KITANO
A SES DEBUTS
The prospect of
an interview with Takeshi Kitano is a daunting one. Arguably
Japan's most famous person, this filmmaker churns out violent
mobster flicks and has a personal reputation to match.
By Chris Dafoe
Western Arts Correspondent
Vancouver - THERE are any number of reasons to be nervous
about the prospect of sitting down for an interview with Japanese
movie director Takeshi Kitano.
First of all, there's the fact that while he's not a household
name in the West, the 49-year-old Kitano is probably the most
famous person in Japan. He began his career in 1972 as a comedian--his
popular nickname, Beat Takeshi, is left over from his days
with a manzai, a crosstalk duo called The Two Beats--but he
has since branched out into almost every area of the entertainment
and media business. He is host of eight television shows a
week, appearing on every network in Japan. He has published
poetry, criticism, essays and three well-regarded novels.
He is a columnist who comments on everything from sports to
politics, and recently he has taken up painting. In a nation
known for social conformity, Kitano is a popular iconoclast,
trusted by more people than almost anyone else in Japan.
The second reason for concern can be found in his movies,
which are cult hits in Europe but are the least commercially
successful aspects of the Kitano empire in Japan. After making
his breakthrough as an actor with a role in Nagasi Oshima's
Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, Kitano began directing with
1989's The Violent Cop--a yakuza (gangster) movie in which
he starred as a stone-faced cop whose disregard for the rules
makes Dirty Harry look like Barney Miller. In the opening
sequence of the film, Kitano, his face an impassive mask,
slaps a confession out of a teen-aged thug who has just mugged
a beggar. The film ends in a hail of bullets and bodies all
over the place, but Kitano's terrifying stoic mask remains
unchanged. He played similar roles in his next two yakuza
films, Boiling Point and Sonatine: crazy, nihilistic tough
guys who stare death in the face without blinking and who
kill without mercy.
More troubling than the movies, however, is a newspaper clipping
that suggests Kitano's tough-guy act isn't limited to the
screen. According to the report, in 1986, Kitano and a few
associates entered the offices of a Tokyo scandal sheet that
had printed a picture of him with a young woman, and slapped
around the editors and staff of the rag. Stories like that
suggest that when you're talking to Kitano, you should choose
your questions carefully.
Kitano is accompanied by a trio of men in dark suits as he
arrives in the interview room at the Hotel Vancouver. He is
staying there while attending the Vancouver International
Film Festival (which ended yesterday) for a screening of his
latest film, Kids Return. But if he plays a tough guy on film,
in person Kitano confounds his fearsome reputation. He is
a small, soft-spoken man with a quick laugh and an easy smile.
He is handsome but he looks a little beat up, still bearing
the scars of a 1994 motorcycle accident that almost took his
life.
Kids Return once again finds Kitano visiting the world of
the yakuza. The film tells the story of Masaru (Masanobu Ando)
and his loyal sidekick Shinji (Ken Kaneko), two marginal high
school students who pass their time goofing off and extorting
money from other students.
"It's very hard for someone in the West to understand, because
mobsters are supposed to be underground, but in Japanese society,
yakuza are very much part of the everyday world," says Kitano
through an interpreter when asked about the frequent presence
of the yakuza in his films. "If you go out drinking, you will
probably end up in a bar owned by the yakuza and if you work
in the entertainment industry, you are bound to meet someone
who is yakuza. Japanese society has become more Westernized,
but Japanese family relations are still taken to a high degree,
where the parent will sacrifice his life for a child and the
child will do the same for the parent. As you see, in yakuza
society that is taken to an extreme in the bond between the
boss and the apprentice. So I think by using yakuza, you can
see how Japanese society works."
But if Kids Return revisits familiar territory, it also marks
something of a departure for Kitano. In his other yakuza movies,
the protagonists die, either at someone else's hand or at
their own. At the end of Kids Return, Masaru and Shinji are
still alive, their future a huge question mark. Kitano says
his work on this film was influenced by his own brush with
death in 1994.
"After the accident, the doctors thought I was dead and when
I survived, the entertainment community thought I would never
return," Kitano said through his interpreter. "Funny thing
is, I have returned. My personal experience, however, has
changed my views in certain ways. In my previous films, death
has been an answer for the characters. They were looking for
the right way to die. In this film, although they choose to
live, the characters haven't found an answer; living is in
some ways the harder choice."
The new film has been something of a breakthrough for Kitano
in Japan, the first of his films to do well at the box office.
He said that in spite of his popularity in other spheres,
being accepted as a film actor and director has always been
a challenge for him.
Early on, he says, his celebrity as Beat Takeshi worked against
him.
"The first role I took was a violent part," he says. "Problem
was that people started to laugh, because they thought I was
the comedian Beat Takeshi. The first role that people took
me seriously in was Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence with Mr.
Oshima. That made Japanese people realize that I could act
as well." He faced similar problems when he made his debut
as a director. Violent Cop was supposed to be directed by
Kinji Fukasaku, a noted gangster-movie director who dropped
out when it became apparent that he could only get Kitano,
who was busy with television commitments, for 10 days at a
time. The producers asked Kitano if he would be interested
in directing the film.
"I said yes," he said. "The problem was that I had never directed
and I had never studied directing, even though I had watched
a few films in my time. There was a crew who had been in the
industry for a long time and who had studied the usual methods,
which were based on the Western influence--moving the camera,
getting different camera angles. The problem with moving the
camera in Japan, though, is that when you move it, you always
get something you don't want in the frame. So I had to fight
with my staff to get these shots with very little movement.
After the movie came out, people said I didn't know how to
make films."
Kitano's use of long, static shots and the eerie calm he brings
to the performance lends a chilling tranquility to Violent
Cop, Boiling Point and Sonatine. Violence explodes from silence
and is captured by a still, unblinking camera. Kitano says
his approach to film violence was influenced by the famous
documentary footage of a suspected Viet Cong guerrilla being
shot by Saigon's chief of police during the bloody Tet offensive
of 1968.
"There is no movement in the camera," says Kitano. "No up
or down, but it's the most shocking thing I've ever seen.
Violence is like comedy; it affects us suddenly, without warning.
In boxing, I think it's scarier to watch one punch than to
watch someone being beaten."
Which brings us to the touchy subject of Kitano's relationship
with the press. The interpreter raised his eyebrows when the
question about the incident is posed, but Kitano laughs. Although
critics still refer to Kitano's invasion of the scandal-sheet
office in Tokyo, it's obviously old news to the director himself.
"Ten years later, those guys still dog me," he said with a
smile. "They're still at it. But I will say this about the
Japanese mass media--they are very sensitive to the way the
outside world thinks. They may have not taken me seriously
at first, but since Sonatine and Violent Cop received such
a positive response in Eupope, the Japanese media have started
to take my films more seriously. It's been a long and hard
road, though."