Kibakichi (aka Werewolf Warrior, Kibakichi: Bakko yokaiden, 2004)

In an attempt to diversify it's portfolio, MTI Studios along with it's newly born Saiko Films, threw together an inspired movie called Kibakichi, admittedly to gain some Asian Horror cred and cash in in the current success of the genre. This is the new label's first film. The studio's summary also appears on the Region 1 DVD. What it leaves out is that Kibakachi is standard B-movie fair. I had higher hopes for it.

The film opens with a deep, ominous voice; "A long time ago humans and monsters called Yokai, and nature lived in harmony without getting in the way of each other. But soon, men began to destroy the Yokai. Some fled to the mountains and some turned themselves into men, women, and the elderly to hide from the human world."

Now, there are obviously clear parallels in Kibakichi's story between world history's conflicting countries or populations within countries in man's quest for advancement or simply the ability to conquer and rule. Whether it's rooted, in the film's case (?), in feudal Japan's emergence into a more technologically advanced world (which I don't know a lot about, regrettably), or the Europeans going to America and taking land from the Indians, or even more contemporary instances, there's definitely a moral backdrop in Kibakichi. But such situations have taken place for thousands and thousands of years and in the end, it's the way the world has worked for just as long. So I tried to set that on the back burner while taking in the spectacle of Kibakichi.

The "spaghetti western" aspect of the movie is evident from the start. Kibakichi is strolling through a dry, grassy plain, while a group of bandits try to get the jump on him for some reason. The camera ping-pongs back and forth between sides and then, as if an homage to Sergio Leone, freezes on the blazing afternoon sun. Needless to say, Kibakichi will continue on his way that day. And similar to Clint Eastwood in his famous trilogy, Kibakichi, with reason, (as we find out later in the movie), will agree to extend his services to help pacify the village's turmoils. But unlike The Man with No Name Trilogy, Eastwood didn't encounter talking frog or turtle monsters on a narrow bridge leading into the tiny town. I'll have to check on that though. Kibakichi takes some sake at a pub and is quickly "recruited" to gamble at the local casino (for lack of a better term) and just like that, the meat of the story kicks into high gear. He sits at a long, low table to wager on a dice game that's based on an "even or odds" outcome. Many other patrons are also gambling , as well as enjoying the company of one of the many giggling geisha girls. It's not long before Kibakichi is raking in the cash and then suddenly pulled away from the table and asked by the village leader Onizo for his help as different factions of the region maneuver for respect and land rights. While other are more interested in recognition and power.

All in all, Kibakichi is a gutty effort from first time director and studio alike. It's well-rounded in it's mix of samurai fighting and monster mashing; along with a decent story. Even with it's flaws and the unexpected appearance of some modern weaponry, fan's of the genre shouldn't be left hanging. There's a little for everyone here. It's not exactly horror, as the studio claims (horror/action/fantasy). But I guess that depends on what you consider to be horror. I'd say it's closer to "slasher" if I were being pressed. And despite the often cheesy dialogue (ex. "Life is like a spot on a dice, we won't know until we shake it.") and freshman effort on the part of the director, which may have been a budget issue, Kibakichi wraps up nicely with some (literally) high flying action and ties up the story nicely as well. I don't think it's necessary to go into specifics here, especially with character names and individual motives because Kibakichi does jump around a bit and a couple very small plot holes left me wondering a little, but didn't distract me from enjoying it, somewhat. Kibakichi, I believe, is a love it or hate it type movie. Personally, I think it had an identity crisis. But I'll begrudgingly recommend it for it's uniqueness.

Infernal Affairs (Wu jian dao, 2002)

Infernal Affairs begins as young police cadet named Chan Wing Yan (Tony Leung) is being groomed by the highest ranks of the Academy to eventually become an inside man for the police. His keen eye and steady demeanor makes him the perfect candidate to infiltrate the Triads, who have taken control of Hong Kong's streets and are peddling massive amounts of drugs to it's citizens. At the same time, a different road is laid out for fellow Academy officer Lau Kin Ming (Andy Lau). Although we aren't witness to the actual path he takes, Ming becomes Yan's counterpart in the film, as he uses his position within the higher ranks of the police department to keep Triad Boss Sam a step ahead of any police actions. Sam is deftly played by Eric Tsang, who gives a highly effective, authentic performance here. What follows is one of the best table-turning, catch-me-if-you-can cop stories ever put to film.

Often compared with another great epic, Michael Mann's "Heat", Infernal Affairs is quicker, brighter and goes down in 40 minute less time. It's apparent why this film became a smashing success in Asia and in turn, exploded onto the world scene. Spawning a sequel (which is actually a prequel) and then a third installment.

Returning to the story; Yan, after leaving the Academy and subsequently earning his chops
on the street as a Triad footman for 10 years, becomes a member deep in Sam's inner circle. Yan continues to work directly and exclusively with Superintendent Wong (played by Anthony Wong) feeding him information that Wong puts to good use. He brings that information to his most elite police team led by Officer Ming, who unbeknown to Wong, relays it back to the Triads. Ming showcases his moxie and stealth inside an active command center, feeding police channels and locations to Sam in real-time, within five feet of fellow officers. Yan, at the same time, finds a way to keep Wong informed. A brilliantly scripted Felix Chong & Siu Fai Mak screenplay lends weight, tension and gravity to even the simplest scenes. Finally, Wong is able to get Sam brought in to be interviewed, but by that time, they both know that each has an undercover man inside their particular camps. In a Pacino/DeNiro-esque face-off, Wong and Sam smugly challenge each other to find their respective moles. The rest of the film is yours to enjoy.

One aspect of this film that gets as much attention and kudos as the characters themselves
is Chan Kwong Wing's stellar, powerful, moody soundtrack. The original score begins the
film along with sweeping, abstract visuals that flow gracefully across the screen, accompanied by the undulating score. What stuck with me in particular (as a first time listener to his work) was the alternately light, then heavy drum tracks as they scurried from front to back, left to right, left-rear to right-rear and diagonally back; washing the entire room with energy and life. The mood shifted from forceful grandeur to intricate suspicion and back again. The perfect audio preview to what was to follow. Deep inside the film is a heart-wrenching female vocal track that seems to signal the true beginning to Yan and Ming's respective gambits toward finding out each another, and when she sings again, yet another chapter begins to take shape. It's brilliant in depth and scope. Never a track out of step with the film and only the most appropriate volume and energy. So rarely does a soundtrack fall into line and dance so well with a film. So rarely does one set the tone for a film.

Infernal Affairs is loaded with subterfuge and intrigue. We're privy to both sides of the proverbial infiltration equation from the start, but this formula gets more complex with near misses and natural character evolutions, even as the story itself appears to begin it's resolution. At least that's what I found. There is a touch generic cop vs. cop to it (if I must find a flaw), with a couple classic stand-offs, but very little mano-a-mano conflict. The film's confrontations are wholly group against group; good against bad. That can't be ignored. The beauty of the film is in the interaction. It has all of the elements of many crime dramas, but Infernal Affairs is genuine and sophisticated like none other.

The Return (Возвращение, 2003)

Andrei Zvyagintsev's temperate thriller The Return portrays a mother and two sons living their seemingly unaffected lives, when, without warning, the man of the house (a resolute performance from Konstantin Lavronenko) returns. We as the audience are clueless to whether the mother (or for that matter the live-in grandmother) anticipated his return, but it's apparent that the two boys, Ivan (Ivan Dobronravov) and Andrei (Vladimir Garin), are taken by surprise. What is clear though is the boys initially resist their new father's regimented philosophies — a stark contrast to mom's. Slowly, the boys warm to their father but remain somewhat cautiously distant during an impromptu fishing trip. The remainder of the film puts the father-son relationship under an unequivocal gaze when the boys are tested along the expedition.

The Return's starkly constructed world smacks of a grim post-WWII shiftlessness, but this is most certainly a timeless, even allegorical tale. A lingering tension concerning the father's motivation seeps to the surface and is bolstered by the children's confusion and wavering allegiance. Filming in extreme northwest Russia near St. Petersburg, on and around Lake Ladoga — (in a tragic twist, the young actor who plays the eldest son, Andrey, drowned in this very lake shortly before the film premiered). Zvyagintsev chooses a befitting and picturesque locale to strengthen the personal conflicts in his humanistic masterwork. The region seems to smile wide and we're treated to lingering, poignant portraits throughout. At times this breadth of dimension and sparse dialogue struggles to invigorate, its smoldering fraternal conflict weighs heavy early on, but there's a method to this approach. A superabundance of symbolism, a mainstay in Russian storytelling, and references to powerful religious artwork, only adds to the visual buffet. One can't not be satisfied. It's simplicity lends to its extravagance.