Battle Royale (2000/01)
Distributor: Arrow
DVD/Blu-Ray Release Date: 13th December 2010
Directed by: Kinji Fukasaku
Starring: Takeshi Kitano, Tatsuya Fujiwara, Taro Yamamoto, Aki Maeda
Review by: Ben Bussey
Japan: the turn of the millennium. The nation is in a state of social and economic crisis. Unemployment and school truancy rates have skyrocketed. The government reacts in much the way most authority figures worldwide have tended to react this past century or so: they blame it all on the kids. And so, in a bid to get the little bastards back in line, an educational reform act is passed whereby random school classes will be forcibly shipped to an uninhabited island and given three days to kill each other. The last kid standing is the winner. If they don’t co-operate, they all die. And this time around, it’s the turn of Class B. Two years earlier these adolescents were under the tutelage of Kitano (portrayed by Takeshi Kitano, funnily enough), a highly disillusioned teacher who turned his back on education after a member of Class B stabbed him in the leg. Now he’s back to see them send one another to their graves.
Did you need that synopsis? Maybe; maybe not. I remain fuzzy on just how widely seen this film is internationally, given the well-documented problems it has had finding US distribution. But here in the UK where I am, I don’t think it’s any exaggeration to call Battle Royale a firmly established cult classic. Indeed, it’s so embedded in the fan consciousness that on approaching this new edition from Arrow I was at first taken aback to realise that the film is only a decade old. With its heavily armed teens in school uniform bloodily murdering one another over the soundtrack of Verdi’s Requiem, this is a film that clearly aims to be provocative and iconic. And it is very successful in that aim. Indeed, it says something for the film’s iconography that Arrow have foregone their signature white sleeve and original cover art with this DVD, opting instead for the film’s trademark blood-red BR logo on a black background. But Battle Royale has a great deal more to offer than stuff that looks good on posters and T-shirts. Plainly and simply, it’s a tour de force of contemporary cinema, as thrilling as it is thought-provoking, unmistakably Japanese yet transcending the boundaries of genre and nationality.
It’s interesting to revisit Battle Royale in the aftermath of A Serbian Film. The two films definitely share some common ground in that the surrounding controversy tends to overshadow the actual content of the films themselves. Not unlike A Serbian Film, Battle Royale has a wider agenda than just pissing off the moral minority; and while both films may have been born of specific regional anxieties, the themes explored resonate on a global scale. After all, it seems every nation is concerned with controlling its young, fuelled in recent years by horror stories (some exaggerated, some not) of classroom violence and teachers denied the right to defend themselves. Teachers like Kitano exist, for certain, and Takeshi Kitano does absolutely sterling work in the role, presenting us with a man so downtrodden as to be almost entirely devoid of emotion. He appears to take neither sorrow nor joy from what he does, wearing the same blank expression whether he’s committing murder, looking his own death in the face, or eating a cookie. The result is an intimidating yet oddly sympathetic character.
But the real protagonists are the teenagers. And here’s the ace up Battle Royale’s sleeve: they’re just an average, ordinary bunch of schoolkids. These are not some cutthroat rabble of gang members out to be the biggest badass on the block, they’re just typical adolescents concerned with typical adolescent stuff; who’s the coolest, who’s cutest. What makes the film so compelling is witnessing the different ways the teens react to being thrown into a kill-or-be-killed scenario: some branching off into groups whilst others go solo, some refusing to play ball whilst others willingly embrace murder. One of film’s most impressive attributes is how it well it makes use of such a broad ensemble, starting out as a class of forty-two pupils. Inevitably a select few tend to take the spotlight – the young would-be lovers Nakagawa and Nanahara (Maeda, Fujiwara), ‘transfer students’ Kawada and Kiriyama (Yamamoto, Masanobu Ando), and the sexually-charged psychopath Mitsuko (Kou Shibasaki) – but Kinji Fukasaku’s direction and Kenta Fukasaku’s script (from Koushon Takami’s novel) ensures that every cast member gets their time to shine, and happily none of them fall flat. Indeed, it may come as a surprise that we see so little of Chiaki Kuriyama, perhaps the most recognised of the ensemble since being immortalised as Gogo in Kill Bill Vol. 1.
This edition – which it should be noted is Region 0, like all Arrow releases (and that includes the Blu-Ray) – sports both the original 2000 theatrical cut, plus the 2001 special edition with specially shot additional footage. As to which is the superior cut; it will no doubt come down to personal preference, but to my mind the special edition doesn’t add a great deal of particular importance, comprising mainly of flashbacks which add a teeny bit of background context, plus a little added CG blood spray and muzzle flash, and most glaringly three epilogues. Alas, the additional end scenes do nothing to improve the film’s one major weakness: a rather feeble, easy and sentimental resolution. And please, in a film that boasts an otherwise impeccable soundtrack, couldn’t there be another special edition wherein the end credits don’t play out against such a horrendous soft-rock track? Sounds like the Japanese equivilant of Nickelback. Shudder.
The extras are an interesting lot, consisting largely of behind the scenes footage and coverage of the film’s release in Japan, all of which appears very fly on the wall. It’s intriuging to note the difference in tone between Japanese premieres and press conferences compared to those of Hollywood; there’s a distinct formality here, cast and director bowing to the audience and addressing them in hushed, respectful tones. It’s also made clear that the film being classified R-15, barring entry to those below that age, was regarded a big deal. This seems particularly curious from a British perspective, given that this DVD carries an 18 certificate from the BBFC; which, considering the level of bloodshed on show, seems appropriate enough. A good indicator of how attitudes toward film classification vary around the world, no doubt. All this will be great for hardcore fans, although it may not hold everyone’s interest; but well worth taking a peek at is a touching reenactment of the ‘How To Play Battle Royale’ sequence as a happy birthday message to director Fukasaku, who turned 70 during filming. And that only serves to make Battle Royale that bit more astonishing; that a man so old could craft a film that is not only bursting at the seams with youthful energy, but also speaks so effectively to, and of, the adolescent condition.
But enough of my rabbiting on. If you don’t own this film already, this is the edition to pick up. And if you’re quick enough to get one of the initial limited edition run of 5,000 there’s even more in the package which I’ve been unable to preview, including an exclusive comic, two supplemental booklets and picture postcards. But with or without all that extra stuff, you need Battle Royale in your life. It’s every bit as exhilarating today as it was ten years ago, and I’m hard pressed to see a time when it will not be regarded one of the greatest, most important films that Japan has ever produced.