The Japanese film "Tokyo Decadence" is a powerful film about an ugly subject matter--one woman´s encounters with paid sadomasochistic sex. In the age of the Internet, bondage and S&M seems to have taken on a definition of playful kink, which it may be when practiced by two (or more) consenting adults. Director Ryu Murakami, however, is not interested in eroticizing the fetish. He wants to make you feel its practitioners´ depravity and confliction.
The film begins in media res, when our protagonist Ai (Miho Nikaido) is already a working as a prostitute for a service that specializes in S&M. She´s new to the practice, evidenced by her hesitancy when being instructed by her temporary sex partner regarding how to disrobe and how to pose. She gets the hang of it eventually and we watch her crawl and perform acts I dare not describe on this Web site.
The bulk of the film is dedicated to these perverse sexual encounters. They are maddeningly lengthy and relatively explicit and will likely put off many viewers who will view the segments as a proxy purgatory. That is precisely the point. In his "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man," Irish author James Joyce includes a long chapter that is basically a single preaching on the horrors of hell and the effect it has on the book´s young protagonist. Joyce wants his readers to feel the sensations this speech arouses for themselves, and so does Murakami. To show less, to be briefer and to soften the sexuality would have had the opposite effect Murakami intended. It would have made S&M of this kind palatable and erotic.
We never learn why Ai chose to be a prostitute, but it is clear the choice came as a last resort. She is not a woman attempting to express her sexuality. The sexuality in this picture is all corrupt and strange and seemingly a manifestation of deeper maladies. For example, her first sex session is with a wealthy businessman. In between sex acts, we hear him on the phone doing business. He is lucid, wise and authoritative. When it comes to interacting with Ai, he is unhinged, cruel and authoritative. It is interesting to discuss and wonder what precipitates the change and sameness in his behavior. I´m certain a person familiar with the cultural history of Japan in the late 80s and early 90s would have a greater appreciation for the film than I.
It is wise that Murakami keeps Ai´s back story to a minimum. An orgy of exposition would have sent the film straight into melodrama. In fact, a few of her details--like the fact that she used to teach children as a side job--veer the film toward the ridiculous. The juxtaposition of a whore and teacher of children is too didactic for a film as probing and complicated as this one. The sparse details we get about her life outside of S&M, particularly her longing for a normal, substantive relationship, are just enough to make us aware of, and sympathize with, her plight.
Also saving the film from melodrama is a judicious use of music by composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, who had already won an Academy Award for his work on "The Last Emperor." Murakami, as an aside, also wrote the novel that Takashi Miike´s "Audition," another film about power and sex, was based on. One is tempted to put the S&M fetish on Murakami and not his characters, but I think this is too easy and explanation. Murakami is less interested in the act itself and more the questions surrounding it: Why the deviancy? Why the masochism? Why the desire to "rape a dead woman"? "All I can do is sigh," one character says matter-of-factly. In a world like this one, that seems to be an acceptable, albeit defeatist, response.
The Japanese film "Tokyo Decadence" is a powerful film about an ugly subject matter--one woman´s encounters with paid sadomasochistic sex. In the age of the Internet, bondage and S&M seems to have taken on a definition of playful kink, which it may be when practiced by two (or more) consenting adults. Director Ryu Murakami, however, is not interested in eroticizing the fetish. He wants to make you feel its practitioners´ depravity and confliction.
The film begins in media res, when our protagonist Ai (Miho Nikaido) is already a working as a prostitute for a service that specializes in S&M. She´s new to the practice, evidenced by her hesitancy when being instructed by her temporary sex partner regarding how to disrobe and how to pose. She gets the hang of it eventually and we watch her crawl and perform acts I dare not describe on this Web site.
The bulk of the film is dedicated to these perverse sexual encounters. They are maddeningly lengthy and relatively explicit and will likely put off many viewers who will view the segments as a proxy purgatory. That is precisely the point. In his "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man," Irish author James Joyce includes a long chapter that is basically a single preaching on the horrors of hell and the effect it has on the book´s young protagonist. Joyce wants his readers to feel the sensations this speech arouses for themselves, and so does Murakami. To show less, to be briefer and to soften the sexuality would have had the opposite effect Murakami intended. It would have made S&M of this kind palatable and erotic.
We never learn why Ai chose to be a prostitute, but it is clear the choice came as a last resort. She is not a woman attempting to express her sexuality. The sexuality in this picture is all corrupt and strange and seemingly a manifestation of deeper maladies. For example, her first sex session is with a wealthy businessman. In between sex acts, we hear him on the phone doing business. He is lucid, wise and authoritative. When it comes to interacting with Ai, he is unhinged, cruel and authoritative. It is interesting to discuss and wonder what precipitates the change and sameness in his behavior. I´m certain a person familiar with the cultural history of Japan in the late 80s and early 90s would have a greater appreciation for the film than I.
It is wise that Murakami keeps Ai´s back story to a minimum. An orgy of exposition would have sent the film straight into melodrama. In fact, a few of her details--like the fact that she used to teach children as a side job--veer the film toward the ridiculous. The juxtaposition of a whore and teacher of children is too didactic for a film as probing and complicated as this one. The sparse details we get about her life outside of S&M, particularly her longing for a normal, substantive relationship, are just enough to make us aware of, and sympathize with, her plight.
Also saving the film from melodrama is a judicious use of music by composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, who had already won an Academy Award for his work on "The Last Emperor." Murakami, as an aside, also wrote the novel that Takashi Miike´s "Audition," another film about power and sex, was based on. One is tempted to put the S&M fetish on Murakami and not his characters, but I think this is too easy and explanation. Murakami is less interested in the act itself and more the questions surrounding it: Why the deviancy? Why the masochism? Why the desire to "rape a dead woman"? "All I can do is sigh," one character says matter-of-factly. In a world like this one, that seems to be an acceptable, albeit defeatist, response.
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