Shinya
Tsukamoto, recently given his due with the Arrow Video boxed set Solid Metal Nightmares, needs no introduction to our readers by this point. A bona-fide 100% original cinematic
visionary, Mr. Tsukamoto first caught the attention of world cinemagoers with
his hallucinatory hyperkinetic body-horror epic Tetsuo: The Iron Man in
1989. Nevertheless, the project itself
was produced independently with Tsukamoto doing just about everything behind
the camera as well as in front of, and despite the success Tsukamoto still was
a cult item at the time.
Circa
1991 however, that changed when the option to work for hire came his way with
the mainstream monster movie Hiruko the Goblin. While something of a by-the-numbers monster
movie on paper, Tsukamoto quickly infused the material with his own surreal
imagery, penchant for grisly violence and eccentric approach to
cinematography. Think of it as a
standard creature feature with an auteur as idiosyncratic as Tsukamoto behind it. It’s the kind of film Sam Raimi or Peter
Jackson would have made years into their respective careers but Tsukamoto did
it in only his second feature.
Based
on short stories by writer Dajiro Moroboshi with extensive liberties taken with
the material by Tsukamoto, Hiruko the Goblin follows Japanese superstar
Kenji Sawada (The Happiness of the Katakuris) as Reijiro who travels to
a remote village on the cusp of a major archaeological discovery. Zeroing in on an ancient tomb with mysterious
secrets, Reijiro and his partner’s son Masao (Masaki Kudo) are besieged by
demonic spiders with human heads on their bodies as an ancient demon named
Hiruko begins to gather strength.
While
wearing all the eccentricities on his sleeve, such as Masao’s peculiar skin
condition which causes human faces to burn themselves into his back, Hiruko
the Goblin is much closer to John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness than
Tetsuo: The Iron Man. Dialing
down the intensity dealt out by Tetsuo in an attempt to make a broadly
appealing picture still retaining the stamp of its auteur, Hiruko the Goblin
is comparatively an easier pill to swallow even as it grows increasingly
weird.
That
said, from the outset this is the first Tsukamoto film that doesn’t feel from
the ground up like something he would make on his own. For a staunch indie filmmaker used to doing
everything himself, Hiruko aside from the director’s visual flourishes
and surreal comedy is a rare example of the filmmaker doing a job to pay the bills. Having only seen the ones handpicked for Solid Metal Nightmares and his recent remake of Fires on the Plain, seeing Tsukamoto somewhat out of his element was a sight both familiar and strange.
Tsukamoto fans will find much to enjoy though
the film’s visual palette which is bright and colorful juxtaposed with the
cheery soundtrack by Tatsushi Umegaki feels out of place. As for myself it’s the director’s weakest
effort in an otherwise strong and steadfast career of pushing the limits of the
medium visually and sonically. An
entertaining effort which only offers a glimpse of the full potential of the
writer-director’s creative powers.
--Andrew Kotwicki
