Curse of the Undead: Yoma (1998)

“In the age of wars, innocent civilians’ blood sank into the earth.”  Ninja Hikage (Kenyu Horiuchi) and Marou (Kaneto Shiozawa) stand on a desolate battlefield as men strip the arrows from the scattered corpses.  Marou has a bit of an episode and runs off after smooshing the sodden ground between his fingers.  Shortly thereafter, the leader of their clan is murdered, and Hikage is dispatched to track down Marou, who may or may not have had something to do with it.  Meanwhile, all manner of demons (read: yoma) are appearing, feasting on human beings and trying to take over the world.  More or less.

Takashi Anno’s Curse of the Undead: Yoma (aka Blood Reign: Curse of the Yoma) is a two episode OVA (Original Video Animation) based on a manga by Kei Kusunoki (presented outwardly as one film for its video release [at least in America], though it’s really just the two programs [including opening and closing credits] shown back to back, but since I watched it, I’m counting it as one).  Consequently, I would bet my bottom dollar that this anime is a massive abbreviation of the original story (one of the things I always found fascinating about adaptations of manga, one of the most decompressed storytelling styles in the world, is whether they leave out large chunks of the story [usually things like exposition] or if they just go off in a direction inspired by the original; for example, Osamu Tezuka’s Akira manga is over two thousand pages long, while the anime is a little over two hours, but it’s still a superlative adaptation [it doesn’t hurt any that the original artist was also the film’s director]; I’m hard-pressed to say which version I prefer).  Marou is introduced with nary a word spoken, and from the way he acts at the opening, we might be led to think that he’s the protagonist.  Instead, he’s the villain, but even this isn’t made clear until much further down the road, even though it’s not treated like a big reveal.  We’re given glimpses of Marou and Hikage playing as children, but it’s always the same scene, and nothing of any consequence happens in it to either move the story forward or provide any insight.  This is especially confounding, because this scene is in heavy rotation in the film.  The anime leaps forward in chunks of time (hours, days, years), occasionally making light attempts at some sort of characterization, very little of which has any tangible impact.

The film is ostensibly about the bonds of friendship and how they are torn asunder.  Nevertheless, the relationship between Hikage and Marou has no substance to it; only hints at subtext.  As a result, it makes it difficult to invest any sort of emotion in the proceedings.  It doesn’t really help any that these two characters never have any meaty interactions after the chase is on, so outside of the constant flashbacks to the pair as kids, the only sense of weight in regards to their friendship comes in the form of Hikage’s obsession with finding Marou.  He is single-minded to the point of disobeying his boss, in fact.  Simultaneously, the relationship between Hikage and Aya (played by Hiromi Tsuru and Mina Tomunaga) is meant to bestow some alternative to the platonic love between Hikage and Marou.  I should state here (and you may have picked up the hint from the actor credits) that Aya is, technically, two characters.  The first is a simple villager with a death wish.  The second is a fellow (novice) ninja who follows along on Hikage’s journey (perhaps a death wish of another kind).  Both love Hikage in an immediate sense that never rang true for me, but when time is of the essence, best to cut to the chase, as it were.  Hikage is injured from an earlier fight with his friend, causing him to wear a bandage over his right eye for part of the story.  Likewise, the first Aya’s face is disfigured on the left side.  There is a circularity to this visual distinction that I quite like, but I won’t get into details for fear of spoiling anything.  The point is, everyone in the film is damaged (including Marou) by the war-ravaged world they inhabit, and the struggle to connect with another person is, not only the most important thing in their lives, but also the most damning.  That’s not to say there isn’t a kind of happy ending to the story, but it is more a silver cloud with a grey lining than the opposite.

This anime, to absolutely no one’s surprise, is loaded with elements of body horror.  Corpses are found disemboweled.  Throats are slit with a gush of arterial spray that would make Tomisaburo Wakayama green with envy.  Innards are shredded via oral application of Hikage’s nifty, Wolverine-esque claw gauntlet.  Yoma erupt through the flesh of their human forms to showcase the corrupt monstrosities hidden within.  And this is, pardon the pun, the real meat of the film.  The Japanese absolutely love showcasing grotesque, slimy, hirsute things tearing through and transmogrifying humanity down to its core, and this speaks of a commentary (intentional or not) on the perverting of human beings by the world they inhabit (which, by extension, we read as our world).  Very rarely are the protagonists in horror anime left unscathed by this condition, and Curse of the Undead: Yoma is no exception.  Here the criticism is on war and what it does to both the participants and the bystanders.  The war between humans becomes a war with yoma.  Still, the humans continue their own conflicts, even drawing the yoma into it directly, further degrading situations and characters already at base levels.  This theme is certainly nothing new in anime (or film in general), but it neither adds to nor detracts from this particular narrative.

Ultimately, and despite my criticisms, I found myself enjoying Curse of the Undead: Yoma.  It moves along at a nice enough clip, the creature designs are interesting if somewhat uninspired, and there’s action enough to spice up the basic story the filmmakers seem to go to great lengths to ignore.  This wouldn’t be a very good introduction to anime for some people, because it does have some of the more impenetrable anime elements non-Japanese viewers may find a bit too demanding.  That said, I found myself going with the flow, and the runtime passed by breezily.  I can think of worse ways to curse a film than damning it with faint praise (see what I did there?).

MVT:  There is a foreboding atmosphere at work in the film that maintains interest through the audience’s curiosity as to who will fall the hardest and how far they will drop?

Make or Break:  When the first big boss monster shows up and tells Hikage what the plot is (which is just as subject to change as a pair of socks), you’ll know whether the trip has been worth it for you or not.

Score: 6.5/10     

Six-String Samurai (1998)

Today, I would like to go the (more than usually) circuitous route to my introduction by lauding the work of writer Norman Partridge.  His writing is often compared with that of Joe R. Lansdale, and there are similarities to be found between the two, but Partridge’s work is a little leaner, meaner, and maybe even a little more ensconced in the realm of drive-in/exploitation fare (both authors excel at the Southern-fried, homespun, matter-of-fact aesthetic popular in such television series as Justified and the like, just to give you some idea).  I first came across Partridge in the pages of Cemetery Dance magazine with a story titled Bucket of Blood, a simple tale of two buddies, one bad decision, and the titular slot machine.  Since then, I’ve sought out everything I could from the man.  His stories can be as stripped down and straight ahead as ’59 Frankenstein, as emotionally gut-punching as The Man with the Barbed-Wire Fists, or as ethereally abstruse (but no less satisfying) as Incarnadine, yet there is a beating, bleeding heart at the core of every word the man types.  His novel Slippin’ Into Darkness is one of the best haunting (notice, I didn’t say “ghost”) stories I’ve ever read.  It eats at me that the man isn’t more well-known or recognized than he is, and I’ve been known to yammer on about his work to anyone who will listen (and even to those who won’t; maybe moreso).  

In 2000, Partridge wrote The Crow: Wicked Prayer, and it has all the elements that he typically brings to the table.  That said, it is, in my opinion, the least of his works (and, all things considered, that’s still pretty impressive), possibly from being constrained by the franchise owners or by some editorial mandate (this is the way it plays out in my mind, at any rate).  The novel was adapted to film in 2005, and though I can’t recall having seen it, my recollection is it is considered by many to be the least of that series.  The film was directed by Lance Mungia, whose feature directorial debut was, of course, Six-String Samurai.  What does one have to do with the other?  I have no idea.  The point of this prolix prologue (and believe me, I can bloviate further) is this: go read some Norman Partridge.  You won’t be disappointed (I mean, as long as you don’t start with the Crow book; you can check that out after you’ve experienced a fuller flavor of the man’s rich bibliography).

In 1957, the Russkies dropped The Big One on America and took over.  Las Vegas has been redubbed Lost Vegas (personally, I like referring to it as Lost Wages, but that’s just me), and Elvis has ruled there as King for years.  But now the King is dead, and Lost Vegas needs some new royalty.  Rockers from all over (including the embodiment of Death itself [Stephane Gauger]) begin to converge on the city and duel it out along the way with weapons both bladed and stringed.  Eponymous Ronin Buddy (Jeffrey Falcon) knows he’s meant to be the new King, and, together with The Kid (Justin McGuire), he slouches towards the proverbial Bethlehem, his hour come round at last (apologies to Yeats).

So, let’s tackle the obvious.  Six-String Samurai considers the Samurai genre of film from a unique, fresh perspective, though it retains the swordplay rather than relying strictly on its musical wakizashi to settle violent disputes.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that the usage of instruments in the film is little more than a stylistic flourish, since so negligible is the focus on it.  One would expect Buddy (referring, I do believe, to Buddy Holly) to meet up with various other rockers of the 50s and defeat them with his superior musical skills.  Yet, the only representative foe he encounters is a young Richie Valens stand-in (Pedro Pano), and even he is brought low by Buddy’s sword, not his guitar.  Other enemies include gangs like The Pin Pals (a bowling league gang), The Red Elvises (an actual band who also provide the film’s soundtrack), and a group of post-apocalyptic Cavemen who catapult gumballs (yes, really) and LPs at our protagonists during a chase scene so slow it makes the steamroller scene in Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery look like Bullitt.  

That the film doesn’t feature musicians as antagonists more than it does is a testament to its disjointedness in the sense that it wants to be multi-generic to the point of collapse.  So, for as much as Six-String Samurai owes a debt to films like the Lone Wolf and Cub series (The Kid is given a line to cross over which he will have to put away his childish things in order to walk Buddy’s path), it owes an equal (or even greater) amount to the Western and the Spaghetti Western genres (particularly those starring Clint Eastwood, whom Falcon appears to be channeling), the Post-Apocalyptic genre (leaning more toward the Italian end of the spectrum for its more outré facets, though there’s also a heavy influence from The Warriors in the character of the narrating DJ and the various, colorful cliques), and even The Wizard of Oz and the filmography of Terry Gilliam.  

The notion of legacies is heavy in the film, as well.  First and foremost is the fact that Elvis (that wellspring from which so much rock ‘n roll sprang [and, yes, I get that Elvis had his share of influences going back decades further]) needs to be replaced as King.  His legacy is the music that guys like Buddy live by and the civilization that it supported.  As might be expected, The Kid then molds himself in the image of Buddy, preparing to inherit his mantle when the time comes (most tellingly displayed in the scene where The Kid mimics Buddy’s Tai Chi routine), to carry on the legacy handed down from Elvis to Buddy and so on.  The Kid doesn’t speak when he initially meets Buddy, yelling to get attention, creating a reverberating echo whenever he does it, indicative of the future power of The Kid’s voice (and the idea that the student often surpasses the master’s level, given time). The central conflict between Death and Buddy is about the legacy of rock being attacked by the malevolence of heavy metal (Death looks a lot like Slash from Guns ‘N Roses), which I found a bit odd, because I would have thought that the antithesis of Rock would have likely been something more along the lines of Techno or Disco or Polka, but Metal makes for more interesting visual characteristics (this is, of course, arguable).    

Thrown into this cinematic casserole is a simultaneous love for and satire of Fifties American society.  For as much time is spent reveling in the pop culture of that time (discussing whether a 1957 Chevy or a Plymouth is the better car, why a 1957 hollow body guitar is the way to go, the film’s setup itself, et cetera), we get things like the Cleavers (get it?), a nuclear (get it?) family that’s as apple pie and suburban as they come on the surface but who harbor some dark intentions underneath (go ahead and guess what their secret is; I’ll wait).  The Cleavers are so arch, so self-consciously a send up of the superficial attitudes of Fifties pop culture, they draw far too much attention to themselves, smacking the viewer over the head with “The Point” rather than simply stating it.  This is reinforced by the visual aesthetic of the film, which employs extreme wide angle lenses, high and low angle compositions, and handheld shots that zoom in on knowingly gauche faces pointedly gurning all over the place.

With that in mind, the film is distinctly good-looking much of the time, making fantastic use of both the locations and Kristian Bernier’s cinematographic skills.  My problem is that it becomes schizophrenic, slamming from studied composition to music video mugging in the space of less than a heartbeat.  I can understand why this approach was taken: the POV of a world gone off-kilter, emphasizing the outlandish characters who have risen up from the ashes of the nuclear holocaust but are still frozen in time.  And I think I could have forgiven this if the film’s tone wasn’t just as muddled.  Buddy and The Kid play (almost) straight men to the wacky antics of the world around them, though occasionally they ape it up, too.  Worse, in my opinion, is Death and his henchmen (why they didn’t have four of them like the Horsemen is beyond me), who look marvelously diabolical.  Nevertheless, they pass comments in ways meant to be funny but fall flat instead, reducing the characters as effective heavies.  To wit: Death admonishes a gang for not killing Buddy and stops mid-sentence to admire their flashy shoes.  Later, one of the henchmen states, “The boy makes him very uncool,” in reference to Buddy and The Kid’s relationship.  While things like this are specific and intentional for the film’s approach, it comes off a bit too “try hard” for my taste (I suppose you could view it through the prism of films like A Hard Day’s Night or Head, but I feel the narrative is much too linear for that).  I’ll gladly sing the praises of Six-String Samurai from both a visual and an ambition perspective.  But the tone just doesn’t work for me on this one.

MVT:  I’m going to have to give it to the visual style of the film.

Make or Break:  The film’s opening/title sequence is truly some great filmmaking and a nice introduction to the story and its main characters, equally evoking so many samurai duels in tall grass and homesteaders gunned down in cold blood while giving us its own spin on these tropes.

Score: 6.5/10   

New Rose Hotel (1998)

Directed by: Abel Ferrara
Run time: 93 minutes

When I saw this movie in high school I was rather disappointed. I liked Johnny Mnemonic and when I found out this movie I had to watch it as well. Being a teenager and insufferable ass I found this movie boring. My thoughts at the time was that it need an 80's stereotypical covered in chrome stomping on some suit while in car chase with gun fire. I don't think my teenage self was wrong but I'm older and I have read most of what William Gibson written.  So a re watching was in order and it proved that my teenaged self was an idiot. 

The story is about two mega corporations, two experts in corporate extraction, a girl, and bio engineering rock star.  Hiroshi is a bio engineer character has the ability to walk into a lab and turn out numerous multimillion dollar patients. This makes his mega corporation Maas a lot of money and gives character anything he wants.  However this is not making him happy and he is looking for greener pastures.

This is where Fox (Christopher Walken) and X (Willem Dafoe) come in. They are freelance corporate extraction experts and they are more than willing to help character get out of Maas' grasp and working their rival Hosaka. In order to get close to Hiroshi they need an intermediary who can sell him on finding happiness with Hosaka. Luckily for X and Fox they found the perfect agent for this in Sandii (Asia Argento). So Fox and X train her to seduce Hiroshi so she can convince him to leave his wife and Maas. During Sandii's training Fox falls for her and slowly the simple extraction plan gets complicated

Time passes and Hiroshi follows Sandii from Maas to Hosaka. Fox and X help set up a lab on Hosaka's behalf for Hiroshi in Marrakesh. Fox and Sandii make plans to give up life as corporate pawns and get married. X learns that Marrakesh is being coming the site for an impromptu convention for  Hosaka's top scientists. This leads to Fox and X being distracted by their divergent interests. That is when the complication from earlier happens it forces everyone to deal with the fallout.







This movie is a rather faithful adaptation of the William Gibson short story with the same name. It gets the feel of Gibson's writing and presents the story in the same quick pace that his short stories take. The leads are great in both performance and casting. That being said, the run time being padded with cuts from unsteady surveillance camera footage really took me out of the film. Also there are long scenes of dialog that make the film seem to drag. I get the scenes in question are there to develop the characters and to cut down on cost but it would have been nice if they shorten those scenes and shown more of the world or shown more.

Overall my younger self needed a punch to the head, this is a solid cyberpunk film, and a good Gibson adaption. This is a must watch if you are a hardcore cyberpunk fan and or William Gibson fan.

Make or Break: The unsteady surveillance camera footage did a hell of a job of jarring me out of the film. I get it was made in the 90's but less would have been better.

MVT: This film shows smart phones years before they were a thing.

Score: 5.9 out of 10