"I threw away love, for honor. Ah, Tokyo drifter."

 

Tokyo Drifter is so fucking cool. The film's leading man, Tetsu, is a beast in powder blue, with a trigger finger quicker than the jazzy beats that accompany him. He's a lone gunman of Bebop-esque proportions (32 years before Spike Spiegel ever uttered the word "Bang.").     

For me, Tokyo Drifter could be seen as the forerunner of modern anime; a 46 year old living comic book that still looks so unbelievably fresh and new (and a lot hipper than most animes today). Maybe it's the vibrancy of its sets, or the way Tetsu keeps his cool even in the most heated of battles - or even the amalgamation of styles Tokyo Drifter exhibits that makes this film so great. Or maybe it's the daring nature of the film itself - a constant expression of style over narrative that frequently got its director, Seijun Suzuki, in trouble with his studio (so much so that he was eventually fired from Nikkatsu for "incomprehensibly"). Whatever the case may be, Tokyo Drifter remains quite the amazing film; one rather potent in affect and design.   

Like the fantasy horror film Hausu that would come after it (a film I most definitely need to post about), Tokyo Drifter is a beautiful expression of color and excess - a must see for any action aficionado (or any lover of film in general). 

 

Look very carefully and you can see a man holding the purple flare. The budget for Tokyo Drifter was purposely cut back in an attempt to quell Suzuki's excessive ambitions - to which Suzuki responded with a 9mm blast to the senses. A small budget was a perfect way for the film to embrace its pop-aestheticism. The vibrancy of Tokyo Drifter's surfaces obscures the cheapness of its flimsy, depthless sets.

"Knock him down three times, then he'll rage like a hurricane". How is it that the stone-resolved "Phoenix" Tetsu can look like a badass when getting his ass kicked? The answer is simple: even when he's beaten he never really loses. With samurai determination, Tetsu upholds his boss Kurata's declaration of passivity as his clan attempts to go straight - but the beat-down is immediately juxtaposed with a 360 degree volley of stylized gun-play, slicker than any James Bond opening sequence. Tetsu's cool-guy persona is, in part, enacted by his fortuitous will. But in the end, does Tetsu's loyalty adhere to...

...his boss's ambitions...

...or his lust for battle?

Above, Tetsu is shown metaphorically caged by his boss's desires - a boss who is shown before a degraded Roman fresco. Kurata's empire is coming to a close, but the Phoenix will not be dragged down with him.

If you're wearing a solid color, than you're a major player in the film. Before Otsuka is even seen on screen, his presence is so overbearing that the club begins to change color. Suzuki had said that "costume fitting is the beginning of character development" (taken from a brilliant essay by Howard Hampton - included in the Criterion Collection's release of the film), a quote I feel to be quite telling of action-driven narratives. When we think of anime or cartoon or comic book heroes, the first thing we generally think of (or at least, what I tend to think of) is the characters' costumes. Could we possibly imagine a Batman without his cape or mask? Or a Goku without his orange gi or spiky black hair? Even James Bond is just a man who fills a suit. Tokyo Drifter, however, goes beyond using costuming to simply represent a character's presence. Environments take on qualities of characters' clothing, signifying the ever-changing balance of power between Otsuka's clan and Tetsu. Likewise, characters are affected by their surroundings, most notably shown through Tetsu, who is like a chameleon of mise-en-scène. In this way, Tokyo Drifter it is a lot like The Cabinet of Dr Caligari, as it plays on the tension between character emotion and set design.

A dangerous car ride is immediately followed by a date in an arcade. It's times like these that the narrative of Tokyo Drifter becomes a little nonsensical. I've read that Suzuki wanted his film to avoid a focus on character psychology, favoring fast-paced sequences over dramatic interludes. But I think that Suzuki was selling himself short. In the shot above, Chiharu gazes longingly at her lover, while his focus is on the gun. Tetsu will eventually leave Chiharu for the life of a drifter, fulfilling the prophecy of her melancholy song (a song that Chiharu sings at moments throughout the film - or is, at times, whistled by Tetsu. The lyrics can be found at the end of this post).

The conflict between Tetsu and Otsuka is shown through the film's constantly changing colorization. Red and white clash in the above two stills...  

...only for white to come out on top.

Otsuka has finally taken control of the club, casting it into darkness - a view that reflects his arrogant gaze from behind his black glasses.

That is, until the Phoenix makes his return. 

"Just watch, he'll explode any minute." Tetsu in battle is hyper-fluid hurricane - a revolving barrage of gunfire operating on the razor's edge of coolness and precision. Emerging from the tundra, he now dons a suit of white - indicating his purity in combat and resolute determination (he is the white knight of Tokyo). The color black absorbs, while white light emits. An illuminating glow returns to the club as it is liberated from Otsuka's ravenous grip. As more and more men are gunned down, the club becomes brighter and brighter. Otsuka's ubiquitous presence is extinguished with every shot fired.

 

One of the film's final shots, and a strange one at that. How can this shot even make sense in the narrative, or is it even supposed to? Another link I see between Tokyo Drifter and anime can be found in the interplay between fast, action sequences and static, posing shots (a topic I addressed in my post about Akira). There's quite a lot of screen time dedicated to Tetsu, and I think it very bold of Suzuki for showing his love for his character.

Wherever he lives, drifter 
at most, a wandering solitary body 
in the morning somewhere, listen to the wind 
that pretty girl, listen at her breast 
ah, Tokyo drifter

Embarking on a journey that flows without end 
a forgotten rainy night 
in Tokyo which doesn't weep 
a man's life scattered in red 
ah, Tokyo drifter 

The wind blows in solitude 
the moon also shines alone 
I am drifter alone 
I don't know the morning's graveyard 
ah, Tokyo drifter

I need no dreams; if it's a flower, 
flowers scatter, dreams dissolve 
the flower of man scatters after all 
I threw away love, for honor 
ah, Tokyo drifter