Kinji Fukusaku is best known to hipsters in the US as the director of “Battle Royale”, an instant classic about a decaying Japanese society and the government’s plan to fix it. In Japan however, Fukusaku is best known for his series of jitsuroka eiga (true story films) that slashed the yakuza genre to pieces like a Hattori Hanzo sword. Among these works, Gendai Yakuza – hitokiri yota (Modern Yakuza – Outlaw Killer, known in the US as Street Mobster), and Jingi no Hakaba (Graveyard of Honor) form the alpha and omega.
Before the jitsuroka eiga films came into fashion, yakuza films portrayed their protagonists as some sort of Robin Hood: existing in the criminal world only b/c it was their way of fulfilling a higher purpose. The yakuza of these films were glorified for their loyalty, and sanctified for their dependence on a code of honor and the prerequisite ceremonies that surrounded it. Fukusaku’s films entered into this world with one purpose, to destroy this mythos and show these gangsters in all their violent, hypocritical reality. Ok, maybe they had two purposes, because these films certainly packed theaters with their gallons of blood and extreme violence. In other words they were huge moneymakers. Street Mobster begins as most Yakuza films do: with the protagonist being released from jail after serving time for carrying out an honorable attack on a rival gang. The twist begins once he returns to his yakuza clan and begins to undermine their business, turning on them and eventually leading to their downfall. Told almost as a documentary, the story follows our ‘Street Mobster’ as he laughs off every outreach of help, and every chance to ingratiate himself with his Oyabun (Yakuza boss), eventually leading to his return to prison. The film ends with a slow pan to the words: “Thirty years of life, what a joke” scrawled across his cell wall.
Where Street Mobster began to explore the anti-yakuza theme, Graveyard of Honor pulled out all the stops and went straight for the jugular. Following on the heels of the Yakuza Papers series, five films loosely based on the rise and fall of a real yakuza gang from Hiroshima, Graveyard of Honor is the pinnacle of jitsuroka eiga and Fukusaku’s coda on the genre.
The story concerns real life gangster Rikio Ishikawa, and his path of self-destruction. Turning his back on his old gang, Ishikawa forms his own, only to butt heads with a much more powerful gang which is infiltrating the Tokyo territory from Osaka (a classic plot of the genre). Enter Noburo Ando, (a real life yakuza who turned his life experiences into a movie empire basically portraying himself) who offers to rescue Ishikawa from certain death because he sees himself in the unrelenting maniac. All of Ando’s efforts go for naught as time and time again Ishikawa foils the best efforts of his friend. In fact, the only friends Ishikawa does not turn against are his tuberculosis ridden girlfriend who is convinced she can save him from himself, even though they originally met as victim and rapist, and a junkie who is on the same path of self-destruction. These alliances each climax in their own special way.
When Ishikawa inevitably looses his last remaining grip on reality, he appeals to his scorned Oyabun. With his back to the wall Ishikawa’s former boss aids him more out of fear of his psychopathic nature, than compassion. This launches the last quarter of the film into the most nihilistic bloodbath ever witnessed by Japanese audiences. In the end not even Ando can save Ishikawa from himself, not that he ever wanted to be saved in the first place.
Graveyard of Honor and Street Mobster illuminate the meaningless, empty world of the yakuza in a way never seen before or since. Peeling the glossy finish from the romanticized view of gangsters, they succeed, through bloody exaggeration, in giving an accurate representation of just what type of person would do these things to begin with. It’s no wonder then, that Takashi Miike, a true descendent of Fukusaku, has recently remade Graveyard of Honor. Fukusaku, however, remains the master of the genre and his film is much more rewarding. That is, if you find nihilistic violence rewarding, but then who doesn’t?