Somehow, the Q Filmcast guys sort of challenged me to watch, Ichi the Killer. Michael tweeted to me, “Have you seen ICHI? You may need some help sorting this one out Frank.” And followed it up with, “Yes, just to hear you attempt to make sense of it would be marvelous.” Now, I was deceived, but it was my own fault. The Japanese word “ichi” just means the number “one.” I have known that since middle school, but it didn’t occur to me until later. So it should be no surprise that there are a few films with “ichi” in the title, to say nothing of “zatoichi.” I saw a brief summary of the 2008 film, Ichi, about a blind woman who is a great sword fighter. It’s based upon the Kan Shimozawa Zatoichi novel series. Alas no.

When I searched for “ichi” on Netflix, I saw the image on the left. I immediately thought, “Oh my; this will not be fun.” Released in 2001, it has all the markings of a Japanese The Marix. I mean this in more ways than you might think because in a very basic way, the film is just torture porn. Most of the main characters in the film seem only able to experience sexual pleasure through violence and pain. But otherwise, I see a lot of the Wachowskis here. The film is divorced from reality in a similar way and is entirely dependent upon dialog to explain what’s actually going on: two defining characteristics of the Wachowskis’ masterpiece. The film is also intensely dependent upon pointless but often stunning special editing effects. And for all I know, it is the Wachowskis who were stealing from director Takashi Miike and not the other way around.

I can see why Michael would imply that the film doesn’t make much sense, because it doesn’t. The narrative shifts back and forth in time — sometimes in ways that are clearly meant to be vexing. The plot is really simple: Jijii is one of the Yakuza outcasts who has decided, for whatever reason to pit the rival gangs against each other. To do this, he has programmed Ichi into a killing machine using hypnosis, phone calls, and a whole lot of plot vagueness. But basically, this is all accomplished about 45 minutes into the film. The rest of the film centers on Kakihara, a sadomasochist who eagerly awaits Ichi’s coming because everyone has disappointed his masochistic side since his boss was killed (at the beginning by Ichi).

It is possible that I don’t exactly get the ending. But for some reason, Jijii programs Ichi to think that one of Kakihara’s thugs (who had in fact once been very kind of Ichi) is his long lost brother. This results in Ichi not killing Kakihara, who instead kills himself. This seems to bother Jijii. Who knows? Maybe Ichi was supposed to kill Kakihara and then the thug would kill Ichi and Jijii would rule the underworld. I don’t really know. The film also has a tag where Jijii is shown dead, most likely killed by the son of thug who Ichi once helped. Is that meaningful? I have no idea.

No, it’s not meaningful. Takashi Miike directs feature length films faster than anyone I’ve ever heard of. I’ve know some silent film directors who were pumping out films faster, but they were short — not two hours long. I think the film is what it appears to be: torture porn. From the filmmakers’ perspective, it is a very thin excuse to do various things with special effects makeup and gore. There is no hidden meaning. There is just two hours of the same kind of stuff. It’s very stylized, often beautiful to look at. The violence is disturbing for that first 45 minutes and then it just becomes funny. And that appears to be how it is intended. It is very much like watching a juggling act. But is there any juggler you’ve ever wanted to watch for over two hours?

One thing that surprises me is that the film is somewhat notorious for its violence. I will admit that there is a lot of it in the film, but it is straight out of comic books. (Not surprisingly, it is based upon manga series.) Ichi cuts his first on screen victim straight down the middle from top to bottom so finely that you can’t even tell he’s been cut until the pieces start coming apart. This gimmick is used over and over in the film, just like the other major gimmick: piercing torture. I didn’t feel any of it worked especially well. Give me Tom Savini any day.

The only thing that really bothers me about the film is that I don’t think that Miike realizes just what a silly film he has made. But it is the silliness of the film that saves it. Because if it weren’t for the excessive repetition of the same disgusting gimmicks throughout the film, audiences would know right away that the plot makes little sense. Major subplots disappear without a thought in the world. In fact, the script shows every sign of being two different films just jammed together. This is a film made by people who are far more interested in their effects than they are the story. It is, in other words, a fetish film.

Does the film work on it’s own terms? Kind of. It isn’t very creative. Some of the acting is downright bad, although the three leads are all quite good. The rest of it is professionally produced, I suppose. The lighting was very often compromised to the makeup effects. And there seemed to be little art direction generally — most scenes were just really boring apartments where all the filmmakers thought was necessary was the collection of needles pushed through the current victim’s face. But in the end, if I want to watch a silly movie filled with gratuitous gore, I’ll watch Dead Alive again. At least that film is in on the joke. I don’t really think that Ichi the Killer is in on its own joke.

In 1992, I went to the Cinema 21 in Portland, Oregon to see Casablanca. It was the 50th anniversary release of the film and the place was packed. I had never seen the film in the theater, so that was very nice. But I remember walking out afterwards, and hearing a guy say, “I never knew it was such a funny film.” That really annoyed me. Most people really do need a bunch of other people around to know that something is funny. It was written by the Epstein twins—some of the best comedy writers of the time. And it is filled with great one liners like when asked what kind of man Captain Renault is, Rick answers, “Oh, he’s just like any other man, only more so.” But I should have been more forgiving; after all, there is that oh very serious ending where Rick says, “Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you’re not with him, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.” And I think that’s the problem, because that isn’t a very serious ending.

This afternoon, I watched the film again. I watch it a lot when I don’t want to think. It’s like candy. But this time, I realized something about it: it isn’t like a Snickers bar; it’s like cotton candy—there’s really nothing to it. Now, this isn’t exactly a sudden realization to me. On director Michael Curtiz’s birthday, I wrote:

I added that it was still one of my favorite films. I think I may have crossed some kind of line with it. Because this time it really bugged me. Let me go over a few things.

The flashback scene, which was written by Howard Koch, is really almost unwatchable. It was a mistake regardless. The film could have provided all that information via dialog in the present. It’s almost nine minutes to tell us two things: Rick and Ilsa were lovers in France (which we already knew) and Ilsa stood him up when they were supposed to leave together. It’s lazy writing too. And then the follow-up just makes it worse. Ilsa finds Rick drunk out of his mind, and he is mean to her and bitter. So she spends the next half hour of the film angry at him, when we finally learn what happened. That wouldn’t be so bad if 25 minutes earlier Rick hadn’t apologized and asked her to explain. Rick comes off pretty well in all this, but Ilsa comes off alternatively as spiteful and juvenile. Feminists should hate this film.

Speaking of feminists, are we really supposed to like Renault? Here is the most corrupt man in the world who is a Nazi collaborator. He blackmails pretty young women into having sex with him in exchange for allowing them to get out of the country. And his turn into a good guy suddenly at the end is not convincing. But the worst of it is how Rick plays him to allow Laszlo to escape. Rick’s plan is so pathetic, a child could see through it. And then in the end, by letting Rick go, you know someone else will just get set up for the crime.

I don’t think so. Rick is supposed to be the most noble character in the film, yet he makes all his money swindling desperate people who are fleeing the Nazis. When he quits the business, he sells it to an even more unethical person. He shows a very slight regard to Ugarte when he learns about his impending arrest, but that’s about as far as his care goes for anyone else. He seems to ship Ilsa away with Laszlo more to stick it to Major Strasser than anything (and maybe as a form of suicide). He claims that Sam is his friend but he abandons him.

Other than Rick’s staff—who all seem more like his slaves—there really are no characters to like in the film. And the only acting done in the film is by Peter Lorre as Ugarte. I have always felt that the film took a great hit after Ugarte left—there isn’t much vitality. And his capture always seemed to be a bit too pat, “But we know already who the murderer is.” Please! What’s more, Ugarte is the only major character who is honest. At least he isn’t conning people with a rigged roulette wheel. The only bad things he does is steal from and kill Nazis. In the context of the film, that makes him a good guy.

Other than Lorre, the acting consists of a lot of mugging and thoughtful poses. And that, I think, is what most bothered me watching it this time. Everyone just seems to be waiting around for that moment in the film when whatever is supposed to happen happens. It’s no surprise that the film has never been successfully redone (as remake or just by trying to do the same kind of thing, like Passage to Marseille). It only works because we all agree that we want it to work. It is like watching a play at Boy Scout camp. All our friends are in it, it has some laughs, and it seems like it is about something.

Certainly Casablanca manages those first two, but the last? No. And I think the whole thing being a metaphor for America’s entry into World War II is really pushing it. As I discussed with Ken Burns’ Cold War The War, the idea is a bit pumped up. But regardless, it wasn’t the United States joining up with France. At least we do have some Russian characters in the film, most notably the charming Sascha who seems to be in love with all women. But other than the ugly tourists, there are no English characters in the film at all. What’s that all about?

Don’t get me wrong. Casablanca is a nice and fun film. But it is no more serious than The Incredibles. It should never be held up as a great film. But there is a long history of people holding up what are nothing but passable entertainments as great movie making. Another is The Graduate. And I say that while proudly proclaiming that It Happened One Night and His Girl Friday are great films. But a film just can’t be great when it tries to be serious (And even important!) but is just silly.

I have long believed that Kenneth Branagh is the greatest Shakespearean actor ever. Of course, he has all the actors that came before him to build upon. But he is so much better than the generation that came before, that it is hard to escape the conclusion that he really does bring something special—something more than just refinement.

Last night, while writing Benghazi! Preview, I came upon a filmed performance of Branagh doing the “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” speech from Macbeth. This is one of the speeches of Shakespeare that I’ve memorized. And I’ve always found it difficult. Unlike the opening to Richard III that I completely understand and feel that I have the emotional flow, I feel this speech is all over the place. The way it is normally performed is emotionally dead. Macbeth understands that the end has come and he is ruefully reflecting on the nature of existence.

There are two difficult lines. The first is, “Out, out, brief candle!” He’s talking about the death of his wife. Ian McKellen says the line with a kind of mocking bitterness. Patrick Stewart does it sadly, which is what seems the most obvious way to do it. Alan Cumming does it with much more emotion than either of those actors, and that line seems to be spoken directly to lady Macbeth. Sean Connery manages much the same thing, but the emotional content bounces around like a pinball.

The second difficult line is, “Signifying nothing.” Both McKellen and Stewart provide very long pauses between these words. I understand this. It is tempting to wait as though Macbeth is thinking about what life can possibly mean only to conclude, “Nothing.” But it always sounds fake to me. Macbeth knows where his sentence is leading to. Maybe it is something about Scottish actors, but both Cumming and Connery come right out with it.

With all due respect to all of those actors (and I’m very fond of Stewart’s and Cumming’s performances), Branagh’s performance is on a different level. He starts stoically. And he runs through the lines very rapidly. I’ve always thought these lines should be read without pause and this is exactly what he does:

But then he starts to lose it on “lighted” in “And all our yesterdays have lighted fools / The way to dusty death.” So by the end of the line he is crying. Thus, the first troublesome line—”Out, out, brief candle!”—is wailed.

He then regains his composure, but just barely. He’s trying to be philosophical. But he again starts to cry on the line, “It is a tale told by an idiot.” And then, he is a complete mess. I’m not sure the text is intelligible if you don’t know it. But by the time he gets to our second troublesome line—”Signifying nothing.”—there is a very good reason for a long pause. He isn’t looking for the word; he just can’t get it out.

Here is the video. It is a thing to behold. But before you start it, turn your volume all the way up because the sound is recorded really low.

[Update: as usual, the original was forced to be taken down; so here is a video of a video hopefully will stay up. -FM]

It is rare that I see Kenneth Branagh do some Shakespeare without thinking, “Oh! That’s how it should be done!” This is how the “Tomorrow” speech should be done.

Afterword

I’m not that fond of his Hamlet. But I think it is exactly right. Hamlet is a very unlikable character. And speaking of unlikable characters, I still haven’t been able to see him as Iago in Othello.

I’ve been revisiting one of my favorite television shows from my youth: The Rockford Files. It is really nice when childhood obsessions turn out to be as good as you remember and that is definitely true of this show. In fact, it is a lot more complex than I was aware of at the time. Some things that were just distractions in my youth resonate very much. Like Rockford’s often questionable finances. Look where he lives: in a trailer on a beach parking lot. That’s where a surf bum would live. Yet I find it all incredibly believable. And it would be more so today.

Another aspect of the show that I appreciate much more now is Rockford’s prison friend Angel. Just like with the White Russian Marya in Hogan’s Heroes, I now think he is one of the best things about the show. Angel’s combination of cowardice and untrustworthiness not only make him an excellent element to spice up or propel plots, but he’s also really likable despite himself. The fact that his machinations always backfire makes him ultimately harmless. And since he is so predictable, Rockford can often use him to good ends despite Angel’s intentions.

But the biggest thing that I appreciate now is the portrayal of old people in the show. At the time, I remember a lot of groups that represented the elderly had nothing but praise for the show—especially concerning the portrayal of Rockford’s father, Rocky. I never especially got that. I saw that Rocky was a well developed and positive character, but I didn’t especially see how it was different from other shows. Now it’s clear. But I largely think it is incidental. The writers of the show (some of the best television writer ever) worked hard to create real characters, and Rocky just happens to be one of them.

After a while, though, I think the producers decided to go with it. In the fourth season, they produced an episode that dealt extensively with the issue of the value of the elderly in society, “The Attractive Nuisance.” Written by series co-creator Stephen J Cannell, the story revolves around a diner for truckers that Rocky has opened up with a new friend, Vince Whitehead. But it turns out that Vince is actually a small time mob boss, Vince Cappobianco, who is kind of undercover. Meanwhile, there is retired FBI agent Eddie LaSalle, who is trying to bring down Vince. And in the end, with Rockford’s help he does.

It isn’t a great episode, but the ending was amazing. Rockford’s difficult life continues on, but then it shows the three older men in succession. Eddie is in what looks like the FBI lunch room, with a bunch of young agents hanging on his every word while he explains how he brought Vince down. Vince is in prison talking to equally eager young inmates about how to launder money. And Rocky is at a truck stop explaining to some young truckers how to avoid brake problems. It was very sweet, especially coming from Cannell who was only 36 when he wrote it.

Is that kind of preachy? Yes it is. That’s something else I notice now that I missed when I was younger. The show is often a bit preachy. But it is usually for a good cause. And sometimes it is prescient. The last episode of that season was “The House on Willis Avenue,” which deals with private companies setting up a system of data collection about private citizens. Today, the overwhelming response to this information is, “So? I have nothing to hide!” But in 1978, The Rockford Files was sounding the alarm. It really was one of the greatest television dramas ever, and it is still relevant.

Update (1 May 2014 8:25 pm)

For the record, when I talked about the great writing, I wasn’t talking about Stephen J Cannell. The real gem of the show was Juanita Bartlett. Cannell’s plots tend to be a bit weak and his dialog could use work. Not that he’s bad.

On Tuesday, I went to see Sabotage with my brother. Now I’m used to seeing pretty bad films with my brother. The truth is, my brother has no taste. I’m not being cute here. I mean literally that he has no taste. He’ll watch anything. So Arnold Schwarzenegger was in this film and away we went! But it was even worse than I had expected. It is very possibly the worst film that I’ve ever seen.

The basic setup is not too bad. Schwarzenegger heads a crack undercover DEA team that supposedly infiltrates drug rings and then takes them down. There is very little infiltration and lots of taking down, but whatever. This team, however, decides to steal part of the money they recover. But before they can retrieve the money, it is stolen by someone else. The rest of the film, in as much as it has a discernible plot, involves the various recriminations.

That’s all fine, I suppose; it could have been a typically bad action film but nothing too traumatic. But the story bounces all around. First there is the investigation by the DEA who think that the gang stole the money because they just happen to know exactly how much drug money there was because of “a concurrent investigation.” And then, after this six month period of time, the gang gets back together because the DEA doesn’t manage to break them. That’s when they start being murdered one at a time. And that’s when the foul mouthed female homicide detective shows up. The script plays around with making her important but can never really decide and finally just abandons her. And it only gets worse. Plus it is sandwiched inside of a most pathetic plot about Schwarzenegger’s family being tortured to death by some drug dealers.

None of this is made any better by the fact that the crack undercover DEA team looks like each member went to Dog the Bounty Hunter for fashion advice. I don’t know what’s gotten into Hollywood recently, but these guys do not look tough; they look like shower rape victims in a bad prison movie. The only one of them who really looked tough was Mireille Enos as the junkie DEA agent Lizzy. This does, I suppose, make the Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry style ending of the film ever so slightly less ridiculous. But it all does depend upon you believing that international drug lords are a bunch of puffs.

I find it constantly amazing that films about evil drug dealers portray the supposed good guys as doing nothing but drinking to excess. This movie does not only show this but very clearly shows that all the members of the gang commonly drive while plastered far past the legal limit. But as usual in these kinds of films, characters are not “good” because of their actions but rather definitionally. They are good because we say they are good. This causes the unfortunate situation where the “bad” guys are the only ones in these films who have actual motivations. But in Sabotage there is no problem because they aren’t given any motivation either.

I’m a keen observer of films. But in this one, I really couldn’t say what had happened. No film plot is without some holes, but this one was nothing but. For example, Schwarzenegger’s character allows all of his friends and many other innocent people to die in the name of getting revenge for the murder of his wife and son. But he was in a position to trade his wife and son for himself and he did not. Of the people killing the team members, one has an incredibly stupid reason and the other has no reason at all. A better name for the film would have been “Vengeance,” because according to the characters, nothing else matters besides getting revenge for wrongs done you, regardless of whether the revenge actually harms the right people.

Some people have remarked that Schwarzenegger’s acting was especially good. I thought just the opposite. Since the character is supposed to be more of a regular guy (although still a “legend” because he apparently can’t play anything else), Schwarzenegger did have to act. And it was pathetic. There was nothing subtle in the performance. He felt sad so he put his face in his hands. Mostly though, he smoked a lot of cigars. We know how much he likes cigars, so I assume his only stipulation on the film was that it dictate he smoke a lot of cigars. If that’s what qualifies as good acting, we are all doomed.

On the plus side, the film is such a mess that there are no real thematic problems with it. But that’s just because the film doesn’t focus on anything long enough to have an opinion about it. I’m sure that underneath it all is respect for the red, white, and blue and for powerful men abusing their power. There was one especially troublesome scene. The DEA team was at a strip club. The guys got out of hand and the bouncer tried to stop them. He got badly beaten as a result. Again: I guess we were just supposed to root for the “good” guys. What I thought was that the bouncer was just doing his job and the DEA guys were assholes. And that about sums up what I think of the filmmakers: witless, artless assholes.