Learning Japanese with Takeshi Kitano

Learning Japanese is no easy feat. Let no-one ever tell you it is. Having learned French from an early age, and been enchanted by Latin from seven, I’ve always had a fascination with language. Japanese, however, is a whole different kettle of sushi.

With no root language even remotely similar to our Roman ancestry, Japanese is not only alien to look at, with its three different alphabet systems, but also entirely unique in its grammar, phonics and just about every other aspect of communicative linguistics. As such, despite having been submerged in this country for a year now, I still struggle past even the most basic of communications.

That said, I’m coming along. At a recent teachers’ seminar, someone brought up the concept of “Recall and Recognition”, wherein the first stage of learning a language is being able to understand what is going on. Whether or not one can take an active part in a conversation is not important, it’s the fact that the content of said conversation is understood. Naturally, knowing roughly what the subject is to start with is always helpful…

So, today, with the theory of R&R in mind, I decided to visit a film that I know relatively well; Kinji Fukasaku’s infamous political thriller and general blood-fest, Battle Royale.

Having seen the film twice before, and ravenously devouring the book earlier this year, BR is a tale I’m familiar with, and probably my favourite Japanese film to date. And so, an adventure. A test, if you will.

Battle Royale, without subtitles.


Battle Royale
(Kinji Fukasaku, 2000)

4.5 Stars

Based on perhaps Japan’s most notorious book of all time, Kinji Fukasaku’s film version of Koushun Takami’s 1999 tome Battle Royale seems to be one of those marmite movies… You either love it, or you hate it. The hate, however, seems not to stem from the film itself, but the concept; in a dystopian near-future, the Japanese government have turned to extreme measures in an attempt to control their rebellious students. The BR Act dictates that one class of high school students shall fight to the death each year, thus eliminating rowdy students and acting as a deterrent for subsequent classes.

It’s a twisted concept on paper, and even watching the film, and having read the book, it’s one that’s difficult to comprehend the reasons behind. It is, nonetheless, one of the most shocking and disturbing ideas for a story that one could come up with. I remember fondly the moment I first realised the impact of this movie; watching, for the first time, the scene in which the forty school-kids are told that they must kill their nearest and dearest friends if they wish to survive the next seventy-two hours. Told via a grinning TV presenter, this is truly one of the most nauseating and thought-provoking scenes I have ever come across.

Following heroes Nanahara (played with just the right amount of annoying whininess by Tatsuya Fujiwara) and Noriko (Aki Maeda) as they attempt to survive the program, we are introduced to an array of supporting characters, most of whom unfortunately don’t get enough screen time to explore their intricate stories outlined in the book. Instead, Fukasaku concentrates on the major arcs from the book, portraying them well and, for the most part, with deliciously shocking effect. Most notably, the infamous “lighthouse” scene, in which the true effects of the Programme are shown; distrust, betrayal, and inevitably, bloody, bloody death.

The acting is top notch throughout; Taro Yamamoto is wonderful as the rugged and world-weary Shogo Kawada, whilst Masanobu Ando is maniacally malicious as cold-blooded killer Kazuo Kiriyama. Alas, his death is rather anti-climactic.

The star of the show, however, is the legendary Takeshi Kitano, who not only adds an element of the blackest comedy to an otherwise bleak tale, but also brings an uncomfortable tenderness to a character that could have easily been played as a simple bastard.

Perhaps my only gripe with the film is the pretentious poems which follow the majority of the deaths. Displayed across the screen, these do little more than detract from what’s actually going on within the movie.

Beautifully shot in some fantastic locations, and with a score of perfectly chosen classical instrumentations, Battle Royale is truly a masterpiece of Asian cinema, and indeed of cinema itself. The haters, in my opinion, don’t hate it for the craft, they hate it for the content.

And did I understand it?

Let’s just say I’m glad I’ve seen it before…