Chapter 25: A "Violent Man" Should Be This Direct!

Chapter 25: "Violent Cop" Should Be This Direct!

Although the film reel arrived on time, Mitani still held a poor impression of the movie. Yakuza would always be Yakuza. He couldn't help but ponder why Takeshi Iwata hadn't shown up: Was he trying to cultivate a sense of mystery?

However, the opening shot of the film delivered a heavy blow to his assumptions. It began with the face of a fierce-looking man, then slowly transitioned to include an innocent little girl, and after that... blue. One could recognize it as the sea of Kanagawa, but this blue was shot beautifully. Moreover, the man and the girl appeared in this frame with an unexpectedly perfect harmony. It wasn't just a simple complement of their appearances; there was much more to it. Mitani thought about many things at once, but he immediately realized there was likely much more he hadn't yet grasped.

And what was the title of this film? "Violent Cop."

So far, there wasn't a single line of dialogue. The interaction between the fierce-looking man and the innocent, cute girl consisted only of smiles, mostly from the girl. Yet, anyone could understand who the "violent cop" referred to. This was the language of cinematography; the camera spoke the lines and provided the introduction. Japanese films usually lacked subtitles, and this movie hadn't undergone post-production for theatrical release, meaning there were no introductory title cards—and even if there were, it would look amateurish. Just this opening sequence left Mitani, a young screenwriter, unable to believe that this was something made by a Yakuza.

...

When that blue sea appeared, Akio Jissoji felt at ease. He hadn't misjudged the man. That guy truly had vision. A scene without a single line of dialogue had conveyed so much. This must be the violent cop, right? But he wasn't there; could he be... Jissoji wondered if Takeshi Iwata had gone off to get into a fight. He dismissed the thought as impossible; why would anyone pick a fight at such a crucial moment? Never mind, he decided, he would just focus on watching the movie.

...

As a film critic for the long-standing magazine *Kinema Junpo*, Mika Ando had seen far too many movies. Yet, the first shot of this film left a deep impression on her. In the current Japanese film industry, there were few directors left who could capture the sea and such a harmonious composition of characters within it. Or, to put it another way, the current film industry was too restless; the mainstream was dominated by excessive gangster films and "pink" films that relied on extreme, provocative imagery to grab attention—a major flaw in the industry.

So, was this Director Iwata the type of guy who could settle down and make a good movie? "Violent Cop" was clearly a movie infused with violence, so what would come next? After giving the audience such a beautiful and harmonious image at the start, what would happen?

Ando didn't have to wait long. It came. On the streets of Tokyo, a "street friend" was holding a lunch box, enjoying his dinner. Homeless, beggar—these words sounded harsh, so Tokyo had come up with "street friend." It sounded a bit nicer, didn't it?

*Thump.* A soccer ball knocked over the man's lunch box, and a group of children appeared. They were truly just children, but from their mouths came: "Beggar! Beggar! Old beggar!"

The street friend knew he couldn't afford to provoke them, so he tried to flee with his "belongings." Unfortunately, these "children" had no intention of letting him go; they beat and kicked him without reason, and even after he collapsed, they rode their bicycles over him. They were truly just "children." This scene formed a stark contrast with the previous one. It shocked Ando to the core. So, what would happen next?

...

Every year, the "Top Ten Worst Films" list was the most critical evaluation. Ryoko Kobayashi of *Eiga Geijutsu* understood this deeply, which led to a peculiar habit among her peers at the magazine: searching for bad movies. They were like beasts—no, like flies—actively hunting for cinematic garbage in the market, the worse the better. Sometimes, if a movie wasn't even that bad, they would still label it as such. After all, the opinions of critics were paramount, right? Therefore, whenever watching any film, Kobayashi included, she would instinctively look for reasons to classify it as a disaster. To put it bluntly, she would first decide it was a bad film and then work from there.

But this movie... Kobayashi really hadn't expected the dialogue to be so sparse while the content was so rich. Especially in the scene where the children beat the street friend, the protagonist finally...

At a typical detached house, the mistress opened the door to find the fierce-looking man standing there. He produced his credentials: "Ryosuke Azuma, Police."

Azuma asked, "Is your child home?" The woman confirmed he was and pointed to his room, but she was confused, repeatedly asking what it was about. Azuma didn't say a word, simply walking into the child's room. That child was one of the assailants. And then... *Bam! Bam!* Fists, a knee strike. The child quickly curled up in fear. "You idiot! Do you know what you're supposed to do now?" The child nodded.

Just like that, Kobayashi realized that the protagonist, Azuma, had finally finished his self-introduction. This film... was too unique!

...

Ennosuke Ichikawa III was there to observe Teruyuki Kagawa, the son he didn't publicly acknowledge. But he hadn't expected the film to captivate him so deeply, especially Ryosuke Azuma. And, of course, that deeply impressive "violence!" No redundant dialogue, no extra baggage, no hesitation—it just went straight to the fighting. Perhaps the fighting wasn't "pretty"—like a cop beating a violent child—but it gave the audience a profound sense of catharsis. That's right! Such a rotten kid deserved to be taught a lesson! Otherwise, they would simply be... hmm?

The Third suddenly realized he sounded like a father. That wasn't good. Never mind, he decided to keep watching.

...

The plot of "Violent Cop" was truly simple. After Azuma disciplined the child, the boy turned himself in at the station. Later, Kikuchi appeared—an assistant played by Teruyuki Kagawa who acted like a lackey. The police chief's attitude toward Azuma was also interesting; they wanted him to solve the case and even encouraged his violent methods. Then, Kiyohiro, the hitman, appeared. He immediately eliminated a drug dealer who tried to haggle with him.

The film wasn't just about Azuma; Kiyohiro was the same. Both men held to one principle: Don't talk, just act! It provided an extraordinarily satisfying feeling.

...

Of course, there were contrasts. When the man Kiyohiro killed was discovered, the police arrived to investigate. Azuma arrived with Kikuchi, and another team quickly cornered a drug dealer, hoping to extract information. But the other officers tried to act "cool" in front of the target, and the guy was a tough nut. *Bam, bam!* Fists and a baseball bat—the posturing cops paid a heavy price.

Azuma, on the other hand, was ruthless. He found Kikuchi's driving too slow, so he took the wheel himself, slamming the car directly into the dealer. Kikuchi thought Azuma had gone too far, but the dealer immediately got up and started smashing the car with a club. Azuma didn't stop until he had beaten the guy into submission, and even then, he kept kicking him savagely—even kicking Kikuchi when he tried to intervene.

Sei Shimadani watched this and was instantly hooked. This was a rare style! Japan had many violent films, but most went through a lot of formalities to highlight the protagonist. This film was different—it was too crisp, too direct! Even with little dialogue and a simple plot, this was how violence should be!

...

Kagawa felt a bit confident about his performance, but he was actually more concerned with the others—especially that fierce-looking guy. Kiyohiro was truly terrifying. But there was another one: Kenichi Endo, who had joined the set at the same time as him. He... was up!

Azuma brought Kikuchi to a nightclub, looking to catch someone for leads. They found a guy named Daisuke, a street-smart dealer who denied his crimes. Azuma was blunt; he kicked the man down. Then... *Slap! Slap! Slap!* Continuous, unrelenting slaps to the face! Kagawa was standing right there, stunned.

He remembered clearly that before filming, Takeshi Iwata had talked to Kenichi Endo, who played Daisuke. About the slaps—would they be real or fake? Kenichi Endo was a guy with a very ugly, fierce-looking face. His large mouth finally spat out: "Please, hit me hard!"

Kagawa understood that Endo was a bit-part actor, a nobody, and he was betting his entire future on this. Twenty-three slaps—twenty-three in total, each one heavier than the last. Daisuke finally broke and spat out two words: "Iwaki!"

This was Azuma's cop friend. Kagawa finished watching the scene with a sinking feeling in his heart. Would this become a classic in the history of cinema?

(End of chapter)