Actors in
Western cinema may, if they’re lucky, achieve fame for a recurring role in a
particular series of films. Basil Rathbone remains for many the definitive
Sherlock Holmes. Sean Connery will always be Bond, James Bond. And Dirty Harry
is still Clint Eastwood’s most indelible screen incarnation. But such
career-defining roles generally come around only once in a Hollywood film
actor’s career.
Not so in
Japanese cinema, especially during the 1960s and 1970s, when it was common for
an actor to be associated with multiple iconic screen characters. Indeed, for
some performers, it was almost the norm. The amazingly prolific Shintaro Katsu
not only played the blind swordsman-samaritan Zatoichi in 27 films and a
long-running TV series, he also starred in the 16-film Akumyo (or Bad Reputation) series, as well as the Hanzo the Razor trilogy. Action stars
Ken Takakura and Sonny Chiba were similarly renowned for playing more than one
recurring character.
But this
phenomena wasn’t limited to men. Matching her contemporary male peers in serial
stardom was Japan’s greatest female action icon, Meiko Kaji, who starred in
four Female Convict Scorpion films,
two Lady Snowblood films, five Stray Cat Rock films, and two Wandering Ginza Butterfly films. Kaji’s
screen persona was perfectly suited to such movies. Although not physically
imposing, she projected a tensile inner strength that lent credibility to the
strong, independent heroines she portrayed. She could dole out violent
retribution with style and fury, but her characters were never overtly
cruel—and they always adhered to a rigid moral code that included compassion
for the weak and disadvantaged. Despite her astonishing beauty, Kaji (much like
the French actor Alain Delon) never traded on her looks, exuding an emotional
aloofness that seemed to preclude any interest in conventional notions of
screen romance. This enigmatic reserve hinted at a dark sensibility, which,
coupled with her unique combination of femininity and fearlessness, proved
beguiling to film audiences during her heyday, and helps account for the
widespread cult admiration she enjoys to this day.Â
Wandering Ginza Butterfly (1971)
Kaji had
already made a name for herself with several Stray Cat Rock movies for Nikkatsu, but when that studio shifted to
soft-core production in 1971, she immediately switched to Toei. Her first film
for her new studio was Wandering Ginza
Butterfly (1971), in which she plays Nami, a beautiful gambler and ex-girl
gang leader just out of prison after serving time for the murder of a yakuza
kingpin. Back on the streets, she returns to her old haunts in Tokyo’s Ginza
section, where she forms a fast friendship with a charismatic pimp named Ryuji,
gets her a job as a hostess at a posh nightclub, and has a family reunion of
sorts with her uncle, who agrees to let her live in his billiard hall. Nami is
determined to go straight, but eventually finds her good intentions unraveling
in Ginza’s decadent, crime-ridden milieu.
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Nami’s
downfall, ironically, is her compassion. As revealed in flashback, the man she
murdered left behind a wife and small child. In atonement, she makes anonymous
cash gifts to the woman, who suffers from an unspecified illness. She also
takes it upon herself to help out when Saeko, the owner of the club where Nami
works, defaults on a business loan and faces losing her nightspot to a yakuza
boss named Owada. Nami asks her uncle to find some marks to hustle so she can
raise money to help Saeko out, but he goes her one better, brokering a
three-cushion billiard match against one of Owada’s men. Should Nami win, Saeko
will get to keep her nightspot. If she loses, her uncle will sign over his
business and property to Owada.
A couple of
parallel storylines center on a female pickpocket and ex-cellmate of Nami’s, as
well as a lone wolf criminal named Shin who has personal connections to Ryuji
and Saeko. However, these narrative threads aren’t developed to any great
degree, and the film doesn’t really catch fire until the tense confrontation at
the billiard table, which deliberately
evokes comparisons to 1961 Paul Newman classic The Hustler, right down to a huge poster of Newman as Fast Eddie
Felson that’s prominently featured throughout the sequence.
Nami starts
out strong, but soon finds herself down to Owada’s man, a hipster-cum-pool
hustler-cum crank addict. There’s a hilarious moment in the middle of the match
when he starts going through withdrawals and has to jab a needle into his arm,
much to the disgust of everyone present. Nami takes advantage of his condition
and runs off a string of points to win the match. But before she and her
friends can celebrate, Owada reneges on his agreement, and only the sudden
intercession of Shin saves them from Owada’s goons. Owada immediately puts out
a hit on Shin, an act that pushes Nami over the edge as she finally embraces
her inner criminal and seeks payback.
She and
Ryuji pay a surprise visit to Owada’s headquarters, where the gang is unwinding
after a hard day of shakedowns and intimidation by watching a porno
film—perhaps a nod to Nikkatsu’s descent into soft-core. Decked out in a
fetching kimono that will soon be decorated with blood, and armed with a wicked
samurai sword, she calls out the duplicitous yakuza boss in the film’s first
real taste of pulp flavor: “Owada! Every breath you take casts a cloud over the
neon lights of Ginza. I’m taking you down!â€
A battle
royal immediately breaks out as the pair takes on Owada’s men, Ryuji gunning
them down with a pistol, Nami cutting them down with her blade. (Perhaps the
inspiration for a similar scene in the 1974 film The Yakuza, starring Robert Mitchum and Ken Takakura.) It’s a great
action climax, with lots of clashing steel, ’70s blood geysers and an appalling
body count. Fittingly, Nami and Ryuji are the ones left standing in the
aftermath of the carnage, paving the way for the sequel.
Overall,
however, Wandering Ginza Butterfly is
something of a hit-and-miss affair. The screenplay by Isao Matsumoto and
director Kazuhiko Yamaguchi just kind of meanders along for about two-thirds of
the film’s length. The subplots aren’t all that compelling, and while the
supporting players turn in competent performances, none leaves a lasting impression.
Yamaguchi’s visual approach also borders on the pedestrian, although he does
conjure some effective angles during the billiard match and bloody showdown.
That the film succeeds at all is due mainly to Kaji’s magnetic screen presence
and her ability to hold her own against assorted yakuza heavies, whether she’s
wielding an expert pool cue or a death-dealing sword.
This
follow-up to the first Butterfly film
is quite similar from a narrative perspective, but has a bit more humor thrown
into the mix—some of it clever, much of it bordering on slapstick. In addition
to its lighter tone, the film’s visuals are more stylized and energetic, which
helps maintain interest even when nothing particularly exciting is going on.
Kaji of course is back as the wandering gambler, only this time her game is
cards, not billiards. Her character is essentially the same: her strength of
purpose and character make her the equal of any man, while her humanity compels
her to help those unwillingly sucked into the black hole of Ginza’s criminal
underworld. In fact, the film opens with Nami rescuing a young girl named Hanae
who has been sold into the sex trade by her debt-ridden father. This act of
mercy leads to all manner of complications and consequences, both for Nami and
those she comes in contact with.
Wandering Ginza Butterfly 2 poster
The story
again unfolds in Tokyo, where Nami searches for the man who killed her father
in a crooked gambling match 13 years previously. Along the way she becomes a
reluctant mentor to a nerdy would-be gambler; gets Hanae a job as a nightclub
hostess; and, rather perversely, given her feelings about prostitution, hooks
up with Ryuji, the freelance pimp with a stable of gorgeous Ginza girls. (Ryuji
is played by Sonny Chiba in not-so-subtle comic mode. At one point he lectures
his prostitutes on the principles of capitalism and the correct use of a
bidet.)
Meanwhile,
the inevitable yakuza boss, Aiboshi, views Nami and her friends as trespassers
on his criminal turf, and exerts various kinds of pressure—including bribery,
kidnapping, beat-downs and torture—to co-opt or marginalize them. Nami and
Ryuji have a few tricks of their own, however, although they take their sweet
time striking back. There are even more narrative subplots this time, played
out against a colorful backdrop of high-stakes card games, sexy psychedelic
nightclubs, secret meetings, hit-and-run driving, sexual outrage, and
inadvertently hilarious conversations in the rain:
Ryuji:
“Avenging your father’s death after all these years? Very uncool.â€
Nami: “There
are many things in society that are uncool.â€
Having
discovered that Aiboshi and the man who made her an orphan are one and the
same, Nami confronts him at a big yakuza gathering and challenges him to a
winner-take-all game of cards. She shows him up as a cheat in front of his
associates, publicly slates him for murdering her father, then pulls out 10
inches of sharp steel to exact retribution. Immediately, dozens of Aiboshi’s
materialize out of the blue and attempt to carve Nami into bloody little bits,
but Ryuji also appears on cue, and another epic yakuza style rumble is
underway. Again mimicking the series’ first installment, Nami and Ryuji
slaughter all the underlings first, saving the evil Aiboshi for last. They
execute a neat double skewer that leaves him writhing in his death throes on a
white futon, daubing an abstract painting with his spurting blood.
Notwithstanding
its occasionally sluggish pace and inconsistent attempts at humor, Wandering Ginza Butterfly 2 is a
distinct improvement over the original film. Yamaguchi’s direction shows more
dynamism, even if it never elevates to the grindhouse extremes of a Teruo Ishii
or the satiric frenzy of a Seijun Sujuki. Sonny Chiba’s manic charisma provides
a nice foil for Kaji’s steely reserve. And the film’s cheapjack production
values (typical of the era) add to the sleazy atmosphere, as does a pervasive
misogyny that’s vividly expressed in both verbal and physical terms—but with
such over the top absurdity that it’s hard to take offense. Hey, it’s a ’70s
thing.
The film’s
coda seems to hint at the possibility of yet another sequel, as Nami and Ryuji
discuss the possibility of hooking up after she serves time for killing
Aiboshi. Ultimately, though, the WGB
films proved passive and formulaic in ways that Kaji’s other series managed to
avoid, ensuring that this particular butterfly would never fly again.
(Both Wandering Ginza Butterfly films are
available on DVD in terrific widescreen transfers from Synapse Films. Extras
include audio commentaries, video interviews with director Kazuhiko Yamaguchi,
poster galleries, trailers and more. Visit www.synapse-films.com for more
information.)