Generally
speaking, if you want to understand a nation’s collective angst, you check out
its monster movies. In Japan, that arguably extended to their naughty Pinku
Eiga films. Several prominent directors initially cut their teeth in Japan’s
blue movie trade, but none was as notorious as Koji Wakamatsu. The auteur and his
circle of collaborators and barely paid employees get a relatively evenhanded
treatment in Kazuya Shiraishi’s Dare to Stop Us, which screens during
the 2019 New York Asian Film Festival.
Wakamatsu
was a former real deal yakuza, who became a close ally of the United Red Amy
terrorist group, whose exploits he later chronicled in the surprisingly unflattering
United Red Army. He was also an arrogant blowhard and a terrible boss.
Yet, he could inspire loyalty in his crew and admirers, especially
long-suffering assistant director, Megumi Yoshizumi.
Yoshizumi
will become the tragic heroine of Wakamatsu’s world and Shiraishi’s film, learning
to tune out the sex scenes and sexism with the help of booze. Rather than Wakamatsu,
the most sympathetic male figure is Masao Adachi, his frequent screenwriter
collaborator and an auteurist filmmaker in his own right. Adachi is the only
character in Wakamatsu’s orbit who can stand up to him. Yoshizumi also carries
a torch for him, despite his being at least a generation older.
One
thing is pretty clear throughout Dare. Militant leftists are absolutely
miserable people. Seriously folks, start buying into bourgeoisie consumerist
values. You’ll be so much happier for it. The film certainly is not a puff
piece for Wakamatsu either. Frankly, many viewers coming in without baggage
will start to suspect his dirty movies are really just dirty movies. However,
Shiraishi and screenwriter Jun’ichi Inoue ultimately humanize him and argue for
forgiveness of his excesses.
Regardless,
Mugi Kadowaki is rigorously reserved yet strikingly vulnerable as Yoshizumi. It
might just be one of the great feminist performances of our postmodern era, but
it is unlikely to be recognized as such, since the chauvinism she endures comes
from the left (hmm, would the Wakamatsu studio be considered a hostile work
environment by today’s standards?). In contrast, as Wakamatsu, Arata Iura is tempestuous
and larger than life in big-screen-friendly ways, while Hiroshi Yamamoto
anchors the film as the self-effacing Adachi.
