There comes a point in each country’s film history when the filmmakers seem to collectively create a cultural and formal renaissance of film at the same time. Out comes a film movement that cinematically defines the country’s culture, and iconography emerges from those films that go on to influence future filmmakers. The Japanese New Wave was one such movement, and Seijun Suzuki was one of its most noted and iconic filmmakers.
Suzuki made a name for himself in how he rewrote the formulas of the gangster film in his work, and no film of his was more pioneering in his resistance to conformity or structure than Tokyo Drifter. Tokyo Drifter is all over the place, and I mean that as a compliment. It is absolutely nuts in the most captivating fashion.
Tokyo Drifter follows Tetsu, otherwise known as “Phoenix”, a reformed yakuza member in a group that has been disbanded. He is loyal to his boss Kurata, who is currently getting muscled out of his business building by a rival gang led by Otsuka. Tetsu has vowed to give up his violent past, looking forward to a future with lounge singer Chiharu. After he foils a real estate scam from Otsuka, he is asked by Kurata to go on the run to save himself. However, Otsuka’s men, led by the Viper, are constantly on his tail as Tetsu receives help from an older hitman named Keiichi as he works his way through a doublecrossing.
The film has sizeable passages that are largely incoherent, yet never fail to be wholly engaging. Consider when Tetsu takes a walk through the snow while the enemy gang led by the Viper makes their way through his safe house. He engages in a shootout with them, then all of the sudden in the middle of it Suzuki jump cuts to Tetsu walking in the snow again while Viper tails him. They then have a shootout as well on the train-tracks. Suzuki has no regard for continuity in this film, and its all the more memorable for it.
The whole film is a work of pop art, a mixture of various genres and styles. At some points, it briefly becomes a musical of sorts when Tetsu sings his theme song about being the Tokyo Drifter. Scenes like this exist in a film with lots of brutal gun violence too. The brutal gun violence is certainly well done, as Suzuki draws on imagery and thematics of the Western, such as a fight in a club designed as a saloon and the iconic hero having a shootout against opponents who have him outgunned. He takes these iconic and familiar beats and puts them through a blender of pop imagery and colorful aesthetics.
Suzuki also takes the opportunity to explore just about any color palette he can throughout the film. The opening scene takes place in black and white, but the rest of the film is an explosion of contrasts and shades. Most notably, Tetsu is always wearing a bright blue suit that pops out of the screen and differentiates him from all others onscreen. Suzuki also employs the use of lighting that constantly shifts color to accent the violence on screen. Midway through the film, when Tetsu thwarts the real estate scam, he ends up shooting the gun out of a sneaking opponent. When he shoots, the background lighting instantly changes from red to white to accent his cool. When Tetsu shows up to the final shootout in an all white suit, the setting of the lounge that Chiharu works at is all white and lit that way too.
Tokyo Drifter is a film that shouldn’t work because of how it rejects all notions of plot and storytelling but strangely works for those precise reasons. It’s as incoherent of a story and plot as it gets, but it is a completely unforgettable piece of filmmaking because of the fervent and uncompromised style of Suzuki. Tokyo Drifter is a largely incoherent film, making it hard to make sense of the plot. But what makes it such an iconic work is how it pushes boundaries on traditional narrative and filmmaking, and doing that is what just about any honest filmmaker should strive for. The wild and cool world that Suzuki creates in Tokyo Drifter would go on to influence the work of Walter Hill, Quentin Tarantino, and Nicolas Winding Refn, to name a few. The Japanese New Wave was about a generation of filmmakers finding their cinematic cultural voice, and Suzuki found his with the boundary-pushing stylizations on display in Tokyo Drifter.
