Title:Violent Cop By: Beat Takeshi Kitano Released by: Shochiku-Fuji Company Released on: 2000 Rating (out of 10): 9 Date: 07/18/2001
Beat Takeshi Kitano, Susumu Terajima
Beat Takeshi Kitano's Violent Cop
Japanese Renaissance man Beat Takeshi Kitano is probably the greatest filmmaker working today that you’ve never heard of. This gifted auteur is one of the biggest media stars in Japan, where he has published novels, been part of a successful comedy duo, appears on numerous television programs, paints, and with the release of Violent Cop in 1989, became arguably the most important Japanese filmmaker since Akira Kurosawa.
Yet, for all of his success in his homeland, Takeshi remains mostly unknown to American audiences. Hardcore cinephiles (like me) know and revere his work, but most mainstream film fans remain ignorant to the charms of the Takeshi oeuvre. That's a tragedy, since even the weakest of Beat Takeshi’s films is infinitely superior to 99 percent of the films released by the Hollywood studio system each year.
Originally only slated to act in Violent Cop, Takeshi was offered the directorial duties when famed filmmaker Kinji Fukasaku dropped out of the production. This event could truly be viewed as serendipitous; Japanese cinema has never been the same since.
Takeshi plays detective Azuma, a renegade cop taken straight from the Dirty Harry Callahan mold. Callahan and his American counterparts often work outside the confines of the system in order to right the wrongs that the system is incapable of correcting. Azuma, however, appears only to be motivated by indifference and blinding rage.
Takeshi shows us this early on, when a group of young punks beats up a homeless man. Azuma witnesses the event, follows one of the boys home, proceeds to smack the crap out of him, then tells him to be sure and turn himself in to the authorities in the morning. Azuma doesn’t bring in the delinquent (the way the maverick cops of American action cinema would). Instead, he seems to be pleased with simply beating up the kid and punishing him in his own, unique way.
This isn’t the last time we’ll see Azuma smack around a guilty party. In fact, most of the violence in Violent Cop is the physical kind—beatings, kickings, et cetera—not gunplay.
Azuma and his new rookie partner are called in to investigate the death of a local drug dealer. They follow the trail wherever it leads—including back to their own precinct, where one of Azuma’s dearest friends is found to be working for the Yakuza.
When that friend winds up dead, Azuma goes off the deep end, bound and determined to bring the bad guys down, no matter what the cost. His tactics don’t sit well with his superiors. Soon, he finds himself not only off the case, but off the force. As you might expect, this doesn’t deter him in the slightest.
Now, though all of that sounds a lot like your typical American action film, allow me to assure you that it’s really not. What sets Violent Cop apart from its American counterparts are Takeshi’s unique and distinctively Japanese directorial style and the thematic content that will eventually come to color all of his films.
Even here, in his directorial debut, one can see the flashes of brilliance in Takeshi’s direction. It’s not as pervasive as it is in films like Sonatine or his masterwork, Hana-bi (a/k/a Fireworks), but it’s still there.
Present and accounted for are the laconic, long takes in which scenes start before the action begins (and continue for several beats after the action ends).
The rhythms and cadences are also here; at one point, Azuma sits and watches a game of baseball.
The reflective silences, the sparse dialogue, and the entire Zen style of filmmaking can be found in Violent Cop—it’s fascinating to see this filmmaker in his raw form.
Even more noticeable is the presence of the savage violence that permeates the film. This stark brutality, filmed by Takeshi with as little stylistic flourish as possible, has become one of the director’s trademarks.
Takeshi is the antithesis of John Woo and the Hong Kong action crowd. He makes films filled with violence that is ugly, ferocious, and never glamorized. You’ll not find any two-fisted gunplay here, nor any acrobatics or bullet ballet. Instead, you’ll find violence that plays as real—partially because it’s so harsh and unexpected, partially because it’s as unattractive as the real-life equivalent so often is.
Violent Cop has the distinction of being the one film directed by Takeshi that he didn’t also write—though it's hard to tell that he didn’t write the script.
What often sets Takeshi’s films apart from other action fare is the sublime quality running through all of his work. American films in this genre tend to be testosterone-filled affairs—in the end, might is all that’s right. Takeshi’s films have a more cerebral and philosophical tone to them, one that allows them to transcend the constraints of the action genre.
We witness this cerebral quality through the main subplot of Violent Cop. Azuma is responsible for taking care of his mentally unstable sister. It’s here, in these scenes, that we witness the other side of Azuma. The duality of the role takes him from simply being your clichéd maverick cop and gives the character a much-needed third dimension.
This relationship (which is given minimal screentime) serves to illuminate a lot about what makes Azuma’s character tick. It’s here (and only here) that we see the detective’s tender and compassionate side.
Yet we also get the feeling that maybe the violent side of him was born because of his sister. Azuma is extremely protective of her. He beats up a strange man he finds in her bed, and at Violent Cop's climax, he kills the men who rape her. It’s no real stretch to imagine a young Azuma fighting to protect her honor.
These dichotomies—the balancing act between uncontrollable rage and pure pathos—allow Violent Cop (and Hana-bi) to become something more than merely cop-and-Yakuza films. In fact, Hana-bi and Violent Cop could be considered cinematic brothers—or half-brothers, if nothing else.
Hana-bi's Nishi seems like an older, perhaps wiser version of Azuma. Instead of caring for a mentally unstable sister, Nishi cares for a terminally ill wife. Both women have an innocent and childlike quality about them—and both find some sort of salvation at the hands of Takeshi himself.
It’s interesting to view Violent Cop and Hana-bi back-to-back—to see how particular themes recur in Takeshi’s work, and how much he has grown as a filmmaker from the time of Violent Cop’s release to the time of Hana-bi's.
The majority of Takeshi’s films is scored by famed Japanese composer Joe Hisaishi; Violent Cop is a rare exception. Daisaku Kume provides the score here, and much like Hisaishi-san’s soundtracks, it’s very minimal.
Certain pieces of music are used repeatedly, in different scenes, yet they manage to evoke different reactions.
One piece of piano music is used in a scene in which Azuma and his sister are reunited after her stay in a hospital. It appears again later—during a slow-motion sequence in which a man is beaten in the head with a bat (the sequence is followed by a long chase scene). The music works effectively in both instances, a testament to the power of Daisaku’s score.
It’s a shame that more Western audiences aren’t familiar with the work of Beat Takeshi Kitano. His films have a decidedly Japanese flair and approach (which can be disconcerting for Western audiences at first).
These films, however, may be quite rewarding for those with the patience to sit down and acclimate themselves to the Japanese rhythms. In short, if you’re not watching Beat Takeshi’s movies, you’re missing out on some of the best stuff out there.
