Snakes in the Studio

Title: Le Parc aux Cerfs (鹿の園)
Serialized in: Manga Joe (1964)
Director: Kazuo Kamimura
Script Writer: Norifumi Suzuki
Genre: Eros horror

King Henry the XV was infamous for many things, but nothing was more decadent than Le Parc aux Cerfs, the “deer park,” his own personal brothel tucked away in the lurid hind quarters of Versailles. Now, two modern masters of the flesh, acclaimed Pinky Violence director Norifumi Suzuki (The Sex and the Fury, Girl Boss Guerilla) and Gekiga artist Kazuo Kamimura (Lady Snowblood) have transplanted the 18^th century house of pleasure to the bustling studio lots of 1960’s Kyoto. Welcome to the Deer Park.

Wakaba paints the city red with passion and gore.

The Deer Park makes its cinematic intentions clear on the very first page. Discarding the conventional writer/artist dichotomy, its credits instead boldly proclaim Script Writer, Director, and Leading Lady. From the bombastic opening narration to the final curtain fall, Kamimura cuts, splices, and seamlessly lays out Suzuki’s films on the page. He reminds us that “Gekiga” means “dramatic pictures,” leading the eye with snappy editing, dynamic angles, and powerful compositions.

There is something rotten going on behind the scenes at Kyoto's fictional To-Oh Studios. Our protagonist, Takayuki Murase, is finally poised to break out as a full-fledged director after a new leading lady, Wakaba Ayanokoji, falls into his lap, both literally and figuratively. All eyes are on the high school beauty who looks eerily identical to her mother, a legendary actress who committed suicide on the set of the erotic thriller A Serpent’s Lust over fifteen years ago.

No one has more stake in this familiar fresh face than internationally acclaimed director, Kenzo Makiguchi, the man who propelled Wakaba's mother to fame. Her death and the ensuing scandal forced him into retirement, but now his starlet has seemingly returned from the grave to finish their long awaited masterpiece. The aging movie master phones in some favors to the studio heads and snatches the nubile actress from Takayuki’s egotistical clutches, but the aspiring director won’t let anyone stand in the way of his success. Takayuki fancies himself as a self-made cinematic revolutionary, a Japanese Julien Sorel opting for pink over black or red. The time has come to put an end to the old guard.

The proceeding power struggle is macabre in its depravity. Takayuki plots with Kenzo’s wife to take her husband out of the picture with carbon monoxide poisoning. Meanwhile, Wakaba proceeds to systematically slither her way into the minds of the men around her, including the now comatose Kenzo. In the world of the morally bankrupt, sex is only commodity of value, empowering those who command it and enslaving those who demand it. Men like Takayuki can only gloat in satisfaction as they go deeper and deeper into debt to the women around them. It’s ironic then, that the real-life studios were as financially destitute as the stars of manga are unscrupulous.

Much like the Norman Mailer novel of the same name, The Deer Park exposes the corrupt going-ons behind the scenes that drove Japan's movie industry into the ground. Even as early as 1964, Suzuki had seen the writing on the wall. By 1963, theater attendance had dropped to half of what it had been during the peak just five years ago. Toei had recently pulled the plug on its child company after two years of lackluster performance. Cinema couldn’t compete with the wonder of television. Though the period saw major creative talent explode onto the scene, such as Teruo Ishii (the Joys of Torture series), Seijun Suzuki (Tokyo Drifter), and Koji Wakamatsu (Ecstasy of Angels), they could only slow down the internal erosion caused by ham-fisted company presidents. Despite the obvious decline, no one dared dream that the Big Studios would come crashing down over the next decade. Nikkatsu would be the first to roll over on it’s back and open itself for Roman Porno in order to keep food on the table, a desperate maneuver that brought shortsighted success and long-term ruin for many.

Suzuki weaves an elaborate parable built upon literary allusion that leaves itself open to interpretation. It can be read as a straight-forward tale of erotic revenge, a biting criticism of the industry, or, after the final shocking twist, re-evaluated as an ero-guro ghost story. The imaginary script A Serpent’s Lust is based on the short tale of the same name by the 18^th century word smith, Akinari Ueda. In it, an academic, albeit useless, young poet crosses paths with a beautiful young woman who reveals herself to be a giant snake with “a lascivious nature.” (Chambers translation.) The would-be director Takayuki is equally naïve, blinded by disillusions of intellectual superiority. In his crusade to save the studio from corruption, he invariably indulges in the same vices he denounces as Wakaba coils around him, tighter and tighter.

Takayuki swears to take pornographic cinema to titillating new heights.

As with the pink films Suzuki would pioneer in the proceeding years, the duo was given total control over creating their masterpiece. The roar of their resumes overpowered all. Obtuse references, slander, and bizzare sex—In the current age of hyper-sanitized serials, the story would be dropped before it was pitched, if not for the content, than by the whims of the despotic editors who dictate industry trends. Le Parc aux Cerfs has found itself overrun by sheep, and the new management has left the grounds to rot.

Blooper role: Kamimura's take on Georgia O'Keeffe (NSFW)

Two in the Pink: Romantic Pornography Rebirth

From the Back From the Front (Ushiro kara Mae kara)

Check out the trailer here.

Being born ugly is a sin only if you’re ashamed of it. It shows true character to be comfortable in your own skin and accept your shortcomings, regardless of your poor genetics. An attractive personality can go a long way towards salvaging an otherwise hopeless situation. With that said, From the Back From the Front is easily the ugliest Betty I’ve seen in recent years, and also the one I was least embarrassed—rather proud, actually—about taking home.

From the Back is the first of two movies in the recent Roman Porno Returns series that riffs on Nikkatsu’s art house softcore skin flicks from the 70’s and 80’s. Both it and Apartment Wife: Affair in the Afternoon share names with legendary Pink Films, though the similarities are superficial at best. The original From the Back caused quite the stir for its sultry title track performed by the film’s starlet turned harlot, Yoko Hatakanaka. On the other hand, no one raised an eyebrow at the star of the modern reimagining, the over-30 nudie model, Tomomi Miyauchi.

Our heroine Momoko works as a taxi driver who, after failing yet again to meet her monthly quota, stands to lose her job if she can’t bring her fares into the black. Drawing inspiration from the world’s oldest profession, her new business model has men lining up around the block for the ride of their life, giving new meaning to the phrase “yellow cab.” Everything seems peachy until the fuzz come crashing down hard and fast, and Momoko finds herself fleeing cross-country with a handsome stranger. And there’s something about his touch that brings back memories lost during the motorcycle crash that killed her boyfriend not so many years ago…

Just to clarify, the plot revolves around an amnesiac prostitute who works out of her taxi and has flashbacks when given proper stimulation. More thought has gone into the script than your average porno film, but this isn’t an average porno film—It’s a Roman Porno, or at least is branded as one, and as such it must adhere to genre conventions. In Nikkatsu’s case, this includes one nude scene every ten minutes (check), the concealment of genital by any means necessary (clever placement of potted plants, check), and total artistic freedom so long as the producers deliver the goods (questionable but negligible).

You see, there’s no way that a true Roman Porno revival could happen in today’s social climate. Joe Public isn’t ready for it, and the censorship laws that killed the films off in the mid-80’s still prowl the studio lots like watchdogs. But first-time director Shoichiro Masumoto (supporting character in every B-movie from the past 10 years) was smart . He and his crew resigned themselves to the fact that they wouldn’t be changing anyone’s lives on their budget. They had no message to sell or artistic egos to stroke. This left their hands free to handle more important issues, like gags and nipple placement. The result—An unintentional masterpiece.

Films shot digitally look cheap, and From the Back is no exception. Normally such shoddy productions take me out of the movie, but in rare instances such as this they play to its strengths. Too many B-movies try to overcompensate for what they are, either by being purposefully ugly (Machine Gun Girl) or trying to hide their pockmarked genetics with layers of glam (One-Chan Bara). From the Back makes no excuses for what it is.

Japanese audiences are notorious for turning into stone-faced statues as soon as the theater lights go down, but even they were couldn’t keep their composure in the face of the irreverent humor and ramshackle plot. The jokes build on themselves like a well-lubed cheer pyramid that climaxes in one last awful pun before tumbling down upon the audience. If you find super sexualized schlock like Flesh Gordan to be comedic gold, you need to wrangle the troops together and head down to Shinjuku’s Euro Space theater ASAP to see this gem before it gets put away in a museum.

In the meantime, enjoy the 1980 classic track that started it all: