Jungle Block (地図のない町, Ko Nakahira, 1960)

The contradictions of the post-war era are thrown into stark relief in the forced redevelopment of slum area on the edge of an increasingly prosperous city in Ko Nakahira’s intense noir, Jungle Block (地図のない町, Chizu no nai Machi). The slightly unfortunate English title may hark back to that chosen for a US screening of Nakahira’s landmark film Crazed Fruit, Juvenile Jungle, or just echo the titles of classic Hollywood noir movies such as Asphalt Jungle and Blackboard Jungle, but otherwise has little to do with the content of the film. The Japanese title, meanwhile, means something like “a town not marked on the map” and hints at the invisibility of those who live in this slum, a self-built post-war shantytown inhabited by those largely left behind by the nation’s rising prosperity. 

Then again, Shinsuke (Ryoji Hayama) seems to have fallen behind on his own account. We’re later told that he resigned from his position at the hospital because of some kind of medical mistake for which he blames himself and has since taken to drink and gambling while working at the poor clinic run by his former mentor Kasama. The most immediate effect of his, perhaps unnecessary, decision to resign was that it prevented the marriage of his younger sister, Sakiko (Kazuko Yoshiyuki), as he was then financially dependent on her. Having delayed the wedding for two years waiting for Shinsuke to pull himself together, Sakiko and her fiancé are set upon by local gangsters working for yakuza turned politician and legitimate businessman Azusa (Osamu Takizawa). Sakiko attempts to take her own life and the relationship does not survive this crisis thanks to her fiancé’s wounded masculinity in having been unable to save her or stand up to the goons afterwards. 

As repeated flashbacks reveal, Azusa is the root of the disease spreading across the city. It’s he that’s intent on clearing the slum, as he says just doing what the government has asked him to do, planning to build luxury apartments on its site along with supermarkets and entertainment facilities. Perhaps it’s not an entirely bad thing to clear a slum, the living conditions are in themselves a health hazard, but Azusa has drastically cut the amount of compensation on offer preventing the residents from securing new places to live and essentially rendering them homeless which defeats the humanitarian justification for forcing them out when most of them don’t want to go. 

Kayoko (Yoko Minamida), an old flame of Shinsuke’s who’s since become a sex worker to pay off her father’s debts to loan sharks and ends up as Azusa’s mistress, has a cat that she confesses to mistreating which makes her feel better only to feel terrible afterwards. The film seems to align the cat with the people of the slums who are bullied by men like Azusa who have untold influence buying off police and politicians while he himself later holds public office. The cat eventually fights back by scratching Kayoko who acknowledges it’s her own fault for her treatment of it, while it’s clear that the anger of the slum dwellers will eventually boil over and they too will strike back against the corruptions of this post-war era which otherwise sees fit to leave them behind. 

Meanwhile, Shinsuke plots a revenge he may not have the courage to take explaining to Kasama (Jukichi Uno), otherwise the voice of moral reason, that it’s the city that sick and the only way to save it is an operation to remove the Azusa-shaped tumour that’s currently killing it. It’s not for mere convenience that his weapon of choice is a scalpel. Kasama, however, tells him that he’s got the wrong idea and it’s their responsibility as doctors to take the long-term view and patiently run their clinic to produce results in the far off future. But Kasama’s eventual decision would seem to walk that back, suggesting that perhaps a radical solution really is necessary to save the patient from the ravages of amoral capitalism. 

Then again, like Kayoko’s father Yoshichi (Jun Hamamura) who is branded a “cripple” and “only half a man” by Azusa, Shinsuke begins to realise that perhaps you can’t create lasting change on your own and taking out Azusa won’t solve the problem as someone else will simply rise to take his place. There is a pervasive sense of hopelessness, Shinsuke caught and frantic amid the dim backstreets of this rundown town desperate for revenge when the police are in league with Azusa and no one really cares about the residents of the slum who are beginning to lose the will to resist. Nevertheless, eventually rediscovering himself Shinsuke opts to follow Kasama’s path insisting that will join the ranks of “good, honest, people” who, like the cat, will eventually scratch back until then resisting by “doing the right thing” even in the face of violence and intimidation while staunching the flow of corruption and cruelty from the seeping wounds of the post-war society.


DVD release trailer (no subtitles)

Teenage Yakuza (ハイティーンやくざ, Seijun Suzuki, 1962)

teen age yakuza poster jpgNikkatsu’s stock in youthful angst could have a nasty edge, even in their early days, but even so the Japanese teen movie is often a charming affair in which plucky youngsters defy the perils of their time from a position of relative safety. Rebellious punks die in Nikkatsu Action, but in the poppier coming of age world, innocence wins out as the angry young man finds a way to repurpose his rage for the good of society. Though Seijun Suzuki is generally associated with his “incomprehensible” work for the studio which eventually fired him in 1968, his trademark sense of absurd irony is a perfect fit for the essentially innocent world of the small town teen in ‘60s Japan.

High schooler Jiro (Tamio Kawaji) lives in a fatherless family with a grown-up older sister (Noriko Matsumoto) thinking about marriage and a mother (Kotoe Hatsui) about to open a trendy coffee shop/jazz parlour. He’s best friends with Yoshio (Hajime Sugiyama) – son of the carpenter working on the cafe, and is a typical scatterbrained teenage boy who enjoys fighting and has a “part-time job” taking illicit bets at the bicycle races. His problems start when he wins big on a bet but is hassled by a couple of punks dressed up like cowboys who deprive him of his winnings. Getting revenge, Jiro and Yoshio end up in a fight with the local gangsters in which Yoshio is stabbed in the leg and crippled for life and to make matters worse, his dad is killed in a traffic accident rushing to the scene of the crime. Filled with remorse, Yoshio turns to the dark side and falls out with Jiro while the petty punks start upping the ante and terrorising the town. The daughter of a local restaurant owner, Kazuko (Midori Tashiro), pulls Jiro in to frighten the punks off and convinces her dad to pay him for his time. Soon enough the other store owners are doing the same and Jiro is earning a pretty penny but what he thinks of as public service the store owners are beginning to think of as extortion – Jiro has become the yakuza he feared.

Like many a Nikkatsu hero, Jiro is a good kid misunderstood. He thought he was the lone voice standing up to the yakuza, the only sheriff in town and a shining beacon of justice. He didn’t see danger in taking the money because he genuinely thought it was a gift given freely out of gratitude, and perhaps to begin with it was. Danger rears its head when his sister’s fiancé suggests that Jiro’s illicit bodyguard business might cause problems for him at work and thereby endanger their marriage. When his mum talks sense into him, Jiro decides to try stopping the payments but it’s already too late. Thinking Jiro is after more money the store owners are scared, assuming Jiro will either remove his protection or turn on them as the yakuza they now believe him to be.

This sudden reversal of his self perception deeply wounds Jiro. He believed he was acting in the best interests of everyone and now has to accept he was corrupted by greed and status. He was acting like a yakuza, if accidentally, and has to accept his complicity in his present predicament. Rather than lashing out in rage and becoming the thing he’s been branded, Jiro (eventually) swings the opposite way, commits to ridding the town of yakuza but accepts that delinquency is not his best weapon.

Teenage Yakuza (ハイティーンやくざ, High Teen Yakuza) is no lone wolf story – lone wolves die at the end of Nikkatsu pictures, but Jiro and his ilk need to live to restore the peacefully innocent atmosphere that was broken by the random cowboys at the beginning. Jiro realises that saving the town is not his responsibility – at least not his alone, and he cannot do it all by himself. If the town is to be saved, it has to be because everyone chose to save it – Jiro’s job is not to fight the “yakuza”, but to make everyone else understand that the “yakuza”’s power is illusionary. Leading by example, he gradually wins them over (even the petty delinquents his original exploits helped to corrupt), ousting the growing influence of the shady gangsters through simple resistance.

A shorter, more disposable effort, Teenage Yakuza perhaps allows Suzuki wider scope for experimentation or at least allows him to express his trademark irony in a more direct way than your average programmer would. Filled with the youthful energy of the frequently echoed pop song, the twisters in the jazz bars, and the soba noodle delinquent with her cheerful ukulele, this is less youth on fire than youth breezing through. Teenage Yakuza neatly subverts the ideology of Nikkatsu’s action line, refusing the bad end for the angry lone wolf and gleefully restoring order with a hippyish plea for the solidarity of goodness. 


Teenage Yakuza is the third of five films included in Arrow’s Seijun Suzuki: The Early Years. Vol. 1 Seijun Rising: The Youth Movies box set.