Review of Sonatine (1993) by Ryan H — 05 Jan 2010

An absolute blast to watch. Easily one of the freshest yakuza films I have ever seen. Sonatine is a film which expresses two contradictory moods. One an ecosystem of beauty, hope, and life. The other one consists of chilling death, hopelessness, and desolation. There is a great amount of maturity on display here, which way too many gangster movies lack. A minimalist structure and story, while at the same time being extraordinary deep and meditative. Wonderfully photographed and edited. An existential yakuza picture that is also tons of fun. A story filled with moments of pure joy and humor as well as absolute nihilism. A study of the contrasts inside the entirety of mankind. We who are capable of punctuating our lives with laughter and gentleness, while being consumed by a total and all-consuming hateful destructiveness.

Kitano plays a stoic, mid-level yakuza boss from Tokyo named Murakawa, who is fed up with life. You can see it in his eyes. His stare is that of a broken man with nothing at all to lose. By just simply looking at him, you see a man who is tired and numbingly depressed. His rigid, violent existence has taken its toll. So much so that he doesn't seem to care about much anymore. Not even his successful and lucrative turf seems to interest him anymore. While torturing a mahjong parlor owner who owes him money, he leaves the man submerged in water for too long drowning him. This wasn't the goal, but he seems unconcerned. Obviously, this mistake doesn't really matter, but even if somehow it did, his concern would be just as nonexistent. Eventually, his boss sends him to Okinawa with some men to quell an impending clan war, which turns out to be quite insubstantial. Something doesn't feel right about the job, and when he gets there that feeling only intensifies. It feels like forced exile. Soon enough, he is forced to go into hiding after nearly being gunned down by a gang of hoods (a hit obviously ordered by his boss). Once the survivors reach a beach-front safe house, a recess of childhood-like fun and games begins. A fireworks battle on the beaches of Okinawa, various juvenile pranks, Japanese dancing, and a goofy simulation of sumo rituals are among the activities he and his associates partake in to combat their boredom. A temporary rebirth for them.

This repression of their violent selves most certainly represents an infantile, almost virginal self that exists in most of us, even if it also happens to be clouded over by a much more dominant amorality and savage nihilism. Their aforementioned childhood-like natures come out of long-term hibernation, while their darker selves retreat ever so slightly. And even though years of living in a dire, hopeless environment has transported these men into a typhoons of dehumanizing criminality, they can indeed display shreds of humanity. We actually start to guardedly care about this small band of criminal outcasts in spite of their savagery. However, this interlude is not without its jabs of brutality. A nameless assassin executes one of Murakawa's men. Murakawa himself kills an aspiring rapist on the beach, and afterwards forms a bond with the female victim who puts a little life back in him. A bond that must and will go nowhere as the ending displays.

So, let me snuff out any hope that my rant may have given you. There will never be a possibility of purification in this world. Murakawa isn't looking to purge himself of some vague, societal construct such as evil. Or some other ill-defined piece of bullshit. That does not concern him. Murakawa is not a redemptive figure, but a vengeful and death-obsessed one. Vengeful towards the bosses who set him down a path to an assassin's bullet. Oh my, and revenge he takes. He achieves vengeance with a cacophony of assault rifle fire directed into a room full of top brass yakuza, including the pig of a boss who set him up. A one man death squad. Afterwards, the death march begins and he knows exactly what awaits him. No regrets or apologies. No hope, but for brief respites of pseudo-happiness. Too many emotional scars. He knows exactly what he must do and it is all he has ever wanted to do. Go out on his own terms. Not how the greedy vampires of power fancy it. Murakawa-san. A man scared to death of the life he has chosen. And scared men know what to do. The independence of death. Any thoughts of hesitation are meaningless and deceptive. After all, there is only one escape, which in itself is inescapable. He stares straight ahead without words or emotions. Fear has all but disappeared. He had accepted this conclusion to his life a long time ago. Now all there is to do is set it in motion. Action. Piece in hand, movement of the arm into the kill position, the soothing touch of cold steel, trigger pulled without faltering, the slug traveling its deadly path, arrival, orgasm of brain gore, painless ignorance, death, and finally peace. Done in one. No more restlessness or fear. No more walking through life as if already dead. The never-ending cycle of violence finally extinguished. For others, hapless bastards that they are, it is just another day as a dark horizon looms ahead. After all, there is always more meat willing to feed the killing pits. And the pits are fucking starving.