The Tokyo of Shinya Tsukamoto (tw: suicide)
* trigger warning: suicide, self harm *
When the long-haired gang leader proclaims "Tokyo is a dream," it's hard not to take him at his word.
Bullet Ballet (バレット・バレエ)
It would be way too easy to say "No, director's Shinya Tsukamoto's Tokyo is a nightmare, a jungle of near endless rain, pulsating industrial noise music and violence behind every corner, in every color of skin and blood and in no color due to the black and white footage chosen for this portrait," but that's not the point of the line. The point is that in a dream reality is suspended, and what is true, what is false, what is wanted and what is feared all blend together in a blurry frenzy of shaky camera and wide apertures.
Goda's girlfriend of ten years shot herself in their bathroom, and he doesn't know why. Was it because of him? Was it because of everyone? Was it because of this city? All this is tossed at his face by various people, but the camera never takes a side. Goda doesn't take it well, obsessing first over where she could have even found a gun, then over getting a gun himself. He starts reading gun magazines, tracking black market sellers down, spending his time watching war footage, mimicking shooting at the mirror.
Violence, in a constant ambiguity of whether Goda dreams of violence against the self or against other people, violence as the last gasp of control over a crumbling life. And then he finds one.
And a girl, a member of the gang that torments him -- more and more violence, violence behind every parked car -- which Goda... bonds with? Is "in hate" with? while peering over the edge they're both teetering on. They share teethmarks on their hands, both biting the other hard in separate occasions as they saved/hurt the other. Whatever their relationship is, they're not alone -- and it might just be what could end up saving them.
Alleys, clubs, corners and parking lots paint a Tokyo of claustrophobia and darkness, its night underscored by an endless rain that the camera treats even more voyeuristically than the violence -- first as embellishment then, once all metaphorical cards are on the table in the fantastic ending, as statement. Showers of rain and real showers in the bathroom. It's a Tokyo stripped of its landmarks, where we rarely get a glimpse at what's beyond the buildings blocking our view, a city that's a city, not the city.
"There's only one way this will ever end up, and I don't want to die alone" sang John Darnielle back on The Sunset Tree, but Tsukamoto doesn't agree. This orgy of blood and self-destruction is no violent delight and doesn't have to have a violent end. It's going to cost you, the camera says through Goda, played by Tsukamoto himself, but you can rip off your past and run towards the sun rising. It hurts. It's dangerous. But it's doable.