Come the late ’60s the Japanese film industry was floundering, hurt by the rise in popularity of television and the constant influx of Hollywood movies to satisfy an ever present American contingent. Japanese films seemed tired and out of ideas, so budgets were cut and the rise of exploitation cinema began. Many turned to violence, while others (mainly Nikkatsu and their Roman Porno films), embraced nudity, but it was Toei that blended the two, releasing a wave of action movies, primarily with female leads – sometimes with nudity, but always with violence.
This gave birth to such over the top movies as Sex & Fury (1973), The Stray Cat Rock (five films made between 1970 and 1971) and Zero Woman: Red Handcuffs (1974). It would make stars of Reiko Ike, Meiko Kaji and Miki Sugimoto, and while others were doing their bit to revive the homegrown film industry (also see Shinichi “Sonny” Chiba and Shintaro Katsu), nothing sells better than sex and violence, and these films had plenty of both.
By the time 1984 rolled around the Japanese film industry was again in danger of collapsing, this time down to mismanagement and increasing costs. The system that had provided so many great movies and huge stars was in big trouble, and it wasn’t helped by Japan’s focus on consumer and electronic goods. Who had time for the arts when there’s money to be made from Walkmans? Thankfully this didn’t stop many from trying, and one such director was Toshiharu Ikeda, who took the base template of the pinky violence and wove a tale that reflected the climate in Japan at the time. Big business was the way forward and the old ways put to bed – whether this was making smaller and smaller microchips or investing in the future that was nuclear power, nothing can stand on the way of progress, not even lives.
Mermaid Legend (a retrospective UK Premiere at this years Frightfest ahead of a broader release later in the year) is something of a rarity in that it’s a film that both exploits, but also rewards its audience. Murder and corruption are laced throughout, but there’s also an anarchic feel to everything, which is primarily due to the use of handheld cameras at every given opportunity, but also because of the pace at which this moves once it gets going – despite it taking a while to get there. Don’t take that as a negative though, as rather than calling the run up to our tale of revenge “slow”, a more apt description would be “considered”. We take our time with those most impacted by the decisions of the scheming wealthy, who have not only their livelihoods taken from them, but in some cases, their very lives as well.
It’s at this juncture that it needs to be pointed out – Mermaid Legend doesn’t shy away for the vulgarity of revenge. Those already familiar with such movies from Japan will be aware of the constant use of rape and sexual violence, but anyone new may find this excessive and crass. However, if the same credence is given to this as, say, I Spit On Your Grave/Day Of The Woman, or even Thelma & Louise, then there is a purpose – a disgusting and bloody purpose, but a purpose nonetheless.
Mari Shirato excels as our woman scorned – someone who seeks revenge after witnessing the murder of her husband, only to discover how deep the cesspool of murder and corruption goes. Her commitment is far greater than many of these films warrant, but it’s her performance that gives Mermaid Legend its unique appeal. This isn’t just Meiko Kaji looking cool or Reiko Ike being a whirling dervish of naked violence – Mari Shirato puts her soul into this, and it shows. So much so, she would pick up the Best Actress award at the 6th Yokohama Movie Awards, along with Toshiharu Ikeda winning for Best Director.
Mermaid Legend may not be indicative of the Japanese film industry, but it’s a reflection of a time. Desperate times require desperate measures, and this film exudes that desperation to give birth to a cacophony of violence so vulgar-yet-impassioned that it’s hard to ignore.
Mermaid Legend has a retrospective UK Premiere at Frightfest 2024
