Sukiyaki Western Django

At first there were American Westerns. Then there were Spaghetti Westerns (Westerns made in Italy). And now, choosing an equally stereotypical genre name, there are Sushi Westerns.

Takashi Miike's Sukiyaki Western Django is the Sushi Western. The plot of the movie is that there are two rival clans, the Red and the White, battling for control of a town and the hidden treasure the town supposedly contains. In enters a stranger, a Man With No Name, if you will, offering his services as a sharp shooter and treasure seeker to which ever side will reward him more handsomely.

This stranger, however, is not really the main story line of the film. The main story line, of which there are a few, and the most interesting one in my opinion, is that of a woman from the White clan who had married and had a child with a Red clan member. For the betrayal to the clan, the leader of the Reds took out the husband, with his wife and son present to witness it, and the wife consequently returns to the White clan in a plot to exact her revenge. When all-out war erupts between the two sides, the wife, her son and the husband's mother try to flee the town but are dragged into the battle at a dire price.

Solid performances are all around in the film, but especially but the main characters of this particular story line. There is such pain and hardship suffered by the mother and son that it's almost impossible not to root for them, and they're probably the only characters in the film worth rooting for. The other characters in the film are pretty cool and badass, but the mother and son are truly sympathetic, and I only wish there had been more of them in the film.

Considering that the film features Quentin Tarantino as a bit player, who is also a friend of Miike's, it's no surprise that the film takes influences from so many diverse places and piles them together. Japanese influences, such as samurai films like those of the great Akira Kurosawa, and Japanese anime, are spliced together with the Western influences, especially the Spaghetti Western stylization of battle scenes and tense gun duels.

Even the language reflects the internationality of the film. It's a film with a Japanese director and writers, and aside from Tarantino the entire cast is Japanese, yet the film is made in English. Miike had directed the Masters of Horror episode "Imprint" in English, so he's familiar with directing in English. But, in that film, there was an American character, so there's a reason for it being spoken in English, and the strange accents added to the uneasiness of "Imprint," it being a horror movie after all. Here, that effect is not achieved; the film isn't really meant to make you uneasy. Instead you just wonder if the actors really knew what their dialogue meant or whether they were just taught how to pronounce the lines, particularly when they used Western jargon like "a day late and a dollar short." That doesn't mean that they're performances suffered--Ron Perlman did the same thing when he spoke French in The City of Lost Children and he was just fine in that film. But the language does add an awkwardness to the film that probably wouldn't have been there if it were made in Japanese.

The film is undeniably exciting and lavish. The art direction is superb; the mixing of the American West and Medieval Japan costumes was done very well, and the sets, from the painting of Mount Fuji in Tarantino's flashbacks to the ending showdown in the falling snow, were simply beautiful. Not to mention how simply cool the dramatized gun slinging and epic battle scenes were. Gatling guns, dynamite, and sword fights. Oh my!

Tarantino's films, that also take influences from everywhere and combine them, always seem to add to a nugget of intelligence, a philosophical idea that grounds the film and explains the characterization. It's why I have a great respect for his films. This one, however, doesn't seem to find that theme quite as well. There are messages toward the end of "shit happens," of living life without fear and dealing with whatever life throws at you. These are cool ideas that wrap up the movie nicely, but I wouldn't say they carry the film or press the action the same way the ideas in Kill Bill (or a similarly strong film) do.

Despite the film's lack of a strong philosophy, the film is still definitely worth seeing. The action sequences are epic, the costume design is really cool, and the film is just inherently watchable. As long as you don't expect a deep, moving film, the spectacle is a lot of fun.

Dead Man

    "You William Blake?"
    "Yes, I am. D'you know my poetry?"

Jim Jarmusch's Dead Man is a wonderful film about an accountant, played by Johnny Depp, who, after traveling cross country only to realize the job promised him is no longer there, embarks on a strange, meandering trek through the Old West with an outcast Native American, along the way murdering several people and discovering his spirit.

The films takes the best parts of the Western genre--the gun fights, the rugged freedom of the open wild--and adds into the mix a gothic, almost impressionistic style somewhat similar to Tim Burton's early films, or David Lynch's Eraserhead. One wouldn't think that a Western film would be well-suited by a gothic temperament, but Jarmusch makes it work impeccably.

The first technique Jarmusch uses to blend these genres is the photography. It's shot in shadowy black and white, and is at times even reminiscent of a 1930s horror flick, e.g. Dracula. But, that aesthetic is kept in balance with the beautiful landscapes of the Old West, and all the classic iconography of that time period--trains, six-shooters, saloons--and this balance allows both genres to shine through.

Also the music is excellent in supplying the mixed feel to the movie. Imagine a theme song reminiscent of Sergio Leone's "Man with No Name" films, but infused with an industrial-rock guitar riff and Native American-style drums. This type of soundtrack is again in keeping with both styles, and, much like Leone's The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, the music crescendos and absolutely captivates as the film reaches its climax.

 

This mixing of these two distinct styles brings a strange mood to the film. The gothic aspects of it bring somewhat of a sarcastic feel to the slow and subdued nature of the Western genre. The more "badass" moments of the film, like the quote given at the opening of this review, which Johnny Depp delivers before shooting two U.S. Marshals, are highlighted and stand out even more when they're delivered in contrast to the gothic palate. Both genres bring a new feel to the other, and they work together in a beautifully symbiotic relationship that's a lot of fun to watch.

Johnny Depp delivers a very good performance in the role of William Blake. Through the first fifteen minutes of the film I was afraid that I would be dealing with another spineless wimp like the one I dissected in my review of Brazil. But William Blake, from the instance of shooting Charlie Dickinson without hesitation, shows hints of an impetuousness, and a willingness to shoot back at his would-be assassins, that makes him a dynamic character. This is shown through the changes in Depp's wardrobe over the course of the film. He starts out in his "goddamn clown suit," as his perspective boss calls it, then he loses his jacket, giving him the look of a more rugged outlaw, then later he dons a majestic fur coat as he begins to come to terms with his spirituality, his connection with nature, and his fate.

The film is called "Dead Man," and Nobody, Blake's Indian side-kick, often speaks to Blake as if he were dead. So the question is: Is William Blake really dead. I'd say the answer is yes, but in the philosophical and spiritual sense. William Blake, to me, represents man's departure from a connection with Mother Earth, to which every other character in the film still doubtlessly clings. Blake is a quiet, unassuming accountant from Cleveland, but once he returns to the wild, he's drawn back into the world of Cowboys and Indians, of hunter and game, of cops and outlaws, of a respect for and a communion with all Nature has to offer. This is shown by everyone's asking of Blake if he has any tobacco, a symbol of Nature's attempt to help man connect with her, to which he constantly replies, "I don't smoke." As Nobody returns Blake to the realm of the spirits, he places an amount of tobacco in the canoe with him as he sends him off to where his spirit belongs.

A wonderful film full of beautiful photography and a wonderful cast, with supporting players from John Hurt to Robert Mitchum to Billy Bob Thornton to Iggy Pop to Lance Henriksen to Crispin Glover, Dead Man is a film not to be missed.