About 3 years ago I saw a trailer for a movie. I had no idea what the plot was, who wrote it, or who directed it. It sorta just coalesced out of the indie film ether. A patchwork amalgamation of niche genres and indie tropes. It mesmerized me...
The song is perfect. The visuals are strikingly grind-house. The girl is exquisite... and, wait, was that... Luke Effing Skywalker?! And Candyman? And Machete? Dwayne Hicks?! What is this nerdgasm, physically manifested on my video-sharing website of choice? It appears to ape, at least in spirit, Reservoir Dogs, and 70's exploitation flicks, and the kind of gritty crime dramas made mainstream by the likes of Tarantino himself.
Must. Watch. Now.
Fast forward ahead 3 years... A lot of junk happened, horrible movie schlock was watched, and... that one cool looking indie grind-house flick, what was it called, crap, Fish Lady? Salmon Female? Erin Brockovich?
Well whatever it was called, I completely forgot about it. Hell, it took them a dog's age, it seems, to even get a limited release. So I start digging...
After the movie was filmed, the director Kern Saxton and his production crew raised the money for a premiere on Kickstarter.
And was met with mixed reviews. But, seeing as I consider myself, at least, a tourist in genre subversive independent film peeping, I decided to finally give it a whirl.
How bad could it really be? Well... I was underwhelmed, to say the least. It's hardly a cinematic abortion *cough, all Adam Sandler films, cough* but the overly derivative nature of the narrative kept it from reaching god-tier.
Let me explain; as is the case with any film, there's a right way, and a wrong way to tell a story. And any story can be interesting, it just boils down to execution. In the case of SUSHI GIRL (finally remembered the damn name), the lurid, seductive, visually entrancing, memorable opening pulls you in better than any indie flick I've seen in a while. I mean, it's got Sonny Chiba chopping up raw fish and placing it on a chart-topping unknown sex-exuding vixen (READ: the actual sushi girl).
The perfect curves of her naked flesh laying on a table, centered amidst a Japanese themed hole-in-the-wall (which Mark Hamill's character, Crow, sarcastically points out is more Ming Dynasty in its design), effectively sets the mood for what's to come. It's a fantastic opening sequence... but then the characters start talking. Blah.
Tarantino perfected gangster speak in Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction in such a fashion that, even though his characters are vile, mostly immoral, scumbags, you actually enjoy hearing their diatribes. It's one of the highlights of his films. Here, it just plays like a hackneyed imitation, devoid of any genuine thought or cleverness. Clunky is a good word for it.
Continuing with that theme, as the plot chugs along, and you start to understand why these characters are meeting in a dive, partaking of the delicious spread, you realize what you're in for... Now, if I weren't dead inside already, I'd call the torture scenes graphic, gory, and ultimately unnerving. But alas, my imagination, and ability to suspend my disbelief, is so shot to hell that nothing grosses me out or unsettles me (unless I'm looking in a mirror... GET A TAN, YA PALE FREAK). Horror movies bore me, unless they're hilariously gory. Torture porn is a big yawn. But thankfully the story is written in a way that, as you piece together where it's all going, the twist ending actually slaps you in the genitals. You forgot about the bad jokes, and forced genre dialog. It was so memorable and out of left field, I honestly want to watch it again.
Great music, pointless, albeit appropriate, cameos by horror and grind-house regulars, excellent cinematography, sub-par performances, with a few bright-spots here and there, and an unexpected twist, Goldfish Woman (pretty sure that's what it was called) was a surprising treat that unfortunately wasn't necessarily worth how long I waited to see it. But then again, that was my own dumb-ass fault. I, lukewarmly, recommend it.
Now if I could only eat some SUSHI off a beautiful GIRL...
The song is perfect. The visuals are strikingly grind-house. The girl is exquisite... and, wait, was that... Luke Effing Skywalker?! And Candyman? And Machete? Dwayne Hicks?! What is this nerdgasm, physically manifested on my video-sharing website of choice? It appears to ape, at least in spirit, Reservoir Dogs, and 70's exploitation flicks, and the kind of gritty crime dramas made mainstream by the likes of Tarantino himself.
Must. Watch. Now.
Fast forward ahead 3 years... A lot of junk happened, horrible movie schlock was watched, and... that one cool looking indie grind-house flick, what was it called, crap, Fish Lady? Salmon Female? Erin Brockovich?
Well whatever it was called, I completely forgot about it. Hell, it took them a dog's age, it seems, to even get a limited release. So I start digging...
After the movie was filmed, the director Kern Saxton and his production crew raised the money for a premiere on Kickstarter.
And was met with mixed reviews. But, seeing as I consider myself, at least, a tourist in genre subversive independent film peeping, I decided to finally give it a whirl.
How bad could it really be? Well... I was underwhelmed, to say the least. It's hardly a cinematic abortion *cough, all Adam Sandler films, cough* but the overly derivative nature of the narrative kept it from reaching god-tier.
Let me explain; as is the case with any film, there's a right way, and a wrong way to tell a story. And any story can be interesting, it just boils down to execution. In the case of SUSHI GIRL (finally remembered the damn name), the lurid, seductive, visually entrancing, memorable opening pulls you in better than any indie flick I've seen in a while. I mean, it's got Sonny Chiba chopping up raw fish and placing it on a chart-topping unknown sex-exuding vixen (READ: the actual sushi girl).
The perfect curves of her naked flesh laying on a table, centered amidst a Japanese themed hole-in-the-wall (which Mark Hamill's character, Crow, sarcastically points out is more Ming Dynasty in its design), effectively sets the mood for what's to come. It's a fantastic opening sequence... but then the characters start talking. Blah.
Tarantino perfected gangster speak in Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction in such a fashion that, even though his characters are vile, mostly immoral, scumbags, you actually enjoy hearing their diatribes. It's one of the highlights of his films. Here, it just plays like a hackneyed imitation, devoid of any genuine thought or cleverness. Clunky is a good word for it.
Continuing with that theme, as the plot chugs along, and you start to understand why these characters are meeting in a dive, partaking of the delicious spread, you realize what you're in for... Now, if I weren't dead inside already, I'd call the torture scenes graphic, gory, and ultimately unnerving. But alas, my imagination, and ability to suspend my disbelief, is so shot to hell that nothing grosses me out or unsettles me (unless I'm looking in a mirror... GET A TAN, YA PALE FREAK). Horror movies bore me, unless they're hilariously gory. Torture porn is a big yawn. But thankfully the story is written in a way that, as you piece together where it's all going, the twist ending actually slaps you in the genitals. You forgot about the bad jokes, and forced genre dialog. It was so memorable and out of left field, I honestly want to watch it again.
Great music, pointless, albeit appropriate, cameos by horror and grind-house regulars, excellent cinematography, sub-par performances, with a few bright-spots here and there, and an unexpected twist, Goldfish Woman (pretty sure that's what it was called) was a surprising treat that unfortunately wasn't necessarily worth how long I waited to see it. But then again, that was my own dumb-ass fault. I, lukewarmly, recommend it.
Now if I could only eat some SUSHI off a beautiful GIRL...