Miyazaki Triple Play

Growing up in the West, one finds oneself inundated with the mandatory offerings of such greats as Disney Studios and the once great, now utter garbage-worthy Nickelodeon. As such, with “Part of Your World” ringing in my English-friendly ears, I have always been rather biased in my choice of animated features.

But, having been here in JapLand for coming on two years now, I figured it was about time to drop the Englishness and investigate exactly what the Nihon answer to nineties nostalgia is all about.

So, with a set of subtitles and an open mind, this week we ventured into the works of legendary director Hayao Miyazaki, Japan’s answer to the late Walter D, and a fellow who loves dragons, dust bunnies and seems to have a rather disturbing affinity for young girls…

Fun times.


Tonari no Totoro
(My Neighbor Totoro)
(Hayao Miyazaki, 1988)

4 Stars

Probably Miyazaki’s most recognisable creation, this delightful little fairytale follows impetuous young girl Mei and her sister Satsuki as they struggle with lurking dust bunnies and an ailing mother. Along the way, they befriend giant fluffy monster Totoro and his bizarre and rather scary Cat Bus companion.

Though not the shiny happy fairy story that perhaps one would expect from an American studio, Totoro is certainly a sweet and moving tale, perfectly capturing the personalities of the young girls, both of whom really feel like real kids, whilst at the same time creating a lovely little world where cuddly beasts help us through our most difficult times. Quite frankly, I know I could’ve done with a Totoro through a lot of my childhood years.

The true wonder of Totoro, however, is not in its beautiful storytelling, but in the sheer spectacle of the animation itself. Whilst Disney studios at the time were experimenting with CGI and rather overstretching themselves with that oft-forgotten period that spawned such forgotten low-sellers as The Black Cauldron, Oliver and Company and the tragically under-rated The Great Mouse Detective, Miyazaki’s Gibli studios were concentrating on making simple yet startling back-drops on which poignantly drawn characters could play. The result is an animated feature that would not look out of place in cinemas even now; as clean-cut and shiny as the day of release.

A beautiful start to our threesome.

Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi
(Spirited Away)
(Hayao Miyazaki, 2001)

4.5 Stars

This is the big one, I guess… The one that made Miyazaki if not famous, at least somewhat well known in the West.

The one what Disney bought and then dubbed over.

Spirited Away is the wickedly enchanting tale of a young girl, Chihiro, who, whilst on a family vacation with her somewhat idiotic parents (who quite deservedly, in my opinion, get turned into pigs within the first ten minutes of the film), finds herself whisked up by an evil witch who steals her name (a recurring theme in Miyazaki it seems) and sets her to work in her magical bathhouse for the Gods.

It’s a bizarre tale, filled with some of the freakiest and most disturbing characters I think I’ve ever come across in a kids’ film (The Dark Crystal might be the exception), and at two hours long, it’s also quite an epic, especially when struggling to keep up with the ever-convoluting storyline.

But it’s worth it. Chihiro’s annoying petulance rapidly turns into a rather lovable heroicness, whilst the character arc for the initially terrifying “No-Face” is of touching ingenuity. And trying to figure out the shape-shifting Haku’s true intentions is an intriguing delight.

The Stink God also rocks my socks.

All in all, a truly epic adventure in Japanese fairytale, which really does live up to the hype. Just remember never to eat an old lady’s dinner…


Hauru no Ugoku Shiro
(Howl’s Moving Castle)
(Hayao Miyazaki, 2004)

4 Stars

The final trip down Miyazaki highway this week is the critically acclaimed Howl’s Moving Castle, based on Welsh writer Diana Wynn-Jones’ book of the same name.

Another story of a young girl lost in a magical land, this movie sees heroine Sophie bewitched by an evil hag (who for some reason subsequently becomes her grandmother…), turning her into an old woman. In her quest to break the spell, she meets a living scarecrow, a talking fire and falls in love with shape-shifting wizard. Oh, and there’s also one of the most adorable cartoon dogs ever illustrated.

I must admit, I did try watching the English dub a few years ago, whenst my then flatmate Sean was going through one of his many peculiarly idiosyncratic obsessions. At the time, I was not all too impressed, but watching it in its original format, one can truly understand the appeal.

Hollywood remakers should take note…

The one let-down, however, is something that seems to plague all of Miyazaki’s films; the too-quickly-over ending. In a two hour long animated feature, is there really any need to cram an ending into thirty seconds? Especially with all of the ridiculous long shots of crowds and boat and othersuch unnecessary gubbins.

That said, Howl’s is still an impressive feat of animation, fully worthy of all its praise.

A week well spent with Miyazaki-san.

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…

Cochon D'Inde

When I first heard of the Japanese film series known as the Guinea Pig films, I was more than a little intrigued. A certain movie streaming network, which shall remain unnamed lest the powers that be take out their vengeful wrath upon their less than legal exploits, categorised the films as “horror shorts”. Naturally, my mind, being what it is, instantly envisaged a series of comic horror films about guinea pigs. Alas, upon further research, I was proved far from correct in my assumptions.

The Guinea Pig films are not, in reality, some cute creature features, but actually a series of extreme gore flicks harking from the perverse mind of Manga writer Hideshi Hino. The first two are so realistic in their depictions of violence, that there were, for a long time, thought to be actual snuff films, taking a very long and arduous court case to prove otherwise.

Last night I watched two of the films; the second and fourth in the series. And oh, what fun we had.

Gini Piggu: Manhoru no Naka no Ningyo
Mermaid in a Manhole
(Hideshi Hino, 1988)

No Stars

I often seem to be at a loss for words when it comes to Japanese films, and Mermaid in a Manhole has probably left me with the most nihilistic “what the hell have I just watched?” feeling of any film I’ve seen to date. A pretty impressive feat.

The story revolves around a painter, whose sanity is rather questionable from the outset, who discovers a dying mermaid in the sewer under his house. He takes in the mermaid and, rather than taking her to the authorities, who might just be able to help her, decides to paint her. As the film progresses, the mermaid becomes increasingly ill, breaking out in delightful pustules (which the painter drains and uses for his craft – like I said, questionable sanity here), before vomiting various creepy crawlies and eventually expiring.

There’s no art here; no deeper meaning, it’s simply an experiment in disgusting the audience, no more, no less. The acting is horrendous, and although the effects are good, and most certainly nauseating, there’s just no need for it.

Gore films do, I will admit, intrigue me. Pushing the limit of the human senses through film is a fascinating field for me, but it needs something more than meaningless puss flying everywhere. And the mermaid had nothing on Ariel.

Gini Piggu 2: Chiniku no Hana
Flower of Flesh and Blood
(Hideshi Hino, 1985)

3.5 Stars

This is the second, and perhaps most controversial of the Guinea Pig series, not only sparking a huge court case for snuff allegations after Charlie Sheen watched it, but also being associated with a copy-cat killer a few years after its release.

I must say, I can see why the court case came up. Flower of Flesh and Blood, quite honestly, has some of the most convincing special effects I’ve ever seen. When you also take into account this was made twenty five years ago on a minute budget, it really is quite a spectacular feat in film making.

There’s really not much of a narrative here; again based on one of Hino’s Manga stories, we follow a florist as he dismembers the body of a still-live young woman to use the parts in his ornate displays. It’s basically forty minutes of dismemberment and disembowelling. But dear lord is it entrancing.

Every cut, every slice, every sawn bone is so very convincing that, as a viewer, one can’t help but question just how it was done. When the young girl’s hand is removed, for example, we see every sinew, each tiny bone, and the hand, ghostlike, continues to move for a few seconds after removal. It’s bloody convincing.

How it was all done, I don’t know, and I shall most likely try to track down the “making of” film (though finding it in Japan shall be nigh on impossible, since all seven of the films have been banned over here since the aforementioned serial killer was found to have all of them in his video collection). As an exhibit of special effects, this is a masterpiece. As a film? Well, if you like that sort of thing…

Subtitle Challenge: Day 4

Negatibu Happi Chenso Ejji
Negative Happy Chainsaw Edge
(Takuji Kitamura, 2007)

2 Stars

I’ve always been a stickler for movies with daft names; Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, Killer Klowns From Outer Space… But when it comes to really off-the-wall titles, Japan has always held the crown. Thus, when I came across the bizarrely named Negative Happy Chainsaw Edge during this week’s Nippon Challenge, I cared not for content, simple knowing that such an oddball title was one I had to watch.

I must admit, however, that I was left somewhat disappointed. Unlike, for example, Vampire Girl Vs Frankenstein Girl, Negative Happy Chainsaw Edge is not quite the foray into weirdness that its name suggests.

Admittedly, on the surface, the story is just the right level of crazy; a girl, somehow endowed with super powers, is visited on a nightly basis by a strange chainsaw wielding man from outer space. Cue some excellent martial arts sequences and more flying daggers than a certain House by the same name, all shot with a keen eye for the art. Alas, between these groovy little fight sequences is a rather listless romance story about what seems to be finding your inner self and fighting the demons therein. As a concept, it’s not bad, but in execution it’s generally pretty bland.

The two leads, who alas I cannot name as IMDB has somehow failed to house a cast list (perhaps the first time that the net’s greatest asset has let me down), are rather uninteresting, and not enough info is given as to the Chainsaw Man’s presence to keep a viewer intrigued.

That said, it’s certainly not the worst way to spend ninety minutes, with just enough of the high-flying action to keep yourself awake. Just not quite enough to warrant a better review…

Subtitle Challenge: Day 3

20-Seiki Shonen:
Honkaku Kagaku Boken Eiga
20th Century Boys: Chapter 1
(Yukihiko Tsutsumi, 2008)

3.5 Stars

Friends say it’s fine, friends say it’s good… And for the most part, it is. Larger than life sci-fi manga epic 20th Century Boys is, as the first in a trilogy a petty high energy and intriguing introduction into the world of accidental hero Kenji Endo and his unlikely comrades as they attempt to rid the world of a terror of their own creation.

In a story that executes itself like a Stephen King saga, 20th Century Boys tells the tale of a young group of children who spend their summer creating a comic book, known as “The Book of Prophecies” which foretells the end of the world at the hands of an evil company led by the mysterious “Friend”. Twenty years later, however, a spate of strange occurrences across the globe are hauntingly similar to those that Kenji and his friends had created, and the group soon find themselves mankind’s only hope against Friend’s reign of terror.

The story itself is pretty solid, though certainly at times rather convoluted, but is a great set up for what I am sure is a good couple of sequels. Judging by the high octane climax, there’s certainly more delights to come, and with this being one of Japan’s most costly cinematic ventures of all time, I’m pretty certain they will deliver.

The cast, admittedly (as you can probably guess from the title) is a bit of a sausage fest, but each of the main players has their own unique charm, with Toshiaki Karasawa leading with an innocent force as erstwhile rock star and cartoonist Kenji. Etsushi Toyokawa as the mysterious anti-hero Otcha is delightfully intriguing, and Teruyuki Kagawa provides some great comic relief as the token chubster of the group. I’m sure had Stephen King penned it, he would’ve been called Ben… I seem to recall his resident portly child was usually a Ben.

There are many questions left unanswered at the end of this first instalment. Indeed, I think every question is left unanswered, and at almost three hours long, it’s a pretty lengthy introduction to the sage. However, if the rest of the series lives up to this standard, I’m sure it’ll all be worth it in the end.

And quite frankly, any Japanese movie that kicks off with some Marc Bolan has already won me over.

Subtitle Challenge: Day 2

Today, going strong on the challenge, we have a movie that has been tempting me for a long time, and indeed one that I feel a fool for not watching sooner...

Koroshiya 1
Ichi the Killer
(Takeshi Miike, 2001)

4.5 Stars

Koroshiya 1, or Ichi the Killer as it is known in English, is one of those films that I’ve always been aware of, but just never bothered to watch. As one of my dear friend Michael’s favourite films, I am surprised I was never sat down to watch it during my university days, but then again, I was rather passive of Asian cinema back in my younger years.

Infamous for its ultraviolence and notorious tongue-slicing scene, Miike’s manga adaptation really is two hours of high-octane cartoonish craziness, managing with Miike’s signature needle-point precision to submerse its audience in a surreal yet somehow believable world.

Set in the grungy Yakuza-run Shibuya, Ichi follows the exploits of second in command Kakihara as he carves his way through the local gang life in search of the eponymous Ichi, a merciless killer who has supposedly kidnapped his gang’s leader.

Tadanobu Asano as the iconic Kakihara is an intoxicating delight from start to finish, a true masochist behind his Chelsea smile, making Heath Ledger’s Joker look like a kitten. He also has the coolest dress sense a man could ever dream of. His trusted side-kicks, psychotic twins Jiro and Saburo (both played by Suzuki Matsuo) hit the screen like a sadistic Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, somehow bringing hilarity to their depraved behaviour.

The one initial flaw I found was that of Ichi himself, played by Nao Omori, who seems somewhat cartoonish amidst the dark and grimy Yakuza world, most notably in his first killing spree (involving a man literally being sliced in half by the spurs on Ichi’s shoes), but once this initial weirdness has time to settle in, it truly makes sense within the rest of the film.

Fluctuating at times between Japanese, English and Cantonese, and taking viewers on a high energy tour of Tokyo, Miike truly captures the craziness of the Shibuya streets, whilst juxtaposing it perfectly against his gory, and at times disturbing, presentation of the Anjo gang.

Crazed and depraved, Ichi is ultimately thought-provoking and almost tender, presenting us with some of the most psychologically complex characters imaginable. It’s also at times wickedly funny, overly violent and genuinely exciting, bringing to the screen a true representation of the insanity of Japanese manga. There’s also some damned fine coats on show, and everyone knows that’s the most important thing.

The Great Nipponese Subtitle Challenge: Day 1

So, I’ve been in Japan a while now, and despite my love of films, I’ve watched a shockingly paltry amount of the local offerings. In the past nine months, I’ve probably watched less than five Japanese movies. Rather disgraceful.

Of course, one of the main issues here is that DVDs of local movies don’t actually have English subtitles, and with my Japanese not exactly stellar, we hit something of a wall.

But to the challenge: The internet, as we all know, is host to pretty much every film one could ever need (apart from Yoshihiro Hoshino’s Cho Kowai Hanashi, which I rather fancied this weekend, but couldn’t find ANYWHERE), and, when it comes to Asian movies, pretty much every language of subtitle one could wish for. So, having watched the delightful Suicide Club yesterday, I decided to set myself a challenge; one week of only Japanese films, thus hopefully improving not only my submersion into the culture, but also my listening skills.

The rules are simple; at least one film each day, each and every one being made in Japan and in Japanese language. Watching English language films during the next seven days deems the quest null and void. I have some classics picked out already, but if you, fair reader, have any recommendations, just let me know. Here’s the plan so far:

· Seven Samurai
· Ichi The Killer
· Godzilla (1954)
· Lone Wolf and Cub: Sword of Vengeance
· Happiness of the Katakuris
· 20th Century Boys
· Dark Water
· And, just ‘cause I love it, Battle Royale (again…)

Should we have time, I may also revisit some horror “classics” like Ring, Ju-on and Audition, and perhaps treat myself to some more light-hearted Miyazaki fun.

And so to day one, where we have two films, both great in their own way, one of which I’ve been wanting to watch for a long time, and the other I probably won’t be wanting to watch ever again.

Kyuketsu Shojo tai Shojo Furanken
Vampire Girl Vs Frankenstein Girl
(Yoshihiro Nishimura and Naoyuki Tomomatsu, 2009)

4.5 Stars

Japan is stupid. I don’t mean that in a derogatory way at all. In fact, I say it rather affectionately. Japanese humour is utterly daft, and their obsession with crazy schoolgirls is borderline weird. That said, when it comes to utterly insane comic book style action movies about schoolgirl vampires, only Japan could have ever come up with the awesome comedy gore-fest that is Vampire Girl Vs Frankenstein Girl.

Forget the mopey, whiny teen vamps that have been polluting our screens for all too long now, and make way for the delicious Yukie Kawamura, the “vampire girl” of the title. The new student at what has to be the weirdest school on the planet; a school where wrist cutting is a sporting event, and a group of students black up and walk around trying to be Michael Jackson, Monami the vampire (hehe... Mona the Vampire....) finds herself falling in love with school stud Jyugon (Takumi Saito).

However, when Jyugon’s would be girlfriend Keiko (played by painfully sexy Japanese model Eri Otoguro) discovers her new rival’s true identity, she accidentally throws herself off the school roof, giving her father (who rather inexplicably believes himself to be the grandson of Victor Frankenstein) the opportunity to try out his crazed research. Suffice to say, as you can guess by the title, there’s subsequently some serious monster smack-downs. On the top of Tokyo Tower. Naturally.

It’s stupid, and it’s totally cheesy, with some pretty awful special effects, but it knows it, and quite frankly, what do you expect from a film called Vampire Girl Vs Frankenstein Girl? On the positive side, this is one of the funniest, coolest and sexiest movies I’ve seen in a long time, and certainly runs rings around Western horror comedies. A great way to start the week of Japanese movies, and already vying for a place in my all-time top movies.

Nekeddo Buraddo: Megyaku
Splatter: Naked Blood
(Hisayasu Sato, 1995)

3 Stars

If there’s one thing Asian films are famous for, it’s their gut-wrenchingly high levels of gruesome gore that despite their bloody flow over here are generally far too sordid and taboo for Western audiences.

So, as a tentative step in my foray into Japanese cinema, I decided to go full out and throw myself in at the deep end with one of Japan’s most notoriously gory exploits, Hisayasu Sato’s 1995 blood-fest Nekeddo Burrado. Oh golly gosh.

Years earlier, Sato made his name in the exploitation industry with his 1987 film Rape: For Real, a tale of devilish debauchery the world had ne’er seen the likes of, and one that is still under international censorship to this day. Good times.

His 90’s venture is pretty grim, with some of the most nauseatingly realistic depictions of self-mutilation I think I’ve ever seen. The scene in which a young woman, driven mad by the pain-to-pleasure drug “MySon”, removes her own eyeball and proceeds to eat it gleefully is, to my recollection, the only scene in cinema that has ever actually made me feel physically sick. Exactly how it was done, I’m not sure, but it’s pretty darn convincing.

But I’m probably jumping ahead a little, so here’s a run down of the story; young genius Eiji Kure (played with a wonderful innocence by Sadao Abe) concocts a formula that can convert feelings of sadness or pain into joy, with which he hopes to end world suffering. Unfortunately, the drug has somewhat psychotic side-effects, driving his test subjects insane with ecstasy, causing one, in a scene rather reminiscent of many of Takeshi Miike’s films, to turn herself into a human pincushion. The second, as I have mentioned, literally eats herself to death, whilst the third becomes a psychotic serial killer, relishing in the pain of others. It’s all good fun.

Behind all the grotesque, however, there is a rather smart existential message about not only the dangers of “world changing” ideals, but the lengths the human race goes to for pleasure. At least I think there is. If not, it’s just a bloody grim piece of exploitation. I’ll leave it to you to decide. If you can stomach it.

Schoolgirl Suicide

Jisatsu Sakuru
Suicide Club
(Shion Sono, 2001)

3 Stars

I woke this morning rather in the mood for some bizarre Japanese horror. Not really surprising, what with being in Japan and being rather fond of horror films. But there you go. The bizarre thing is, it’s rather tricksy trying, as an Englishman, to watch Asian films over here, as none seem to come with that oh so handy feature known as the subtitle. So god bless YouTube and its entirely legal selection of fillums.

Shion Sono’s notorious Jisatsu Sakuru is a rather strange experience, taking the viewer through pretty much every genre imaginable; horror, detective drama, techno-thriller, and that all too important Eighties David Bowie Style Musical. Like I said, it’s a weird one.

The film begins with the shocking mass suicide of 54 girls at Ueno subway station in Tokyo. It is, I must say, one of the most powerful opening sequences I’ve seen in a while. Certainly since Lars Von Trier’s Antichrist. From there, we are plunged into the world of the inevitably ill-fated detective Kuroda, played with staunch valour by Japanese legend Ryo Ishibashi (Ju-on, Brother) as he attempts to uncover the cause of the bizarre suicides that follow.

I must say, the first hour of the film is great, four or five star stuff, with some intriguing plot twists, excellent direction, and some painfully watchable death sequences (notably the scene in which a young mother happily butchers her own hand… Lovely, lovely Japanese…). Thereafter however, with the appearance of “Genesis” (a weird Bowie-esque figure played by Japanese singer Rolly), the film just seems to descend into nonsense. A godawful Labyrinth-esque sequence preceeds a bunch of inexplicable psycho-babble that in no way explains what has actually been going on. As such, as we reach the end of the film, the viewer is left utterly clueless as to the cause of the bizarre happenings. Apparently it’s all explained in Sono’s follow-up Noriko No Shokutaku, but the bored teenager in me rather needs some closure in the first film thankyouverymuch. Same reason I don’t like Lost.

In all, however, I did enjoy Suicide Club. And it has, like the Japanese music industry itself, re-enforced my distrust of J-Pop. Cutesy twelve years olds giving subliminal messages encouraging suicide? Only in Asia…

ROCK AND ROLL!!!

Wild Zero
(Tetsuro Takeuchi, 2000)

4 Stars

Oh Japan, how I love thee. Few countries produce such delectably bizarre films as are made in the studios of Japan. Inconceivably insane films such as The Happiness of the Katakuris or indeed any number of tentacle-based hentai have given rise to the Nipponese infamy for the down right weird.

And this little treat does nothing less than endorse this stereotype. A zom-rom-com featuring aliens, transsexuals and garage punk, Wild Zero is a truly rare find, and I must whole-heartedly thank one of my colleagues up in TokyoLand for the recommendation.

The movie starts with a Corman-esque alien invasion that brings back to gory life the recently departed. Meanwhile rock star wannabe Ace is busy bumbling about, accidentally saving his hero, punk guitarist Guitar Wolf, from his arch nemesis; evil record producer The Captain, a man who spends the vast majority of the movie in a rather disturbing pair of hot pants..

What follows the gloriously hectic opening sequence is a full ninety minutes of fun, chaos, and, most importantly Rock and Roll, as Ace finds himself fighting off zombies, combing his hair, and falling passionately in love with a girl who is actually a guy.

Along the way, we have one of the best Psycho parodies to date, in which a buxom young lovely is interrupted mid-shower by a hoard of zombies, resulting in a delightful naked gun fight (exactly where she was hiding the gun, I’m not entirely sure, though utterly intrigued…), as well as one of the coolest pieces of weaponry to grace our screens; a samurai sword concealed in the neck of Guitar Wolf’s electric guitar.

With heads exploding at a bi-minutely rate, copious screamings of “ROCK AND ROOOOOOOOOOOOOLL!!!”, and more explosions than the entire Michael Bay back-catalogue, Wild Zero is an utterly enthralling piece of nonsensical genius; funny, gory and indeterminably cool. A masterpiece of the bizarre.