By Joshua Cornelius

In many ways, without those intense opening scenes of Battle Royale the film simply wouldn’t work.  We needed an intense and complex character to bring us and the characters into the world of the film, a world where anything can and will happen.  For Kinji Fukasaku, prolific director of four decades of films, there was only one person to turn to – his friend, Takeshi Kitano.

In the film, Kitano plays the teacher (also named Kitano, in the kind of Gene Autry nod that infers Takeshi is simply playing his own hardened but vulnerable, nihilistic self) that oversees the game of death unfolding on the island.  ”Beat” Takeshi Kitano, as he is known, is one of those actors you know even though you have no idea what his name is.  One of the biggest stars in Japan, Kitano has been introduced to American audiences at least a half dozen times with relatively little notice by anyone outside of the cineaste snooterati.  The reason Kitano has been exported time and time again, and waved earnestly in front of your pudgy little American faces, is simply that he is a total badass.  He’s the closest thing Japan has to Clint Eastwood, and I’m putting it mildly when I say he’s quite a bit more talented.

Kitano got his start as one of the “Two Beats” in a traditional manzai comedy act.  ”Beat Takeshi” and “Beat Kiyoshi” would rapid fire jokes and insults back and forth at one another in the tradition of other two performer acts like Laurel and Hardy or Cheech and Chong.  Kiyoshi was the “straight man” while Kitano was the “funny man”.  What set “The Two Beats” apart from other manzai, was that Kitano had no problem being crude or sensationalistic.  So much so that Kitano’s act frequently raised the ire of Japanese censors.

His success as the better half of a comedy duo soon brought him work in films.  In 1983, Takeshi starred as Sgt. Gengo Hara alongside none other than David Bowie in Nagisa Ôshima’s Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence.  Bowie plays a British prisoner interred in a Japanese prison camp during World War II and his casting alone brought international attention to the film.

As Kitano’s fame grew, eventually “The Two Beats” were dissolved.  Kitano would later pay homage to this era with his film Kikujiro, named after his own estranged father and in which “Beat” Kiyoshi appears.  Kitano continued his work primarily in comedy, hosting game shows such as “Takeshi’s Castle” (redubbed two decades later as the Spike Network favorite, MXC) in which contestants were asked to navigate an absurdly challenging obstacle course in exchange for money while Kitano and his co-host berated their performance from the sidelines.  These themes of nihilism and absurdism crop up again and again in his work.  Kitano’s schtick for much of the late 80s was simply as ringmaster for a host of entertainment he’d created just to torture would-be players… and coincidentally point out the absurdity of attempting to achieve goals with no tangible merit.  It should be noted that for much of this time, Kitano was thought to be in a major depression.

Kitano’s bent towards this kind of work extended into four Famicom games (better known as the Nintendo Entertainment System in the States) that stated quite bluntly that they had been created by someone who hates video games.  Games like his “Takeshi no Chousenjou” (roughly translated as “Takeshi’s Challenge”) asked players to accomplish frustrating tasks, such as driving in a straight line for hours.  There are many interpretations to make from this love/hate relationship with his audience, but my own is that Takeshi sought to create something so maddeningly complex and pointless that it would force the participant to call into question the pursuit of other intangible things in their lives, much as he had.  I wonder then how Kitano feels now that “Takeshi’s Challenge” is considered a classic in Japan, and amongst the most difficult games ever produced.  Particularly when the entire message of the game seems only to be, “why play at all?”

In 1990, Kitano was signed on to star in a film called Violent Cop directed by none other than Battle Royale director, Kinji Fukasaku.  When Fukasaku resigned his duties due to illness, Kitano stepped into the directors chair for the first time.  With his own heavily revised script, the violent yakuza persona of Takeshi was born, along with a burgeoning career as filmmaker.  Kitano would go on to write and direct three more dramatic films (Boiling Point, A Scene at the Sea, and Sonatine) and his first comedy (Getting Any?) by 1994.  These films were of increasing popularity on the international market and Kitano became something of an arthouse commodity.  Kitano’s notoriety even lead to his casting as the heavy alongside Keanu Reeves in the William Gibson penned box office bomb, Johnny Mnemonic.  As before, his appearance in stateside fodder barely registered on the cultural radar.

Violent Cop found success with the addition of Kitano’s own spin on the yakuza tradition.  Instead of the loud, pompous windbags found in many films up the time, in his hands gangsters became meditative,  mute and inscrutable.  Themes of nihilsim and fatalism are pervasive in both Violent Cop and Boiling Point.  Kitano also established his own staccato style of framing and editing.  His auteur trademarks include long shots, sparse dialogue and a camera that won’t move for love or money; this last point being the characteristic that has led many to dub his films, simply, “boring”.

In late 1994, Kitano was involved in a terrible motorcycle accident that left one side of his body paralyzed.  The severity of his injuries was allegedly due to the fact that Kitano was not wearing a helmet at the time.  Many speculated that the accident was an attempt at suicide, and the nihilistic themes inherent in his films acted as a sort of notice of the directors state of mind.

More on “Beat” Takeshi Kitano and his life after the accident in Part 2!