GRAVEYARD OF HONOUR (1974)
Directed by Kinji Fukasaku
Starring: Tetsuya Watari, Yumi Takagawa
Genre: Yakuza
Running Time: 100mins

Rating:

Ishikawa is a low rate Yakuza with a desire to reach the top. After a series of disrespectful attacks, one of which aimed at his own Godfather, leads to a 10 year exile and a price on his head - Ishikawa returns fuelled by his uncontrollable urge to explode and self-destruct with the aim of leaving an indellible mark on a society consumed by greed and power.

What makes Graveyard of Honour so refreshing, even by today's standards is its richness in detail, and its overwhelming visual power. This is not the story of a man's rise to power as you may be lead to believe, this is the story of a man who never gets anywhere as a result of his uncontrollable violent urges. Based upon the story of Rikio Ishikawa, and set in post-war Japan Fukasaku has filled his film to the brim with social upheaval and searing images that scream from the screen. Adopting the cinematic techniques of French new wave directors such as Goddard and Truffaut, Fukasaku takes us deep into a world cut off from the supposed economically sound Japan, deep into the slums, the ghettos with staccato jump cuts, dizzying off-kilter angles and rampaging handheld battles.

The detailed structure of the Yakuza code is continually fascinating regardless of the fact that as a 21st century viewer we have come to see it all before, Fukasaku has really invested a lot of detail into the community, giving a real sense of a criminal structure existing within the hysteria something which many have emulated since, but failed to match. His raw, uncompromising approach lends what is an admittedly sporadic tale the momentum needed to see Ishikawa's life to the end.

The chaotic attacks on display are incredibly violent, however, they are never shown in full detail. Fukasaku wisely chose to capture these sequences in the confusion and red-mist of its perpetrator, and thus no sooner has he completed his task that he truly realises (as we do with the settling of the camera) the horror that he has created. These moments of chaotic brutality are offset with some hallucinogenic sepia tone cinematography, particularly the dope fuelled Osaka sequence. In a series of jump cuts, Fukasaku skillfully composes the frame as Ishikawa and a prostitute, side by side in the throes of the high resemble mannequins, frozen, lifeless, haggard while in the next bunk a man prays. For them or for himself, the image is certainly a powerful one.

Ishikawa's character (portrayed by Tetsuya Watari in a particularly savage chilling performance) is as complex as they come, a man born of an era wherein the only driving source is money and power and economic stability, he is a direct representation of the chaotic social structure around him.

Furthering his persona is his relationship with Chieko (played in an understated performance by Yumi Takagawa), what starts to be a relationship of force becomes one of dependence, as Chieko becomes not so much a lover to Ishikawa, but more a maternal figurehead. She is his pillar of support, the one constant comfort - his only outlet of emotion other than violence.

However, for all its merits, there are problems with Graveyard of Honour. Most of which come from the aforementioned sporadic nature of the tale. With a life that spans through years undocumented, the film is occasionally fragmented with the timeline blurring as days turn to weeks and years slip by without much if any information regarding Ishikawa's actions. As a result the story slips out of interest and you find yourself as a viewer awaiting the next step to self-destruction he will undoubtedly take, and so the structure becomes formulaic and his unexpected violent outbursts become expected. The edge gets taken away.

Another issue at hand comes with the somewhat outdated approach to certain scenes, particularly in the Graveyard attack. While this scene is visually impressive with its use of slow-motion and concealed violence, it is diluted somewhat by the sound effects that can't help but resemble the Million Dollar Man. I apologise to anyone who views this scene with Lee Majors in mind, however, it is unavoidable to a modern audience.

Casting these superficial problems aside, there is no question of the ferocity with which Fukasaku spits out his film. Telling the tale of Ishikawa while also commenting on the hypocrisy of post-war Japan as it strived to save the economy while losing sight of its social decline, Fukasaku delivers an experience that while flawed in terms of narrative, pulsates with fierce intent.