The blog of author Dennis Cooper

Month: September 2020 (Page 11 of 12)

Noise Makers #4

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Tamar Harpaz Crazy Delay, 2018
‘The thought that every object is a potential black box is both thrilling and threatening. When sound hits an object, it causes that object to vibrate. Its motion is invisible to the human eye. The object becomes like a diaphragm in a loudspeaker, a witness capturing the latent vibrations of a crime. Everyday objects become potential storytellers of a past that has moved them. A voice’s echoes, distortions, delays, vibrations and tremulous are all a means of detecting their origin – to hear the place they came from. Tamar Harpaz manipulates perception using optical devices and cinematic mechanisms. Bringing ageing technologies to the point of malfunction, she uses their failure as a driving force in her work.’

 

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Nobuko Tsuchiya Brief History of Time, 2015
‘Tsuchiya’s precise, poetic works reflect her instincts as an artist and convey a sense of longing for the future that almost resembles a scene from a sci-fi novel. Her eccentric work not only seeks freedom from any rationale, but also rebels against restrictions that the world puts in front of her.’

 

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Christoph De Boeck timecodematter, 2009
‘In the interactive installation timecodematter the visitor enters an arena that is bordered with vibrating sheets of massive steel. The steel objects are pulsating with low frequencies and they react to the approach of persons. The acoustic energy in this installation is both penetrating and intangible: the resonant properties of twelve different steel sheets respond to the low frequencies and produce a conjuring effect.’

 

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Aernoudt Jacobs PHOTOPHON, 2014
‘PHOTOPHON is based on the photoacoustic principle that was discovered at the end of the 19th century by Alexander Graham Bell. According to this principle, a strong light source can be converted into an acoustic wave due to absorption and thermal excitation. Bell’s research shows that any material comes with a sonority that will be revealed by hitting it with a strong beam of light. The installation consists of different photophonic objects playing tones created by strong light beams through a rotating disc. With PHOTOPHON Jacobs intends to provide a certain kind of musicality, though in the form of an installation, not of a playable instrument.’

 

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Alona Rodeh Neither Day nor Night, 2013
‘Moving lights, synchronized with an adaptation of Erik Satie’s 1888 “Gymnopédie #1,” reveal a wooden stage and a gleaming curtain, resembling an old-fashioned dance hall or a deserted theater out of a David Lynch film. The conscious amalgamation of cinematic influences leaves the room laden with expectation. The viewer will decide how the scene unravels: Will the stage be left untouched, as an autonomous work, or will it become a platform for self-display?’

 

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Cinthia Marcelle TO COME TO, 2009
‘One JCB machine goes through the form of an infinite symbol transporting dirt from one side to the other and then repeats the movement from that side back to the other, like a kind of enlarged sand filled hour glass that never stops rotating.’

 

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Anne-F Jacques FLUID STATES, 2016
“Fluid States” is composed of a small population of contraptions and devices, put in motion by motors and interacting with one another. The said contraptions generate sound through friction, bouncing, acceleration and electrical vibrations. Anne-F Jacques is a sound artist based in Montreal, Canada. She is interested in amplification, erratic sound reproduction devices and construction of various contraptions and idiosyncratic systems. Her particular focus is on low technology, trivial objects and unpolished sounds. She is also involved with Crustacés Tapes, a postal sound distribution project.’

 

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Yann Leguay Test Tone, 2013
‘Brussels based sound artist. Yann Leguay is a true media saboteur. He seeks to turn reality in on itself using basic means in the form of objects, videos or during installations and performances involving the materiality of sound and data storage. His flagrant disregard for the accepted norms of audio behaviour appropriates industrial machinery and other DIY tools for the playback of audio media: using an angle grinder to perform the live destruction of an audio signal or to playback a CD at dizzying speed. His release activity is equally deviant, releasing a 7” single without a central hole and a record composed from recordings of vinyl being scratched by scalpel. His Phonotopy label proposes a conceptual approach to recording media and he curates the DRIFT series on the Artkillart label which overlays several grooves onto a single record, causing randomised playback.’

 

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Rolf Julius why pink, why yellow, 2001
why pink, why yellow is the installation of a five-channel music composition emitted from a floor arrangement of speakers, Japanese tea bowls, digital prints and small panes of glass. The speakers are placed under the glass and within the bowls, making their contents, red and black powder pigments and viscous pink hand soap, jump and shift with the vibrations. The music is comprised mostly of computer altered natural sounds played via an array of portable CD players, left exposed as part of the installation.’

 

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Gaëtan Rusquet Back and forth, 2018
‘At first Back And Forth appears to approach the balloon in all of its innocence as a game develops between Rusquet and the increasing number of squeaking, twisting and floating forms. Soon a suggestion of the human body, of limbs and organs, of the inside popping out, shapes the performance and something altogether more unsettling is achieved.’

 

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Lawrence Malstaf Nemo Observatorium, 2015
‘Styrofoam particles are blown around in a big transparent PVC cylinder by five strong fans. Visitors can take place on the armchair in the middle of the whirlpool or observe from the outside one at a time. On the chair, in the eye of the storm it is calm and safe. Spectacular at first sight, this installation turns out to mesmerise like a kind of meditation machine. One can follow the seemingly cyclic patterns, focus on the different layers of 3D pixels or listen to its waterfall sound. One could call it a training device, challenging the visitor to stay centred and find peace in a fast changing environment. After a while the space seems to expand and one’s sense of time deludes.’

 

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Dominique Petitgand Quelqu’un est tombé, 1993
‘Inside the abbey, Petitgand layers a collection of sounds across three rooms for Quelqu’un est tombé, 1993/2009. Four speakers in the first and largest room play an irregular progression of short, loud noises, while the second, much smaller room echoes with long phrases of music. In the third room, the only one that is fully soundproofed, five different voices are heard. “Je marche, je trébuche, je tombe” (I walk, I trip, I fall), one of the young voices repeats. Another calls out, “Quelqu’un est tombé.” The narrative, like the melodies elsewhere in Petitgand’s work, is unresolved but rich with allusions to shared expressions, emotions, and actions.’

 

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Davide Tidoni EXAGGERATED FOOTSTEPS, 2015
‘This is me walking through different rooms of the same building. I compare the acoustic response of each room by means of a pair of metal plates that I attached to the sole of my shoes.’

 

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Katerina Undo Creatures Cluster, 2014
Creatures Cluster  is an endless combination of living members, composed by miniature robots that live autonomously, receiving their energy from solar cells and generating a variety of soft sounds and tiny movements. The Creatures are developed with two simple analogue oscillator circuits, inspired from the nervous system of organisms. Every module is special and unique and it is impossible to build exact equal. According to the interaction that occurs between them, clusters/systems are developed that organically interact with each other in a reciprocal way. The sculptural and auditory nature of the synthesis — radiation of the chaotic — refers to the functioning of a nervous system, as well as to systems of social cooperation and alliances.’

 

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Christian Skjødt The Receiver, 2019
‘Functioning as a live observatory, The Receiver is a new site-specific sound installation situated in an abandoned silo at the harbour front of Struer. The installed radio telescope (Ø:3m) consists of a specialised antenna and receiver, operating in the microwave region of the radio frequency portion of the electromagnetic spectrum. The telescope follows the Sun, as Earth rotates around it, and receives electromagnetic radiation that has traveled the 150 million km from the Sun to planet Earth. This energy is the source material of the immersive sonic environment created in the silo. Herein the frequency spectrum of the sound can be experienced when travelling upwards in the 45 meter tall building, moving from low to high frequency, as crossover filters split up the sounds, covering and slightly exceeding the lower and upper limit of the hearing capacities of humans. Ranging from infra- to ultrasound, the material is conveyed by custom made loudspeakers optimised for the specific frequency range.’

 

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Lyota Yagi Vinyl, 2020
‘Lyota Yagi produces music records out of ice to be played on a turntable, allowing the audience to experience the transformations of sound and shape as they melt.’

 

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Haroon Mirza reality is somehow what we expect it to be, 2018
‘Involving smart sampling, sometimes through collaboration with other artists, Mirza’s practice overall is characterised by a knowing eclecticism and sheer physical impact. His (mis)understanding of the nature of human perception – of what and how we see and hear – is demonstrated and combined with countless possibilities of meaning, and so his aesthetic proposition is more to do with messages received than those transmitted, circumscribed by our constitutions, testing the limits of what we can experience and what we think we know.’

 

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Stephen Cornford Binatone Galaxy, 2011
‘An installation for used cassette players which looks on their obsolescence not as an ending, but as an opportunity to reconsider their functional potential. Superseded as playback devices, they become instruments in their own right. Replacing the prerecorded content of each tape with a microphone gives us the chance to listen instead to the rhythmic and resonant properties of these once ubiquitous plastic shells. Binatone Galaxy brings the framework within which a generation purchased their favourite records to the centre of attention, revealing the acoustics of the cassette and the voices of the machines themselves.’

 

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Bram Vreven Shape(less)?, 2018
‘As a former jazz musician, Bram Vreven has been making sound installations since 1998. His installations contrast acoustic and electronic sounds in a refined way. Silence has gradually been gaining an important role in his work. A number of his installations make forceful movements, but hardly produce any sound or no sound at all. This silent movement has become one of Vreven’s leitmotivs.’

 

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Chelpa Ferro Totoro, 2008-09
‘In this installation, the group, formed by Barrão, Luiz Zerbini and Sergio Mekler presents a musical programme in big sound speakers that go up and down, in a continuous movement, during 8 hours, provoking different hearings in each level.’

 

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Muku Kobayashi Take no Hikui-Ki no Take wa Hikui, 2016
‘The sound installation is wooden-crafted with polished elements. The devices move with smooth mechanical movements to look almost unreal, creating a cinematic sound. They generate various types of sounds, and possibly noise, transmitted to horn speakers. They are operated automatically and perfectly integrated, both in aesthetics and design, with old analogue equipment such as VU meters or audio oscillators.’

 

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Tristan Perich 1-Bit Symphony, 2010
‘Tristan Perich’s 1-Bit Symphony is an electronic composition in five movements on a single microchip. Though housed in a CD jewel case like his first circuit album (1-Bit Music 2004-05), 1-Bit Symphony is not a recording in the traditional sense; it literally “performs” its music live when turned on. A complete electronic circuit—programmed by the artist and assembled by hand—plays the music through a headphone jack mounted into the case itself.’

 

 

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p.s. Hey. ** Shane Jesse Christmass, Hey, man. Me either. Have I done a Melville Day? Maybe not. I’ll look into that. Thanks for the link. I’m on it. Everyone, A new slice of writing by the mighty Shane Jesse Christmass is yours to read on the recently highlighted site Selffuck, and that’s your cue to click this. Thanks too for the direct route to Dale’s book. I don’t know what the ’50th anniversary of Eden Eden Eden thing’ is, so I guess not? ** G, Howdy, G. I’m happy his films look tasty. They are, I say. How’s stuff? My toe is being very stubbornly irksome, but it’s doable in a pinch. Bon day! ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. That’s a good one, for sure: ‘BtK’. ** _Black_Acrylic, Uh, hm, family viewing … well, your family is not the typical family, so … possibly? Very stylish. Do your parents appreciate high stylishness? Your excitement is most highly justified, sir. ** Tosh Berman, Hey, T. Oh, for a European outlet of The Criterion Channel, sigh. Hope you’re in tip-top shape. ** Misanthrope, Check ’em out. Actually, and granted I’m a revising/ rewriting/ polishing / typo-hunting nerd, but you don’t need to convince me of the funness. I’m already there. ** Kristopher, Hi, Kristopher. Very nice to meet you, and thank you entering this place. Yeah, I’m in agreement with you on Suzuki, no surprise. I actually haven’t seen any of the three films you recommend, so my day’s internet hunting trip is preordained. Thanks a lot. And I hope this goes without saying: please hang out in here anytime you like. What are you up to? ** wolf, Wowie Zowie Wolf! I’ve been thinking about you over there, buddy. Things are pretty okay. Quiet, kind of a lonely August, but it’s toast now. I think your bet that I would like that kimchi is well placed. Kimchi Day, hm, that would be an interesting challenge. I’ll endeavour to be up to it. The ‘thing’, if you meant the pandemic-related stuff, isn’t really boring me, no. My pragmatism is doing its job, and, you know, we’re still pretty free over here for the moment. I got very bored of everyone I know having vacated Paris for most of August. That got really old. But most of the buds are back or close to, so I’m all right. I am dying to travel. I am happy that Z. and I get to go to Marseilles for a few days at least. Maybe France will be easily enterable again soon. ‘Praying’ for that on my end. Your pandemic stuff is still very messy isn’t it? I don’t even know anymore. Okay, yeah, I guess it is getting very boring, you’re right. Big, big love! ** Steve Erickson, I liked your new track. I agree about ‘Pistol Opera’. It’s great. And what a good title. I liked ‘Drive’ too. And only ‘Drive’. It was efficient. An interest/gift he seems to have lost. ** Right. Should you so choose, you will have a lot of fun and inspiration-related kind of pleasure vis-a-vis your eyes and ears if you give the array I present to you today a decent going over. Up to you, though. See you tomorrow.

Seijun Suzuki Day

 

“To experience a film by Japanese B-movie visionary Seijun Suzuki is to experience Japanese cinema in all its frenzied, voluptuous excess.” — Manohla Dargis

‘In a career spanning nearly five decades, Seijun Suzuki amassed a body of work ranging from B-movie potboilers to beguiling metaphysical mysteries. On the occasion of the publication of Tom Vick’s new book Time and Place are Nonsense: The Films of Seijun Suzuki, the Film Society presents a retrospective of Suzuki’s films, ranging from his greatest hits to a selection of seldom-seen rarities.

‘Suzuki first became famous when he was fired by Nikkatsu Studios for making films that, as he put it, “made no sense and made no money.” But it was his freewheeling approach and audacious experimentation that gained Suzuki a cult following in Japan and abroad. Suzuki’s job at Nikkatsu was to make B movies out of scripts that were assigned to him. In the mid-1960s, with dozens such films under his belt, Suzuki’s restlessness began to come through as he and his collaborators, art director Takeo Kimura and cinematographers Shigeyoshi Mine and Kazue Nagatsuka, began experimenting with the assigned material. These films established Suzuki as a stylistic innovator working within—and rebelling against—the commercial constraints of B-movie studio work.

‘In the 1980s, Suzuki reinvented himself as an independent filmmaker. Freed from the commercial obligations of studio work, he elected to indulge his passion for the Taisho era (1912–26), a brief period of Japanese history that has been likened to Europe’s Belle Époque and America’s Roaring Twenties. Though not linked by plot, these three films—Zigeunerweisen, Kagero-za, and Yumeji—embody the hedonistic cultural atmosphere, blend of Eastern and Western art and fashion, and political extremes of the 1920s, infused with Suzuki’s own eccentric vision of the time

‘In the 1990s, a traveling retrospective brought long-overdue attention to Suzuki’s films in the United States and Europe. A new generation of devotees, most notably Jim Jarmusch and Quentin Tarantino, praised Suzuki in the press and referenced his work in their films. Perhaps inspired by this newfound attention, Suzuki returned to filmmaking after another decade-long absence, making two films—Pistol Opera and Princess Raccoon—that look back on his career while advancing it with new technology.’ — Film Inc.

 

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Stills










































































 

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Further

Seijun Suzuki @ IMDb
SS @ The Criterion Collection
Action and Anarchy: The Films of Seijun Suzuki
SS @ MUBI
SS @ Letterboxd
SS @ Senses of Cinema
Seijun Suzuki obituary
From Genre Flick to Art Film: Seijun Suzuki’s Branded to Kill and Pistol Opera
Time and Place Are Nonsense: The Films of Seijun Suzuki
Goodbye, Seijun Suzuki
SEIJUN SUZUKI (1923–2017)
Seijun Suzuki, Director Of Delirious Thrillers, Dies At Age 93
The Anarchic Japanese Auteur Who Inspired Quentin Tarantino and Jim Jarmusch
An introductory guide into the world of Seijun Suzuki films
BRANDED TO KILL: JAPANESE CULT DIRECTOR SEIJUN SUZUKI’S DEEPEST CUTS
Seijun Suzuki, an Absurdist Auteur in Hired-Gun Clothing
THE ANTI-COMMERCIAL ODYSSEY OF SEIJUN SUZUKI’S TAISHO TRILOGY
An Ecstatic Legacy: The Psychedelic Noir of Seijun Suzuki
Losing the Plot in the Films of Seijun Suzuki
Rep Diary: Seijun Suzuki
The Visionary Nonsense (and Sneaky Emotion) of Seijun Suzuki
The Silencing of Seijun Suzuki

 

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Extra


An interview with Suzuki Seijun

 

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Interview

 

What kind of attraction does the action genre, or more specifically the yakuza genre, hold for you?

It’s not really the genre I’m interested in, but the character of the yakuza or a killer. They wander between life and death. As a character they are more interesting than normal people. They live very near death, so we can describe how they die, where they die, and when they die. You have a wider range of possibilities than you otherwise would if you were depicting a normal person.

That reminds of what one director once told me about his reason for making gangster films. He said that gangsters’ lives are more intense, because their lives are so short. You’re able to show the whole range of human emotion in a shorter period of time and in a more extreme way than with regular people.

I think more simple than that. (laughs)

The visuals in your films are often described as, or compared to, pop art. Do you feel any kind of connection with pop art or any other artistic or aesthetic movement?

When I shoot a film, I often look at pictures, drawings and paintings. Not just pop art, but Japanese pictures as well. The reason is because I want to see the form of these pictures, especially in their depiction of women. I don’t really understand why it’s called pop art in my case. Maybe the result of this way of working turns out to be pop art, but I don’t intend to make it that. It just turns out to be like pop art.

To be honest, the choice of colours and such, there isn’t much significance to them. Generally, a movie is composed of many elements that make a strong impression on the viewer. I call them tricks. I think colour is one of those tricks.

How did you enjoy working with CGI? Those moments fit in very well, their artificial nature mixes well with your visual approach.

I believe that a movie is a handmade thing, so I don’t like new technology so much. If you create a colour on the set, it looks very nice, but if you make it afterwards by computer, then for me it’s something fake. But I’ve experienced for the first time on this film that computer technology can actually be quite useful.

The use of Cinemascope is very typical of your films from the 1960s. So why did you decide to shoot Pistol Opera in the 1.33:1 (or 4:3) ratio? That’s hardly done these days anymore.

It was the idea of the director of photography to use the standard size ratio. He felt that in this format every part of the screen would equally dense with colour.

The music by Kazufumi Kodama has a lot of variety and a lot of influences to it, including jazz and ska.

I use music in moments where the audience might become bored. In this situation if the audience hears a lot of variety in the music, rather than one type, maybe it’s more fun and not so boring for them. So that’s why I did it this way.

Earlier this year, there were two major retrospectives of your work in cinemas in Japan. One of those, the bigger one, was created by Nikkatsu. Does it feel like a vindication of sorts? Because they were the studio that fired you in the 1960s. Do you think: “Now they finally realise that I did make good films”?

(laughs) The best thing for a movie is to have a lot of people come to see it when it’s released. But back then my films weren’t so successful. Now, thirty years later, a lot of young people come to see my films. So either my films were too early or your generation came too late. Either way, the success is coming too late (laughs).

During the 50s and 60s you made a lot of films, sometimes four a year. The last few decades you have been making a lot fewer films. Would you like to work more than you’ve done in recent years?

No (laughs). Because I’m old. To be a film director, the first, second, and third priority is to have physical strength. It’s not a matter of knowledge or brains.

But a lot of Japanese directors, such as Kinji Fukasaku and Shohei Imamura, who are in their 70s have been making films recently that are very energetic and very dynamic.

It’s roujin power! (laughs) Old people’s power! It’s something that’s very happening in Japan recently. So that must be it (laughs).

Your speed of making films in those days, was that because you wanted to, or because of how the industry was structured, the program pictures structure.

I was one of the Nikkatsu contract directors, so it was the company that made me direct films at this pace. Like you said, the program pictures.

Did you enjoy working at this pace?

It was more of a job than getting any kind of enjoyment out of making a film.

Do you enjoy it more now that you make fewer films?

Right now, it’s still a struggle to me. Maybe in a few more years I will be able to enjoy making a film. If it becomes more like a hobby, it’s also more enjoyable to make a film. But it’s very hard to achieve that state, for it to become like a hobby. You need the strength (laughs).

I was told that in the structure of program pictures, films were divided into degrees of importance. The A movie was most important to the studio, so it was closely monitored and controlled. The B movie was a little bit less important to them and the C movie was not important at all. But because nobody cared about him, the C director had the most freedom and he would often make the most interesting film of the three. Which level were your films on and did you benefit from this freedom?

Since I was working for a company, I couldn’t deviate too much from the company’s course. But because my films were in the B category, I had a wider range than an A director. Even if it went off a little bit, it wouldn’t be too much of a problem with them. So in that sense I had a little bit of freedom. More than the A directors.

Clearly you didn’t have that much freedom because a few years later you were fired by Nikkatsu. Then you didn’t make any films for ten years until Story of Sorrow and Sadness (Hishu Monogatari, 1977). What did you do in those ten years? I heard you were involved in anime at some point. You were also a witness in the obscenity trial of Nagisa Oshima’s In the Realm of the Senses, I believe.

I shot commercials, I was involved in animation, the Lupin series. And yes, I was a defence witness for Oshima.

What was your defence argument at the time?

Oh! Well, I hardly remember. (long silence) If you have a book that’s prohibited and individual words are crossed out to censor it, which happened in Japan before the war, the book would lose all its meaning. With the film, the same argument applied. That is what happened to In the Realm of the Senses. So I said that if you take out those scenes, cross them out, the film wouldn’t make sense. It was exactly like the old system of censorship that we had before the war.

In the last ten years or so you also made a number of acting appearances, in particular in Cold Fever, by Icelandic director Fridrik Thor Fridriksson. How did that come about?

When you become over 60, everything you do is okay with everyone. You can do whatever you want. That’s why I started acting. I was invited to be an actor in Cold Fever, so I decided to do it.

Did you enjoy being an actor?

(laughs) It’s better than doing nothing at home! It’s exciting and also, it gives you money (laughs).

Do you look at actors differently since having acted yourself?

I was mainly acting on TV. I was not a professional actor, more like a semi-pro, so my experiences as an actor are not so important. I’m not a perfect actor, but I also don’t surrender completely to the director. I would do what I could, but never go too far from the director’s wishes and I would never talk back to him. When I direct, I always make sure that actors don’t talk back to me. So I just used the same attitude that I always expect from my own actors.

Cold Fever also starred Masatoshi Nagase, who is in Pistol Opera. Any connection between the two or is it a coincidence?

There’s no relation between the two, no.

I believe your next project is going to be a short film that you will be shooting in Paris, starring Sayoko Yamaguchi again. Could you tell how that came about?

The producers invited me to be one of the directors for that project, which is a sort of omnibus film. My sequence is only going to be six minutes long before another director takes over. I believe there are twenty different directors involved.

Why did you accept?

Because my producer forced me to do it! (laughs). Ogura-san kept telling me over and over to accept the offer.

 

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21 of Seijun Suzuki’s 58 films

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Underworld Beauty (1958)
Underworld Beauty introduces a theme Suzuki would revisit often: the lone wolf attempting to make amends for his past, a debt he’s usually unable to repay. Miyamoto (Michitaro Mizushima), just out of prison, wants to sell diamonds he has stashed away, in order to pay back his friend Mihara (Hideaki Nitani), who took a bullet for him. After the deal goes bad, Miyamoto’s efforts to recover the gems are thwarted at every turn, by his backstabbing former boss; by Akiko (Mari Shiraki), Mihara’s wild sister; and by Arita (Shinsuke Ashida), her artist boyfriend, who swipes the diamonds out from under everyone’s noses. The film is saved by the starkness of its noir-ish cinematography, and Suzuki’s marvelously staged set pieces. Scenes in a mannequin factory recall the final moments of Stanley Kubrick’s debut film, Killer’s Kiss, as the camera pans the eerie fake body parts that litter Arita’s studio, echoing the truly damaged human beings that occupy the movie’s landscape.’ — Pop Matters


the entirety

 

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The Boy Who Came Back (1958)
‘Seijun Suzuki imbues this youth melodrama, influenced by Rebel Without A Cause, with palpable subtext and visceral violence. An early work but Suzuki is already a master of CinemaScope composition and the tracking shot. He also propels the action with clever edits, such as the scene in the nightclub where he shows Keiko (Sachiko Hidari) getting drunk by the steady build of empty pint glasses on a table. Lead delinquent, Akira Kobayashi, unsubtly plays to the melodrama, and there is an unrequited love triangle subplot which is only unsatisfying because Suzuki builds up the emotional tension so well. But it goes beyond the teen melodrama template with its location sequences showing Tokyo bustling after the end of the American Occupation, and the consequences of the new prosperity and American pop culture undermining traditional Japanese life. Watch for a young Joe Shishido in a supporting role as the delinquent with no redeeming features.’ — Silversaxophone


the entirety

 

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Voice Without a Shadow (1958)
‘Seijun Suzuki might be best remembered for his surrealist pop art masterpieces from the late sixties or his even less comprehensible art films which followed his return to directing after settling his dispute with Nikkatsu, but everyone’s got to start somewhere and it comes as something of a relief to know that Suzuki was perfectly capable of making a straightforward movie if he wanted to. Voice Without a Shadow (影なき声, Kagenaki Koe) is exactly what it sounds like – a fifties style, US inspired noir however, Suzuki adds his usual flourishes and manages to wrong foot us pretty much the whole way through so that we never end up where we thought it was that we were going.’ — Windows on the World


Trailer

 

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Age of Nudity (1959)
‘One of the many wayward youth films Seijun Suzuki did early on his career. As usual Age of Nudity doesn’t quite have the weight of some of similar films from the era, but Suzuki shows great empathy for his young characters. Terrific scope framing and only 53 minutes long.’ — Filipe Furtado


the entirety

 

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Take Aim at the Police Van (1960)
‘At the beginning of Seijun Suzuki’s taut and twisty whodunit, a prison truck is attacked and a convict inside murdered. The penitentiary guard on duty, Daijiro (Michitaro Mizushima), is accused of negligence and suspended, only to take it upon himself to track down the killers.’ — The Criterion Channel


Excerpt

 

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Everything Goes Wrong (1960)
‘Seijun Suzuki’s film, released the same year as Oshima’s Cruel Story of Youth, might not be as polished or thematically resonant, but there’s something about its unvarnished, fly-by-the-seat-of-its-pants quality that feels even more vital to the true experience of youth. Suzuki was coming at this as an outsider, already in his late-30s, but seems, even from a distant, totally in touch with the volatile emotions of youth.’ — Criterion Cast


Trailer

 

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Tokyo Knights (1961)
‘TOKYO KNIGHTS is a high point in the first five years of director Seijun Suzuki’s career within Nikkatsu’s “Borderless Action” series. Drawing inspiration from Hollywood and the French New Wave, Suzuki’s works for Nikkatsu blended East and West, movie-fueled fantasies and gritty realities of life in postwar Japan. Here, we follow a college student who takes over the family business in the field of organized crime…’ — Nightlight Cinema


Trailer

 

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The Wind-of-Youth Group Crosses the Mountain Pass (1961)
‘What better subject for Seijun Suzuki’s first foray into colour film than the carnival? The unlikely choice of narrative for Japan’s master of the gangster genre is but one of the quirks that make 1961’s The Wind-of-Youth Group Crosses the Mountain Pass (Tôge o wateru wakai kaze) a standout in the director’s filmography. While it’s a far cry from the slick and violent later works, the film is, if nothing else, a love letter to Japan’s vibrant, wild, and unique festival culture.’ — Eastern Kicks


Trailer

 

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Teenage Yakuza (1962)
Teenage Yakuza is middling work from the master Seijun Suzuki during his middling period. Within a year he’d be entering his most fertile period with truly creative work like Youth of the Beast, Gate of Flesh, and Kanto Wanderer, but for the moment he was still making programmatic gangster and youth flicks for Nikkatsu.’ — Cinema_Strikes


the entirety

 

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Youth of the Beast (1963)
‘When a mysterious stranger muscles into two rival yakuza gangs, Tokyo’s underworld explodes with violence. Youth of the Beast (Yaju no Seishun) was a breakthrough for director Seijun Suzuki, introducing the flamboyant colors, hallucinatory images, and striking compositions that would become his trademark.’ — The Criterion Collection


Trailer


Excerpt

 

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The Incorrigible (1963)
‘Nobody does teen melodrama quite like Seijun Suzuki. This is mostly a by-the-numbers delinquency flick but with a third act revelation that gives the conclusion an unearned poignancy. I’ll even give Suzuki credit for the young boy’s recollection of losing his virginity. It’s shot and edited in a disjointed, dreamlike way that makes you doubt the reliability of the author.’ — HotDonkeyBear


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Kanto Wanderer (1963)
‘Visually Kanto Wanderer owes much to the style of Kabuki theatre, starting with Katsuta’s sharply painted, gigantic eyebrows. In keeping with the loose allowances of borderless action, Katsuta is, inexplicably, the only character with such garish makeup and yet his eyebrows somehow fall into place in a film with an emotional tone and colour scheme worthy of a Douglas Sirk melodrama. As Suzuki explained to Mark Schilling, “in Kabuki they show everything at once. The interest is in seeing where and how the actors enter and exit […]. The continuity comes from the unity of atmosphere.” For further evidence of Suzuki’s appreciation for Kabuki staging, one need only look to the astonishing depth-of-field in certain scenes in Kanto Wanderer. Narrow streets and alleyways abound in the outdoor scenes, leading out, upward and away from the action in the foreground. For a man who constantly had to direct “on the fly” with minimal resources at hand, Suzuki’s compositions are meticulous. In this film, most of Suzuki’s “special effects” – changes in colour and light; swinging overhead lamps or colourful spotlights – occur in front of the camera in real-time, creating both a theatrical aesthetic and an urgent sense of time passing. The presence of an unabashed spectacle in front of the camera and Suzuki behind it is palpable, particularly during specific scenes of wordless dramatic import.’ — Senses of Cinema


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Gate of Flesh (1964)
‘In the shady black markets and bombed-out hovels of post–World War II Tokyo, a tough band of prostitutes eke out a dog-eat-dog existence, maintaining tenuous friendships and a semblance of order in a world of chaos. But when a renegade ex-soldier stumbles into their midst, lusts and loyalties clash, with tragic results. With Gate of Flesh, visionary director Seijun Suzuki delivers a whirlwind of social critique and pulp drama, shot through with brilliant colors and raw emotions.’ — The Criterion Collection


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Story of a Prostitute (1965)
‘Volunteering as a “comfort woman” on the Manchurian front, where she is expected to service hundreds of soldiers, Harumi is commandeered by the brutal Lieutenant Narita but falls for the sensitive Mikami, Narita’s direct subordinate. Seijun Suzuki’s Story of a Prostitute is a tragic love story as well as a rule-bending take on a popular Taijiro Tamura novel, challenging military and fraternal codes of honor, as seen through Harumi’s eyes.’ — The Criterion Collection

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Tattooed Life (1965)
Tattooed Life begins with a parasol wielding Yakuza assassin attacking a rickshaw. It almost looks like feudal Japan until somebody pulls a gun and we’re reminded that it’s the 20th century. Post-shooting, the assassin delivers his bounty to his brother (to pay for his art school education) before getting ambushed in one of the few rickshaw-jacking incidents in film history, and being rescued by his art-student brother. In the aftermath, one brother is marked for death by the Yakuza, and the other brother won’t go to art school with blood on his hands, so they decide the perfect way to deal with such hardships is to become fugitive construction workers in northern Japan . And why not?’ — letterboxd


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Tokyo Drifter (1966)
‘In this jazzy gangster film, reformed killer Tetsu’s attempt to go straight is thwarted when his former cohorts call him back to Tokyo to help battle a rival gang. Director Seijun Suzuki’s onslaught of stylized violence and trippy colors is equal parts Russ Meyer, Samuel Fuller, and Nagisa Oshima—an anything-goes, in-your-face rampage. Tokyo Drifter is a delirious highlight of the brilliantly excessive Japanese cinema of the sixties.’ — The Criterion Collection


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Branded to Kill (1967)
‘Suzuki took the conventions of the Japanese crime film and fashioned them into something authentically strange and disturbing. No moral reflex apologises for the carnage, nor is there a thematic counterweight in the form of intense male bonding, as in the heroic bloodshed genre that flourished in Hong Kong in the 1980s. Doubtless this is why the film has found favour with latter day aesthetes of violence such as Tarantino. Indeed, the film shares many of the formal and thematic concerns of his beloved Spaghetti Western. But unlike Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs, Suzuki’s film did not find an instant audience of slavering fan boys on its release. Branded to Kill’s stature grew over the years, while Suzuki was inactive as a director for a decade, due to his freewheeling approach to genre material. But modern seekers of termite art and crazed, unqualified violence will find much to admire in this exhilarating film.’ — John A. Riley


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Zigeunerweisen (1980)
‘The first of Suzuki’s Taishō Period (1912-1926) Trilogy, Zigeunerweisen flows like a river of blood, calmly but disturbing at the same time. A psychological surreal, dark story full of allusions to ghosts both alive and dead with brief instances of kaleidoscopic horror and madness mainly mystifying death and other condemnable perversions, Suzuki’s new branch of poetic experimentation is one strong psychological examination of marital relationships and extramarital affairs while discussing, by segments, transcendent terms such as life, mortality and Sarasate’s violin composition. Haunting and spiritually arresting with an unforgettable closure, Zigeunerweisen marks the director’s trajectory towards more kaleidoscopic, metaphysical reflections through a style completely new to Suzuki followers but incredibly rewarding when read between lines.’ — Edgar Cochran


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Kagero-za (1981)
‘This is even more oblique than Zigeunerweisen, using a fairly simple love triangle as the jumping off point for a complicated, messy exploration of Westernization, eroticism, and Japan’s Taisho period. Suzuki pulls out and refines all of the tricks from his Nikkatsu days, hiding all sorts of perversity inside the shell of a love story. The final result is even more poetic and disorienting than its predecessor, as our fictional characters are rendered as characters in a children’s theatre production that comes crashing down at the moment of emotional release.’ — Evan


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Capone Cries A Lot (1985)
‘In this surreal comic confection, a traditional naniwa-bushi singer moves to Prohibition-era San Francisco. He goes in search of Al Capone, whom he mistakenly believes is president, hoping to impress the gangster with his singing and popularize the art form in the States. Filmed mostly in an abandoned amusement park in Japan, Suzuki’s vision of 1920s America is an anarchic collage of pop culture images, from cowboys to Charlie Chaplin. One reason Capone is so rarely seen is that it reflects the racial attitudes of the time in which it is set by including, for example, a minstrel band in blackface. Such discomfiting images are balanced by scenes featuring an actual African American jazz ensemble that joins the film’s hero in jam sessions mixing blues, jazz, and naniwa-bushi.’ — Harvard Film Archive


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Yumeji (1991)
‘YUMEJI is the final film in youth-gone-berserk auteur Seijun Suzuki’s acclaimed TAISHO TRILOGY. Sensual and absurdist, it spins a ghost story around the character and work of real-life painter and poet Yumeji Takehisa (1884-1934). The eponymous character (conjured by Suzuki as a chronic philanderer and dreamer played by former rock star Kenji Sawada) is plagued with ideals of perfect beauty and the terror of his own demise. He falls in love with women but can never capture their hearts. He is constantly escaping his rivals but can never face them down. As the film opens, Yumeji is on a scenic trip to Kanazawa, where he plans to meet Hikono (Masumi Miyazaki), his lover. Instead, he falls for Tomoyo, a recent widow whose husband, Wakiya (Yoshio Harada), was slain by the murderously jealous Onimatsu. Complications ensue when Wakiya returns from the dead; Onimatsu is understandably distraught. Yumeji is not deterred, however, setting out to seduce Tomoyo while avoiding the rages of Wakiya and Onimatsu as well as a phalanx of ghosts, apparitions and nightmares.’ — Fandor


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p.s. Hey. Marcus Mamourian has written a cool, smart piece about ‘Zac’s Drug Binge’ @ Book & Film Globe if anyone’s interested. Here. ** JM, Hey, J. Oh, my great pleasure. It got huge traffic. Take it easy, and thank you a ton again. ** elizabeth, Hi, elizabeth. Very nice to meet you. Thank you for coming in. Please do so anytime. ** Shane Christmass, It’s the ‘it’ post. Excited to get their books and get to know their thing(s). I’ll try to find ‘Faceless in Nippon’, thanks. I dig your launch idea, duh. Great to find a new force, and that Evan guy sure seems like one. ** David Ehrenstein, Curious image there. I can’t solve that conceptual puzzle right now, but I will. ** Misanthrope, Optimistic but level headed. Seems like the goal. You never, never know. Training hires does sound fun. Were they … trainable and now trained? ** _Black_Acrylic, Morning, Ben. ** Steve Erickson, Hi. Josiah lives in New Zealand, and the press is based in Portland. He’s one of their authors. Everyone, From Steve’s brain to your ears. Steve: ‘I wrote a song today called ,a href=”https://callinamagician.bandcamp.com/track/the-suspended-vocation”>“The Suspended Vocation”. I never understood what suspended chords are till very recently, and I decided to use them in a song, hence the title, but “Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting” and “Three Crowns of the Sailor” will be my next titles! Huh, ‘Antebellum’ sounds very unappetising. What’s up with this grab bag half-assed pomo-wannabe mainstream film crap. Refn, etc. Bleah. I still haven’t been to the movies even though I can. But the annual L’Etrange Festival where ‘LCTG’ had its world premiere just started so that might get me in. Curious to see how the safety/distancing things work since France is very ‘to the letter’ about that stuff. ** Okay. Today I hand the blog over to the juicy oeuvre of Seijun Suzuki. Do you know his films? Pretty cool stuff, I must say. Urging you to have a longish look and taste. See you tomorrow.

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