Despite the title, the two principals, Momoko and Ichigo, are hardly anyone’s self-immolating stereotypes.
Momoko lives in her own fantasy world, inspired by the Rococo, with its blissful frivolity and gloriously ornate fashions. She journeys three hours on the train to Daikanyama, a Tokyo fashion Mecca, where she splurges on the lacy concoctions of a boutique that takes its fashion cues from Victorian-era dolls.
It takes guts to wear this stuff in the wilds of Ibaragi - but Momoko ignores the stares and taunts. Peddling the fake Versace on the Internet to finance her shopping sprees, she attracts the attention of Ichigo, a biker on a 50 cc scooter, who snarls and spits at the slightest provocation. The two girls become allies - if not yet friends.
The story revolves around their quest to find a legendary embroiderer in Daikanyama, the only one Ichigo feels is worthy of stitching a design on a tokkofuku - a long, loose-fitting coat favored by anti-social types - for the leader of her all-woman biker gang.
In the course of their adventures, Momoko digs out many revelations about Ichigo, while revealing her own talents for embroidery - and pachinko. Clearly neither of these girls are quite what they seem. But can they truly close the cultural gap that yawns between them?
Based on a novel by Novala Takemoto, Kamikaze Girls certainly has cheeky fun with its two fashionista heroines, who occupy the opposite ends of the sexual-role-playing scale. But Nakashima, an in-demand TV commercial director, goes beyond cartoony sight gags to undercover his heroines’ psychic underpinnings, from their messed up childhoods to their philosophies of life.
His type of semi-absurdist, self-referential filmmaking is familiar now, but Nakashima soars past any models, foreign or domestic, into a candy-colored realm of his own.
However distant it may be from the gray Monday morning Japan of reality, its giddy, grrrl-powered energy is infectious - and made Kamikaze Girls a surprise hit in Japan.