When do black comedies go over the line into complete blackness? Usually, as in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, when the hero commits an act of violence so shocking that even snarky 14-year-olds choke on their giggles.
Shinohara Tetsuo has attempted something similar in Showa Kayo Daizenshu, albeit with a more manga-esque take. His story of amoral punks battling spoiled middle-aged women has a built-in absurdity - but it is hardly fluff. Like the best satire, its exaggerations illuminate certain truths with a clarity that realism often lacks. It may not cut like Kubrick’s icy scalpel, but it has a smart bite.
It begins in the Tokyo suburb of Chofu, where the six heroes, all drifting through their early 20s, have become close friends and co-conspirators. At night they gather at an abandoned pier to sing songs from the Showa Era (1926-89) - mainly ‘60s pop standards. (Kubrick’s Alex, with his Beethoven, may have had better taste, but the sextet’s affection for their music is similar). They even go in for old-time costumery - another Kubrickian touch.
One day one of their number, the lanky, soft-faced Sugioka (Ando Masanobu), ventures out, toting his favorite knife. In the street, he bumps into a middle-aged woman in a hurry. He follows her, tries to pick her up and, when she curtly rejects him, slashes her. He watches the blood spray out with a bemused detachment, then walks away, his irritation replaced with a surge of satisfaction.
The victim, we learn, is not just another housewife, but a member of a circle of six women - all past 40 and all with the first name Midori. Using a clue picked up at the murder scene, the Midoris soon track down Sugioka. This, they decide, is more fun than the karaoke sessions that had been their only real bond. (They also prefer Showa Era tunes). They then proceed to terminate the evil-doer using a similar weapon - if a more spectacular method. Naturally, this means war….
Working from a script by Omori Sugio, Shinohara handles the escalation that follows with subtlety and wit, while placing the two opposing groups squarely in their proper social milieu. They may be familiar types - the young slacker male and the pushy middle-aged female - but they express more than typical attitudes.
Instead, they and the other characters act out their true feelings, including murderous rage, with a matter-of-factness that is funny - and accurate. When real communities and relationships are replaced by random collections of social atoms, as is happening in today’s Japan, old restraints dissolve and group violence becomes a kind of elixir for numbed souls, with a bigger charge than any video game.
Mark Schilling