Female Prisoner Scorpion: The Complete Collection (1972)(Review)

More often than not exploitation cinema has laid in the bed it has made, keeping away from art, influence or acclaim. Exploitation is generally an isolated home for those who want to craft transgressive, liberated cinema – qualities that usually lead forwards bad taste. There are always exceptions, films which embody both the sleazier side of exploitation with a sensibility that could be embraced by the wider film community, such exceptions are rare but they do exist. Falling well within the dominion of Japanese pink cinema, Toru Shinohara’s manga series was adapted by debuting director Shunya Ita – that film has since become the pinnacle of the ‘women in prison’ arm of exploitation in Female Prisoner Scorpion #701. That film’s success gave birth to 3 sequels in Jailhouse 41, Beast Stable and 701’s Grudge Song (which saw Ita depart), all of which has been released in a glorious remaster by Arrow Video.

Female Prisoner Scorpion #701 is an upsetting film: Meiko Kaji is betrayed by her lover, raped, imprisoned and subsequently tortured by both the prison officers and her fellow inmates. It’s unimaginable to think of the impact that some of the harsher scenes had back in 1973, especially with a proportion of the middle act seeing Kaji hogtied and left completely vulnerable. Films influenced by Kaji’s star-making turn embraced the more distressing qualities of Ita’s debut, talking the extremes further and further into the realm of bad taste. While nudity and rape are never too far away, sex became a far bigger part of the puzzle Post-Scorpion. However, the cathartic release when Kaji’s Matsumoto returns the aggression others loaded onto her (earning her Scorpion moniker) is far more satisfying than anything its cruder offspring offered.

#701 cemented its status as a landmark of 1970s Japanese cinema for many reasons, none of which are as profound as the rallying call at the film’s heart. Consider the country of Japan for a moment, both misogyny and racism are endemic and given the horrific treatment Nami (Kaji) is subject to, she becomes a cypher for the downtrodden. As this avatar, the disgusted thousand-yard stare Kaji gives to anyone who wrongs her develops a meaning far richer than the surface may imply. Female Prisoner Scorpion 701’s icon is significant, whether this is earned through the discourse of exploitation matters little.

The stunning cherry on the cake is the gorgeous and inventive stylistic flourishes, integrating touches from kabuki theatre, glam rock and the American stage production. The cinematography is undeniably standout but only part of the immensity of Ita’s vision. The visual identity is loud and colourful with more examples of beguiling beauty than could ever be expected for a mere ‘women in prison’ film; however, two scenes leave the biggest footprints.

When our anti-hero is raped by the colleagues of her boyfriend and as she lays, huddled, devastated and naked on the floor, the wall of the set rotates to reveal the office of those who decided on using Keji as the fall guy to pin all their corruption upon. With a glorious depth of field, Keji lays still on the floor in the foreground as her conspirators illuminate the depth of their corruption and depravity in the background. Applying set design comparable to a TV game show creates a new dramatic and stylish zenith for something as simple as a wall rotating. Later during one of Matsumoto’s rare moments of relative freedom, a fellow inmate develops a blood-lust after having had her murder attempt thwarted. Lost in anger, her face becomes contorted with Kabuki makeup and the lighting and score developing a penchant for glam rock almost as if Ziggy Stardust developed a liking for revenge.

Nami Matsumoto truly becomes the titular Scorpion in a prison riot before escaping and earning her revenge, in that the film closes the book conclusively. Looking at any other anti-establishment Japanese genre franchises of the time and dread would be an understandable conclusion, most sequels recited and repeated their earlier formula ad infinitude. Ita doesn’t get enough credit for going against the tide, 701 is completely different from Jailhouse 41 and Beast Stable. The 2nd film, Jailhouse 41 is more of a road trip/criminals on the run film, with each character getting a development that was sorely lacking in the previous film and Scorpion evolving into a force of nature.

Change is inevitably focused on Meiko Kaji, here her character becomes more enigmatic with the film subject to the same evolution too. Although fleetingly present in #701, the skylines are substituted for matte paintings awash with oranges, reds and browns, with the outstanding Blu-ray print featured on Arrow’s boxset these images become even more overwhelmingly beautiful. These stand-alone images remind of another 70s Japanese oddball, Nobuhiko Obayashi’s 1977 horror Hausu. Between Obayashi and Ita, there is something of a reciprocal otherness. As the gang of escapees charge across the countryside they happen upon an elderly woman, perhaps the vision of what Scorpion could become. Reaching her limit, she collapses dead on the forest floor after which the wind covers her with leaves that subsequently blow away in the breeze leaving no sign she was ever there at all. This other-worldliness continues with the desolation and scarred colour scape invoking apocalyptic connotations through style alone.

The law eventually catches up with the escapees and unlike the first film, this represents a new future for its anti-hero lead. The final shot of 701 saw her willingly return to prison, accepting her punishment, with the end of Jailhouse 41 she escapes in the confusion of killing the corrupt prison guards – free at last. A conclusion which represents the continual development of her status as an avenger against the corrupt state. The third film, Beast Stable shares a great deal of commonality with the genre pictures filmed in New York in the 1970s. This Tokyo is a dank, savage place where prostitution runs rampant. This is cemented by the one friend Scorpion makes – a prostitute who is raped on a near-daily basis by her brain-damaged Brother and when she isn’t being raped her friend is victimized by the local Yakuza. Beast Stable is as far away from subtle as a film can get.

Weaker than the first two thanks to a segment that coasts on Scorpion hiding in the sewers accompanied by the near-endless calls of Scorpion as her friend drip-feeds bread into the drains. A striking image of lighting and contrast, no doubt, but tedium inevitably sinks in. Thankfully, Ita veers past boredom by never resting on his laurels as a visual storyteller. Those matte painted skies and their swirling vortex’s of colour and chaos will never get old, however, there is another scene that owns the honour of ranking among the greatest kill scenes committed to film. When Scorpion finally catches up with the pimps, Yakuza and tormentors to get revenge on both her and her friend’s behalf there is an absolute lack of violence. Instead, Scorpion (Kaji) dances around an empty, sterile white room with a blade in her hand, each thrust and slice of the blade sprays blood across the pristine white of the room; a gorgeous, inventive scene that depicts extreme violence with a one of a kind artistry.

With the oddest of all endings, Scorpion ends up serving an almost irrelevant prison sentence – in that Beast Stable marks the end of what has to be one of exploitation cinema’s crowning glories in this near-perfect trilogy. The point in which series director Shunya Ita departed he is replaced by a director who has more in common with the new Female Prisoner Scorpion cash-ins which came in the wake of this trilogy thanks to Pinky violence director, Yasuharu Hasebe. 701’s Grudge Song is the story that has been told a thousand times before, a popular genre or exploitation film inspires scores of inferior imitations, only Hasebe has achieved this within the same franchise. This film has more in common with the lesser “new” female prisoner scorpions helmed by the likes of Yutaka Kohira a few years later.

Here, Scorpion finds a kindred spirit, one whose character background is both hazily set up and dropped without a moments notice and while far from important it is indicative of the lack of ambition or craft. The fourth and final entry hits all the same plot points that came before without adding anything of its own. And while this is perfectly fine and just as enjoyable that ever-important soul has gone walkabout. The only time Grudge Song finds its feet is in the last 20 minutes with the escape and final execution scene, even then that brilliance comes from that ever-present expressive lighting and matte paintings. Unoriginal as this may be, those matte painted sky’s are a fine way end this legendary saga.

There can be no dressing up of the successes of this box set, Arrow Video have issued one of the finest home video releases of the year. With the enthusiasm of Gareth Evans (The Raid) and Midnight Eye alumni, Tom Mes and Jasper Sharp, gorgeous Blu-ray restorations, new visual and written essays and perfectly stunning new artwork by Ian MacEwan and this is as complete as a complete collection could be. These films are among the very best exploitation has ever enjoyed, with their meaning beyond the surface, artistic merit and an influence that stretches far beyond the costume design in Love Exposure and Kill Bill. A near-perfect trilogy in a near-perfect release, think of the additional fourth movie as Scorpion’s very own Bourne Legacy and all will be fine. Otherwise, this standout is a must-buy for anyone with even a passing interest in the genre shenanigans that have seen Arrow Video stretch across both sides of the Atlantic.

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