Having recently watched Seijun Suzuki’s Tokyo Drifter, I was eager to see Branded to Kill, the 1967 film that led to his dismissal from Nikkatsu studios. A black and white film noir, at the time, Branded to Kill represented a new kind of surrealism with Suzuki’s bold style choices and its unquestionably perverse characters.
Hanada (Joe Shishido) is ranked the third best hitman in Japan. He’s aiming for the top spot, but the task is even harder because no one knows who the mysterious “Number 1” is. A consummate professional on the job, his personal life is far more chaotic. He seems to do very little with his time, except smelling cooking rice. The smell seems to act as a kind of pseudo-psychotic aphrodisiac; resulting in violent sex with his wife, Mami (Mariko Ogawa). All accompanied by cool jazz tracks.
On the way home from an assignment, Hanada is offered a ride by the beautiful femme fatale, Misako (Mari Annu), who has a dead bird hanging by a pin from the rear window of her convertible. Later at her apartment—which is overwhelmed by a collection of dead butterflies—she asks him to carry out a contract killing. Along the way, Hanada forgets the cardinal rule of the hitman to stay inhuman and falls in love with her. On this very important and difficult job he carries out for her, a butterfly lands on his rifle scope just as he pulls the trigger on his mark. The result is a botched job. The mistake is unforgivable. According to long standing yakuza code he can no longer challenge Number One. Every hitman on the prestigious list will now hunt him down until the day he is killed and removed from it.
In a series of rapid camera cuts, Hanada coolly brushes aside each would be assassin in a calculated manner. There are some nifty killings on display; in one attempt on his life he assassinates No. 5 by setting him on fire. In the midst of all this, Mami discovers that Hanada is no longer attracted to her, and tries to kill her. Eventually, Number One appears, but instead of killing Hanada he proceeds to torture and humiliate him.
There are lots of frantic gunfights; bullets flying all over the place, which only adds to an overall sense of confusion. Hanada is one of the strangest protagonists in film history: a kinky sex addicted to rice, so much so that he inhales the steam to get high. His wife is a loudmouthed gossip who spends the film naked until he quite literally lushes her brains down a toilet.
Joe Shishido is an eccentric actor. Known for his chubby cheeks (enhanced by cheek implants), he starred in several yakuza pulp pictures, he seemed to thrive on guns and broads. Needless to say, he’s perfect for Branded to Kill, a bizarre montage of violence, sex, and car chases.
Framed at 2.35:1 Criterion’s 2011 standard DVD release is a nice one if Blu-ray isn’t an option.. Filmed in black and white, the contrast isn’t quite as dynamic as one might like, but it’s much better than many SD releases. There are no real digital anomalies that make this a no-go.
The monaural soundtrack is appropriate for the film. Dialogue is clear throughout, though there is tininess throughout.
English SDH subtitles are included.
The following special features are included:
- Seijun Suzuki and Masami Kuzuu (13 min) Director Seijun Suzuki and assistant director Massami Kuzuu discuss the production of Branded to Kill, Nikkatsu’s reaction to the film, and the events that followed the firing of the Japanese director. The interview was recorded exclusively for Criterion in July, 2011.
- Joe Shishido (11 min) The actor discusses working with Seijun Suzuki on Branded to Kill and Gates of Flesh.
- Seijun Suzuki (15 min) An interview recorded with director Seijun Suzuki during a retrospective of his work by the Japan Foundation and Los Angeles Filmforum at the Nuart Theatre in Los Angeles, March 1997.
- Trailer (4 min) The original theatrical trailer for Branded to Kill.
- Booklet : An illustrated booklet featuring an essay by Asian cinema expert Tony Rayns, author of Branded to Thrill: The Delirious Cinema of Suzuki Seijun, and a brief statement by the film’s art director, Sukezo Kawahara.