13 Assassins

Director: Takashi Miike

Starring: Kôji Yakusho, Gorô Inagaki

Run time: 141 minutes

Rating: ***

To glance back over Takashi Miike’s career in film is to subject oneself to some of the strangest, most disturbing scenes in cinema history. From fully grown humans giving birth to, well… fully grown humans (Gozu), to sliced off faces (Ichi the Killer), to catatonic lactating women (Visitor Q), one might wonder, after having directed over 70 productions, whether Miike’s well of perverse possibilities might be running dry.

13 Assassins sees the notorious director moving in new directions, and embracing a form which seems in some ways more mature than the twisted and bloody yakuza dramas he is most well-known for. Nonetheless it is a movie which shows us that Miike has certainly not lost his flair or identity as a director, despite this change in topic. Managing to seamlessly marry his taste for the bizarre with the established and structured jidaigeki form, he makes it his own, and injects life into the somewhat stagnant genre. The insertion of trademark Miike moments never jar with the overall tone of the movie, as one might be inclined to expect. Instead they often add a sense of (quite literally) dumb horror, or alternatively odd moments of comedy, which are distinctly refreshing.

However, unique as Miike’s quirks may be, one can hardly fail to notice the movie’s inevitable tie to its filmic ancestors; in particular the father of the genre, Akira Kurosawa. This is something which holds the movie back. Miike establishes a team of 13 samurai who will ambush the tyrannical Lord Naritsugu in order to restore peace to the realm, much in the same way as Kurosawa introduces his seven samurai, who seek to ambush bandits intent on pillaging a small village. 13 Assassins is even replete with a distinctly Kurosawan commentary on the arrogance of the samurai, and a bandit character who is a blatant cariacature of the wonderfully charismatic Kikuchiyo. It is perhaps this intertextuality which is one of 13 Assassins’ most unfortunate downfalls. Having almost twice as many samurai and almost half as much tension, viewers find themselves unwittingly making negative comparisons.

But make no mistakes about it 13 Assassins is a solid film in its own rite. When compared to Seven Samurai so many chanbara fall short, but this does make them any less valid as independant works of art. The slow pace 13 Assassins renders its long-awaited climax scintillating, as a brooding sense of tension is crafted over ninety minutes of conference and character development. The film ends on a blistering fifty minute battle scene where we see exploding cattle, fancy sword-play and perhaps most memorably, torrents of blood raining from the sky. Whilst the movie’s use of set-pieces, and the choreography of sword-fights is nothing less than spectacular, at thirty minutes in the scene begins to slow, the violence becomes saturating, and the dramatic effect of such gore inevitably begins to wane. This is unfortunate, as a basic issue of restraint compromises a denouement which begins to reek of squandered dramatic potential.

16mm: An Economy of Negatives?

 
In the late 1920s, as the first few movies managed to successfully synchronise sound and image, there was suspicion, and even outcry in the world of film. Silent film was seen by many as a pure visual medium which, uninhibited by sound, offered a unique aesthetic virtue, for it ascribed a primacy of expression to the muted body, which had to convey meaning through dumb mime, gesture, touch, and even dance. Film was an art of the body, to be undercut, diluted and radically altered by the new-found opportunity to express meaning through speech. Many asked themselves: of what interest was a form which synchronised sound and image? Which reflected reality so intimately?

Of course with any technological or cultural advance, there are those who embrace change and evolve, and those who cling to what they cherish and know best, despite what the status quo may dictate. Silent films are made today, but when was the last time you saw one? The times change, and the sad fact is that certain media forms are overtaken by others, and find themselves lingering on dusty archive shelves. But does this really have to be the case? The old debate between the silent film traditionalists, and the advocates of the ‘talkies’ is not mentioned in vain, for we find a similar debate at play in contemporary society, regarding what is often referred to as the ‘digital revolution’ in film.

Three months ago the UK’s last professional lab to be printing 16mm film, based in Soho, was sold. Its new American owners say that they will discontinue 16mm. Within a couple of days of this announcement thousands of signatures had appeared on the ‘Save 16mm’ petition, and a number artists faithful to the medium spoke out against the development. As the grip of the digital age tightens, could the death of 16mm in the UK signal the start of a more widespread and damaging revolution, involving celluloid en masse? 

Despite 16mm’s status as a growing medium for artists in recent years, it is becoming less and less economically viable to produce, the cost of shooting a DV film and using digital post-production software pales into insignificance when put in contrast with the time and money involved in preparing celluloid. But doesn’t celluloid have a certain inimitable warmth? Doesn’t it carry an aura of sorts? Isn’t there something comforting about its grainy texture, something vaguely nostalgic, something soulful? Isn’t that alone something worth fighting for?

Advocates of digital film will no doubt tell you that it’s cheap, quick, and offers brighter and clearer images, but isn’t the artistry of using celluloid bound up to a certain extent in its preparation? In cutting the film from the rush print, sticking the shots together with tape, spooling, splicing, colouring each individual image in a transformative, alchemical process. Working with super16 requires the film-maker, as Tacita Dean has stated, to become both artist and artisan, in a hands-on creative process which requires more than just the clicking of buttons.

There have been claims that 16mm is an ‘outdated’ medium, which few use. Contrary to popular belief some of the most successful movies of the past few years have been shot on super16, including Oscar winners Black Swan, and The Hurt Locker. But as digital begins to take over, we find ourselves more and more concerned with clarity, high definition, ‘quality’, and the ability to shoot, produce and edit films to short time frames.

Far from stating that celluloid is better than digital it is clear that both mediums have their unique benefits, but why should we have to compromise one for the other? Celluloid finds itself at increasing danger of being trampled under hoof by digital. Digital film seems more and more to satisfy a dominant cultural mode of transparent mediation, allowing for a crispness and clarity of image which celluloid could never attain. But just because celluloid offers a different aesthetic effect to the consumerist norm doesn’t mean it should be cut. In fact this is precisely a reason to fight for its longevity. But as HD and 3D become increasingly desirable and profitable, celluloid’s downward spiral seems set to continue.

The ascent of one form of film-making shouldn’t mean the destruction of another. As a progressive society, and patrons of art, we should be encouraging and incubating open-mindedness in the process of filming and editing, and this should include protecting celluloid from excinction. However, the form can only be protected so long as there are people willing to fight for it. Like the transition from the silent films to the talkies, there is no doubt that digital is the way forward, but the ability and opportunity to experiment with celluloid should not be denied anyone.

Totoro

I want a Totoro! Now, just to find a secret passage-way under a bush and fall through a hole in a tree onto his stomach!


I've only seen six of the nineteen studio ghibli movies. This needs to be sorted out this summer. But hopefully the overwhelming cuteness doesn't affect my character too much ;)

Enter the Void

Gaspar Noé's Enter the Void theatrical trailer

You have no idea how excited I am about this...