They are like the Dirty Dozen, except there are only four of them. Perhaps
you would compare them to Snake Plissken instead. Of course, filmtwitter hacks
would only know the Suicide Squad (whom the title deliberately echoes), as a
point of reference. Pocketfish’s team is just a bunch of thieves, whom the Shogun
regularly dispatches on suicide missions, because they are expendable (so to
speak). However, when they need someone to steal a lock of hair from a demon,
it makes sense to send some thieves in Ryosuke Kanesaki’s Harakiri Squad,
which screens again today at Fantaspoa in Porto Alegre.
Pocketfish
is a pickpocket. Dr. Poison is a questionable sawbones. Suicide Squid is the getaway
expert and, when need be, their torturer. Supposedly, Geishafish is an expert
in disguise, but the ambiguous genderbender always makes a point of standing
out. Mizuno Heima is not part of the Squad, but he teams up with them to fight
the demon, who is secretly leading his sister’s religious cult.
It
turns out the demon is planning to consume all the souls in the capital, using
amulets spread by the cult. Not surprisingly, Pocketfish and his gang are
really out of their depth. However, their survival rate is better than that of
Fox Team, the Shogun’s varsity squad.
“B”
is the sort of film character Garry Kasparov would probably approve of,
and possibly relate to, as both a chess master and a human rights activist. Arrested
during the Soviet crackdown on the 1956 Hungarian Revolution, the Catholic
priest is being held in conditions of extreme mental and physical isolation.
His only distraction is a slim book about chess. If that sounds familiar, it is
because this film is also based on Stefan Zweig’s novella, “The Royal Game,”
just like Philipp Stolzl’s recent Chess Story. However, Barnabas Toth
takes Zweig’s themes in a very David Lynchian direction, while revisiting Hungary’s
traumatic Communist history in Mastergame, which screens during this
year’s Fantaspoa in Porto Alegre.
Istvan
and Marta are two young anti-Communist lovers desperately trying to leave
Hungary, before the Soviets seal the borders. Normally, you want to be on the “last
train out,” no matter the cost, but there is something ominous about this
train, beyond its Casablanca like collection of former revolutionaries,
Communist spies, and petty criminals. A mild-mannered priest is also aboard (who
maybe not so coincidentally bears some resemblance to Cardinal Mindszenty).
The
priest is only referred to as “B” during the interrogations that make up Mastergame’s
other timeline. According to his file, B withstood extraordinary physical
torture while he was a prisoner of the Nazis, so they opt for different
methods. They forbid the deeply humanistic cleric any human contact, even
hiding the faces of his captors. His interrogator wants to break his spirit by
severing his connection to humanity. However, the chance discovery of the chess
book gives him something to occupy his mind.
If
you know Chess Story or “The Royal Game,” you have a good idea of what
is really going on, but the addition of the Marta-Istvan subplot adds an
intriguing new dimension. In terms of tone, Mastergame feels very much
like vintage Lynch ostensibly working in the mystery genre, as in Mulholland
Drive. In fact, the skullduggery on the train is so well executed, Mastergame
will be keenly suspenseful, even for the world’s greatest authority on
Zweig. On top of that, setting the story amid the Hungarian Revolution adds a
greater sense of grand historical tragedy.
