Violent Cop (1989)

With logistical problems meaning that the then-comedian-and-television-personality “Beat” Takeshi chose to take over directorial duties from yakuza genre legend Kinji Fukasaku, he ended up combining his first big lead acting role with his directorial debut as Takeshi Kitano. As he was widely known as a comedian, Kitano didn’t want the film to be treated as a knockabout comedy, and so made Hisashi Nozawa’s script his own, toning down the comedy and upping the grime, letting the world know that Takeshi Kitano the director is a different man from “Beat” Takeshi the personality.

Instantly, we are shown that Azuma (Kitano) is not a police who bothers with rule books: he will hit you if he sees you doing wrong. Turning up at the family home of a teenage boy who has taken part in the beating of a homeless man, he threatens and slaps him into taking himself down to the station to hand himself in. While his bosses may like some of his results, they know they need to keep an eye on his methods.

Trying to get some leads in the drugs market in the city, he soon discovers that his old friend and confidant, Iwaki (Sei Hiraizumi), has been in on the game. Iwaki is soon found dead, and so Azuma, with his young sidekick Kikuchi (Makoto Ashikawa), looks to take on yakuza Nito (Ittoku Kishibe) and his hitman Kiyohiro (Hakuryu) by his own means.

It’s all fairly standard stuff, with a rogue cop kicked-off the force for his methods, deciding to create a bloodbath to get what he sees as justice by any means. But Kitano doesn’t want us to be lulled into secure traps of a film that will give us no surprises and deliver what we expect. Instead, he uses techniques to keep us interested, making this as much an art film as possible within its boundaries.

To start, it is quite a dark film. Azuma’s character is not just violent, but has a sinister edge lurking underneath throughout. Despite his will to look death straight in the face when confronted with criminals – treating them in any way he sees fit – in everyday situations he comes across more as a bumbling fool with no control over the situation.

The Japanese title, “Sono otoko, kyobo ni suki” – translated by Aaron Gerow as “That man is equipped with violence” – perhaps fits Azuma’s character more accurately: This isn’t a cop who will go across the line when called to; this is a man you don’t want to be near at all. Violence is in all things.

A notable scene, when trying to take in a local criminal goes wrong and the runaway wrestles with one of Azuma’s colleagues, is played in slow motion with a light jazz soundtrack under the watchful eye of some young children playing baseball nearby. Kitano wants to show us beauty in violence as the two men fight and the young boys cower, that stays with the audience in a way that a simple fist fight would not. Azuma’s interrogation technique can be little more than repeatedly slapping his victim, but the hard-hitting repetition and keeping it off-centre of the screen show both that violence is not the focus, but that it is in everything.

His nemesis Kiyohiro is of similar blood. He is a man who will stop at nothing to achieve his aims, kidnapping, drugging and allowing the repeated rape of Azuma’s sick younger sister Akari (Maiko Kawakami). When the two meet, guns are pulled and each meets the gun with calm, dead eyes. Both men are chasing their own demise.

While Kitano may show beauty in violence, he also shows it in its bleakest forms. In dark, quiet locations by the docks where lonely ends are met; and innocent bystanders meet shockingly gruesome fates. There is an artistry in this violence that would be a trend throughout his career.

But there is also comedy, though here not in abundance and probably less than fans of his would have expected. Azuma, at times, has a winsome grin, but one you suspect of sinister deeds within a moment. The extended car chase through side streets could have been edited, but letting the camera roll shows both Azuma’s aggression and buffoonery and serves as a highlight.

Whether or not it was unearthed by accident, Kitano’s movement into directing was certainly to the benefit of cinema, for the next decade, at least. With the odd exception, he found inventive ways to mix violence and art; one coming with the other. That man is equipped with violence, but in a style all of his own.