Cold Fish (Japan: Sono Sion, 2010)

        Through its disturbing and unbalanced characters, in particular the film's protagonist Nobuyuki Syamoto (Mitsuru Fukikoshi), Cold Fish explores the evolution of insanity in the face of one's disillusionment about the nature of the planet we live on. When Syamoto's daughter Mitsuko (Hikari Kajiwara) gets caught for shoplifting, the exotic-fish dealer and his new wife Taeko (Megumi Kagurazaka) are introduced to fellow fish dealer Yukio Murata (Denden), an overly cheerful man who manages to get Mitsuko off the hook for theft on the condition that she works in his exotic fish shop where he hires and lodges troubled females youths (Mitsuko has been acting out in response to her father getting re-married so quickly, including giving a beatdown to her new step-mother). As Murata slowly gains the trust of both Taeko and Mitsuko, he, along with his wife Aiko (Asuka Kurosawa), begin to use Syamoto as an assistant in their extracurricular activities, which mainly revolve around serial homicide, or making people 'invisible', as Murata likes to call it. Supposedly based on true events, Cold Fish details Syamoto's downward spiral into the Muratas' twisted world of casual depravity. The former's fascination with astronomy is often invoked (through Planetarium footage) as a way to illustrate the discrepancies between Earth's beautiful, peaceful-looking surface seen from afar and its potentially ugly, degenerate character when viewed up close. This shattering of life's self-enforced illusions leads to Syamoto's mental unraveling, which culminates in drastic crimes of passion. While Sono's typically disturbing imagery is usually balanced out by polished and picturesque photography, the general cinematography in Cold Fish  consists of chaotic hand-held camera work that tries to mirror the protagonists' shocked bewilderment. When the camera remains still, however, we become privy to Sono's masterful composition and resplendent images. While the film's action and unstable camera movements pick up speed when the characters themselves get agitated (or excited), it is the moments of respite and inaction that are most satisfying.     

Miami Connection (U.S.A/ Hong Kong; Richard Park, 1987)

     It's hard to believe that just 25 years ago films like these were still being released on the big screen; thank God they did. Technically, this movie is a failure on all fronts: the actors are beyond bad and give an brand new meaning to over-acting , the script is as cheesy as it gets, the editing constantly missing a beat and the fighting choreography laughable (including victims holding back punches, just waiting in line to get their asses kicked); everything one might come to expect of a movie produced, written, (uncredited) directed by, and starring Y.K. Kim, a Tae Kwon Do champion with only one film to his credit (this one!). However, like many  forgotten cult films of the 80s, its technical shortcomings are its strongest appealing assets.
     The main story line follows Y.K. Kim and his martial arts rock band (that's right), named Dragon Sound, as they deal with violent pressure from the band whose gig they stole and the jealous, cocaine-dealing brother of one of the band member's new girlfriend. As everyone in the band (or in the whole movie) seems to be trained in some kind of martial art, every confrontation, beginning with an exaggerated yelling match, culminates in a fight of some kind, usually including stereotypical black or white ninja uniforms. The violence, hilariously graphic at times (made me think of Story of Ricky), is accompanied by attempts at drama that mark the film's funniest moments. The perfect films to watch drunk (or whatever else) with friends, Miami Connection is another great bad classic that lives up to high expectations of welcomed mediocrity.

Hatfields and McCoys (USA; Kevin Reynolds, 2012)

Watched part 2 of this engaging mini-series yesterday and while I have yet to see the conclusive episode, I still feel I've experienced enough of it to get the idea of what it has to offer (also I haven't watched anything really noteworthy lately). In dealing with the notorious 19th century family feud that existed between the McCoys of Kentucky and the Hatfields of West Virginia, this product of the History Channel is another strong argument for the present state of American television being much stronger and offering better material than the recent track record of mainstream American cinema. While the wide scope of the events covered in the series makes its subject ideal for television, its appeal strongly stems from its cinematic qualities, including striking photography, convincing production and costume designs, and generally strong performances (Tom Berenger's gritty portrayal of Jim Vance is especially powerful). The prevalent animosity that escalates between the clans of patriarchs Randall McCoy (Bill Paxton) and Anse Hatfield (Kevin Costner) leads to blood, blood and more blood as rebellious sons and gullible daughters constantly undo the possibilities for peace their parents attempt to shape; until peace just isn't an option anymore. Getting better as he gets older, Costner's performance and attention to historical detail make Hatfields and McCoys a strong and welcome addition to the recent Western television series such as Deadwood and  Hell on Wheels, making one wonder when the movies are finally gonna catch up.  

The Land of Hope (Japan; Sono Sion, 2012)

More tamed in content than the previous Sion Sono pictures that I have seen, The Land of Hope still manages to shock its audience with its inclusion of psychologically-questionable characters who all react differently to the omnipresent threat of radiation. Following the tsunami-caused explosion of a Japanese nuclear power plant in a small town, the lives of the Ono family are disrupted when their home becomes the cut-off line for the disaster's infected area, the radiation apparently unable to cross over yellow, "do not cross" police tape. This absurd treatment of radiation risk and containment sets the tone for the film's exploration of human reaction to invisible danger. From radiation phobia to the blissful ignorance of what can be assumed to be Alzheimer's disease, the film's characters all must learn to cope with both they're own fears and those of the ones they love. As families separate and villages grow deserted, the will to survive is continuously tested as individuals must learn to adapt to this inescapable result of technological 'advancement'. Beautifully shot as usual, Sono's latest effort is filled with low-key moments bursting with high emotion and sporadic humor that saves them from becoming all-out tragic. Finding hope in the most unusual places (even death), Land of Hope gracefully forces its audience to assume and confront their own views regarding one of today's most imminent geographical concern.