Tetsuo II: Body
Hammer (Shinya Tsukamoto, 1992)
Hell is
industrial. It is red and stinks of molten iron and sweat, it reeks
of outrage and desire. Life in Tokyo, on the other hand, is blue and
sterile. It's not really life at all. It's where men spend their
years repressing their feelings under the cultivation of model
domestic conformity and dreaming at night of grassy fields they no
longer remember the colors of.
Shinya Tsukamoto's second Tetsuo film is not a sequel but a companion piece, another take on the same premise and themes of the first. Tomoro Taguchi again plays a salaryman, this time named Tomoo and married to a wife named Kana. Tomoo and Kana have a young son, Minori. One day two thugs (reminded me of the punks from Jean-Jacque Beneix's Diva) assault the family while out shopping at a mall. After injecting Tomoo with a foreign substance, the thugs initiate a campaign of terror involcing the kidnapping of the boy. Their purpose is to trigger a transformation in Tomoo. They succeed, and the results are monstrous – for Minori most of all.
Shinya Tsukamoto's second Tetsuo film is not a sequel but a companion piece, another take on the same premise and themes of the first. Tomoro Taguchi again plays a salaryman, this time named Tomoo and married to a wife named Kana. Tomoo and Kana have a young son, Minori. One day two thugs (reminded me of the punks from Jean-Jacque Beneix's Diva) assault the family while out shopping at a mall. After injecting Tomoo with a foreign substance, the thugs initiate a campaign of terror involcing the kidnapping of the boy. Their purpose is to trigger a transformation in Tomoo. They succeed, and the results are monstrous – for Minori most of all.
The thugs are part
of a cult led by Yatsu (Shinya Tssukamoto), a mysterious figure with
the bizarre ability to turn his body into mechanized weaponry. Yatsu
and his gang live in a factory and spend their hours bodybuilding –
metaphorically hammering flesh and bone into hardbodies that gleam
like polished metal. They serve a shady experiment in mad science
with Tomoo as their chosen target for reasons that Yatsu will reveal
over the course of the film.
This is
Tsukamoto's second feature film in color, but the first in which he
applies it to his personal aesthetic (Hiruko the Goblin having been
work for hire). He's stated that the Tetsuo movies were born of his
hatred for the city and the impossibility of retaining any
relationship with nature there. His Tokyo is a place of hard,
featureless surfaces as far as the eye can see: glass, concrete,
tile, chrome. The lights are cold there. Tsukamoto shoots almost
the entire movie stressing blue or red with lighting or filters.
Tomoo's world is blue, but when he begins to push himself at a gym
both his skin and the chromed weight machine reflect the subtlest
hints of red – a warning.
Tetsuo II is not
well regarded by most fans of Tetsuo: The Iron Man. That's
unfortunate because it's a more accomplished piece and still a kick
in the head, but it's an understandable response. In the earlier
film, Tsukamoto was refining techniques he had explored on home video
without a budget and the result was an anarchic howl that apparently
spat on comforting filmic conventions. It was a breathless fusion of
cocaine, adrenaline, and lust. No wonder it gained a cult following,
and no wonder that a followup would inevitably fail to be as fresh or
as jolting. Still, anyone who had seen the director's short film A
Monster of Regular Size should have predicted this trend because it's
the same story in even less coherent form – The Iron Man was the
second version, and the process of refinement and added coherence had
already begun.
With this third
version Tsukamoto adds nothing new to his bag of tricks (shocking
fast cuts, stop-motion, Raimi-esque camera moves and wirework among
others) but he hardly needs to. By now he kows the tricks well
enough to employ them with confidence and authority. Instead,
Tsukamoto shifts his focus to advancing his skill as a storyteller.
What he comes up with is much more straight-forward in narrative yet
more ambivalent in treatment, and more nuanced.
Start with
Tsukamoto's favored structure of two men at war with each other and
the woman caught in the middle. One man, the antagonist, usually
sees something in the other that reflects himself and sets out to
transform the protagonist. How this affects the woman is never the
same from one film to the next, and the women of his early films went
unexplored. In Tetsuo II Kana seems to exist to underscore the idea
that male sexuality is by nature all about an innate desire to
destroy. She stands out as both the only female in the movie and the
only one in the film whose response to loss and grief is not
wholesale rage. This is spelled out in stark terms in a sex scene
late in the film. Personally I think it's a simplistic, mistaken
view of both genders and is actually a step backwards from a more
complex understanding expressed in the first film, one he would
return to in Tokyo Fist. Really? Women have no capacity for
violence or destruction? Wendy O. Williams would have disagreed.
Even so this film introduces a vital ingredient that went missing
before: empathy, expressed by Kana and even Yatsu himself. It's the
beginning of humanism in Tukamoto's body of work, the one element
without which he'd not be one of my favorite filmmakers. Tetsuo II
is still an apocalyptic vision that suggests the only way to be at
peace is to be the last man standing.
In another nuance,
this Tetsuo offers no alternative to the sterility of the city.
Instead of embracing the howl of anarchy in the face of conformity,
the solution proffered by Yatsu's tribe is fascism – that's no path
to freedom!
The movie still has enough horror to qualify for the genre, but feels
more like a comic book – a true manga (it's not for the kiddies!)
or something out of The Incredible Hulk. When Tomoo Hulks out he has
a grin that would scare even the Joker.