013 film Moebius causing perhaps his most major controversy yet in South Korea, so much so that the film was essentially banned until Kim was forced to make 21 cuts in order to secure domestic distribution. With the state of cinema as it is today, it’s a blessing that there are filmmakers like Kim still making films that not simply irritate the hyper moralists but are also daring and challenging in their originality. The Isle makes for a perfect introduction to Kim’s world. In pure Kim fashion its a film that is both contemplative and at times confrontational and still has the power to stun 15 after its initial release.

Gozu (2003)

AKA Gokudô kyôfu dai-gekijô: Gozu (極道恐怖大劇場 牛頭, Yakuza Horror Theatre: Gozu)

Along with being exhaustingly prolific, one of the things that makes Takashi Miike such an exciting discovery for film fans is his versatility and the unpredictability that comes with it. Despite helming several films a year and covering every genre imaginable, Miike still manages to leave a signature, oftentimes insane stamp on every single film no matter how different it is to the one that came before it. To give a good example of this, 2001 alone saw the release of films like Visitor Q, Ichi the Killer and The Happiness of the Katakuris. Quite the range. There’s also not many directors who would even think of approaching yakuza crime films like Fudoh: The New Generation (1996), The City of Lost Souls (2000) or the Dead or Alive trilogy (1999-2002) the way Miike does. This diversity is ever present in Miike’s horror films be it Audition (1999), The Happiness of the Katakuris (that is if the film is even classifiable at all in terms of genre), One Missed Call (2003), Imprint (2006) and most recently Over Your Dead Body (2014). Then there’s Gozu. Made the same year as One Missed Call which again is a perfect example of just how varied Miike is while working in the same genre, Gozu is one of Miike’s most abstract films along with being one of his best and like most everything in Miike’s oeuvre, mind-bogglingly original.

Low ranking yakuza Minami is given the job of killing Ozaki, one of his superiors in fear of Ozaki’s mental instability being detrimental for business. Minami isn’t exactly up to the task though as Ozaki is very much a mentor to Minami and the two share a deep bond. A mishap on the road however leads to Ozaki being inadvertently mortally wounded, although after Minami makes a pit stop to clear his thoughts Ozaki’s body mysteriously disappears from Minami’s car. Completely baffled, Minami sets out on the increasingly surreal journey to find Ozaki encountering one strange character and situation after another while also uncovering some truths about himself along the way.

Given the material, its inevitable that Gozu (literally “Cow head”) would be compared to the works of the David’s Lynch and Cronenberg and Miike himself acknowledges those comparisons. There are indeed moments where Gozu resembles films like Lynch’s Lost Highway (1997) and Cronenberg’s Naked Lunch (1991) however ultimately the brand of surrealism on display in Gozu is quintessentially Miike. Here Miike takes the slow burn approach ala Audition and fuses it with yakuza elements along with the absurdity of The Happiness of the Katakuris sans the musical numbers. Some of the situations Minami finds himself in are so over the top in their bizarreness that the film crosses over into comedic territory while still being unsettling due to their sheer oddness. And odd is it ever. Men with half the pigment in their face missing, a deranged brother and lactating sister inn keeping team, the titular cow headed demon, these are the types that inhabit the world of Gozu, not to mention a climatic scene which will give even the most jaded viewers something they’ve never seen before. Like Lynch, Miike often gets accused of weirdness for weirdness sake by those who can’t see past the abstractions and there’s much more to Gozu than a bunch of random strangeness, although it is the bewildering nature of the film that makes Minami’s search for Ozaki all the more engaging and the flashbacks of Minami and Ozaki also make the film a non too subtle exploration of Minami coming to grips with his own sexuality.

Originally Gozu was never intended to play in theatres as it was designed a “V-Cinema” direct to video/DVD project in Japan. Thankfully that didn’t happen as although the film did end up going direct to video in Japan, the film ended up playing at the Director’s Fortnight in Cannes and it wound up playing other festivals as well such as the Toronto International Film Festival and South By Southwest. The film actually did have a theatrical run in the US as well. Perhaps nowadays direct to video films aren’t looked down upon as much as they may have been in the past with the numerous changes in the film industry but in Japan V-Cinema hasn’t really had the stigma attached to it as it has in other countries, although Miike claims (perhaps jokingly) in an interview on Cinema Epoch’s 2-disc special edition DVD of Gozu that his video productions are usually seen only by young kids in the Japanese countryside. Thankfully that wasn’t the case with Gozu otherwise they’re be a good chance of it never leaving Japan. As is the case with the majority of Miike’s genre efforts, Gozu may only appeal to a select audience and it may even be a bit much to take for some Miike fans which is saying something but it’s a testament to one of the most consistently interesting and creative cinematic minds still working today.

Imprint (2006)

When attempting to discuss a film with a large reputation there’s always the conundrum of not regurgitating what’s already been said numerous times before ad nauseam. This is especially true of films who’s reputation resulted out of a controversy. Controversial films and films that have been dubbed “shocking” or disturbing” are interesting in that there’s always the chance of a film relying on nothing but shock value and as a result are rather hollow. Then there are the films which push boundaries, break social taboos and are truly transgressive that clearly have something to say with an intelligence behind them. Films like Borowczyk’s The Beast (1975), Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust (1980) and Cronenberg’s Crash (1996) immediately spring to mind. At this point the fate of Takashi Miike’s Imprint is near legendary. Originally intended to be the season one finale of Showtime’s Masters of Horror anthology series, the film was immediately banned from broadcast in the US. Due to the banning, Imprint became instantly notorious with many impatiently for the DVD release and wondering just how graphic the film really was and if it would live up to the hype. Miike proved once again to be one of the most fascinating and radical contemporary filmmakers with Imprint, one of the most unflinching and original horror films in recent memory, and a film which is so much more than simply shock value for shock value’s sake.

In 19th centaury Japan, Christopher (Billy Drago) an American journalist returns in search of his lost love, a prostitute named Komomo whom he once promised to take back to America with him one day. Upon arriving on a strange island, Christopher sees no sign of Komomo but is offered a variety of prostitutes to spend the night with. He chooses a nameless, disfigured woman (Yûki Kudô) who claims to have known Komomo. Christopher demands to know the truth about what happened to his love, although when the woman begins relating the fate of Komomo along with her own personal history, perhaps Christopher begins to regret ever coming back in the first place.

At heart, Imprint is a morose fable based on the idea of the extremities that love can lead some too, even willingly go insane, clearly a favorite theme of Miike’s. Miike does something interesting by telling the story in a sort of episodic nature where truth and lies become entwined and amazingly the film covers quite a bit of emotional ground despite its brief 63 minute running time so the effect is definitely akin to being hit by a bus once its over. That feeling is also aided immensely by Miike’s matter of fact presentation of what has made the film so notorious in the form of torture, aborted fetuses and a climatic reveal that even by Miike standards is completely mental and comes out of left field. Imprint is also a curious film in that despite taking place in the 19th centaury Miike’s astounding visual design incorporates influences from a variety of eras making it seems as if the film is existing outside of time. Also the fact that aside from the American Drago and Kudô who speaks perfect English, the rest of the Japanese cast are speaking phonetic English which oftentimes sounds incredibly “off” yet adds to the already odd tone of the film and the idea of the film taking place in some surreal netherworld. It also has to be pointed out that Drago turns overacting into an art but considering that most everything in this world Miike creates is exaggerated to a certin degree Drago’s histrionics make perfect sense.

Setting aside for a second the fact that Showtime is a premium pay cable channel that is supposed to air films completely uncut and uncensored, one of the most surprising things about their banning of Imprint is that they were apparently so surprised by its graphic content. By the time it was supposed to air Miike already had a sizable reputation for not just pushing the envelope but setting fire to it with films like Ichi the Killer (2001) and Visitor Q (2001) just to name two already under his belt so it seems hard to believe that someone over at Showtime wouldn’t be aware of the type of filmmaker Miike was. Believe it or not Miike wasn’t the only filmmaker who had censorship imposed on their work with Dario Argento being forced to make cuts to his first Masters of Horror episode Jenifer (2005). Imprint did however air overseas uncut with no issues. The banning of Imprint will ultimately be the first thing most will think about whenever the film is mentioned which is fair as it stands as an example of absurd censorship although its unfortunate that most reviews of the film chose to focus solely on its more sensational content making the film seem shallow which it most certainly is not. Far from just an empty collection of shock scenes, Imprint is a legitimate modern masterpiece from a true maverick.