World Premier - Flower and Snake

DIR: Ishii Takashi | Japan | 2004 | 115 min.
In Japanese with English subtitles.

International Premier at the 2004 Vancouver International Film Festival

VIFF 2004 hosted a rare opportunity for Vancouver filmgoers to engorge in some Japanese mainstream erotica, most notably in the realm of public theatre. Ishii Takashi’s ambitious adaptation of Dan Oniroku’s famed S-M novel “Flower and Snake” certainly challenges its audience’s comfort with being publicly (and possibly collectively) aroused, and having to witnessing highly graphic portrayals of sexual violence.

On its surface, Flower and Snake seems like a relatively fast-paced, highly graphic, (presumably hetero-male) stimulant that should come with a warning: you will need to stomach highly gratuitous, repetitive nudity, overt female disempowerment, Japanese bondage and dramatizations of sexual violence (common in Japanese erotica) — shot with the seductive visual drama of a Japanese manga-film.

The thing to keep in mind throughout this film is that it is intentionally gratuitous, and more importantly, all dramatization. Despite its S-M theme, there’s very little “hardcore” about it, leaving surprisingly much to the sexual imagination. If you’re wondering about the difference between this extreme erotica and typical North American adult film, the latter is generally unscripted, impromptu and aesthetically similar to reality TV. Ironically, the majority of the film takes place in a secret arena where highly theatrical S-M exploitation-humiliation spectacles are showcased and watched by an anonymous and elite audience (who sometimes participates). Directing the show from a larger-than-life viewscreen, is “master” Tashiro Ippei, played by Ishibashi Renji — whose performance was so convincingly true-to-manga, that it actually competes with all the gratuitous nudity.

Is there a subtext to this film? This is a question often asked by those trying to hide their true motivations for wanting to see this film behind a façade of film-geek rhetoric. When he was asked this question, Fujii Kenjiro (director of Pink Ribbon, a documentary on the history of yet another Japanese cult-film genre known as “pink movies”, also premiering internationally at VIFF this year) paused for a moment and confirmed: “It’s mainstream erotica.” This could be interpreted as meaning that no one (in Japan) really cares about whether there’s ‘subtext’ and, really, you already know what this film is about.

Nonetheless, the film does have a subtext of empowerment. It unfolds as trophy-wife Shizuko (played by Aya Sugimoto), the “star” (or victim) of the private S-M show, gradually loses hope of escape. The experience forcibly transforms Shizuko (and, in the twisted mind of her captors, frees her) from her initially uninspired and prudish self, to a version of herself so mentally removed from the situation that she nearly enjoys her fate. Overwhelmed by guilt for having “lent” his wife to the Yakuza to repay his debts, Shizuko’s businessman husband attempts to buy back her freedom.

This dramatic shift heightens the contrast between Shizuko’s physical restraints and those of the aging (essentially dying) Tashiro Ippei, whose real pursuit is to eyeball some genuine sexual passion from his squeaky wheelchair. Despite being the show’s conductor, he is inescapably bound to his frail body, which limits him to being a spectator as others fulfill his demented fantasies. It’s a strong and comical statement about the male obsession with world domination, which is perhaps motivated by the horror of physical self-imprisonment and sexual depravity.

Moved and inspired by the lovemaking of Shizuko and her husband, the Yakuza boss defies his handicap and has sex with Shizuko himself. This leads to a lethal orgasm, her escape and a very sudden ending. Shizuko asks, “Was this all a dream?”, while the audience asks, “Was that it?” But that was the only disappointment. The two-hour journey through this bizarre and titillating film fantasy left me stunned, and I have to admit, quite smitten. As the lights returned, I was tempted to turn to the person next to me and ask “Was it good for you?” But realized that this was an experience I had just shared with a room full of strangers, which left me a bit embarrassed (and possibly a bit disturbed). On another level, however, in questioning my own public inhibitions, that might very well have been the point.