The influence that French New Wave had on Japanese cinema throughout the 60s can never be understated. With its swathes of nihilism and cool tragedy, it seemed that one perfectly reflected the emotions of the other, as all sides (just 15-20 years removed from World War II) these children of the bombs were angry and lost in a world that had already robbed them of so much, wrapped up in a jazz soundtrack. Nagisa Oshima even went as far as to taking the title of Alain Renais’ unflinching documentary Night and Fog (1954) and infusing the complex tone and structure of Renais’ other masterwork, Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959). The result was the making of his own commentary on Japanese society through politics and regret in Night and Fog in Japan (1960). So whilst the French New Wave was very much in its infancy in the early 60s, Japan was watching and taking notes, lots of notes – this is no more evident than in Kinji Fukasaku’s Wolves, Pigs & Men (1964).
Already on his 6th film, and exuding the confidence that his experience allowed him, Fukusaku-San would take a well established formula that had been set by Nikkatsu’s “Borderless Action” movies (see Mark Shilling’s excellent book “No Borders, No Limits” for more on the Nikkatsu wave of action cinema, published by Fab Press) and mould it to something far more contemporary.
A post-war voice with post-war views, lacing the visual soundtrack with images of Miles Davis and Billy Vaughn records strewn tables and a lazy morning feel not often associated with Japanese cinema. Wolves, Pig & Men isn’t interested in telling a traditional tale, instead opting to use its platform to show underlying emotions outside of the usual male ego and bravado that had become so prevalent in other Japanese crime/Yakuza movies.
Wolves, Pig & Men may lack a lot of the bombast and structure that would later define Kinji Fukasaku’s crime films), but it does plant the seeds of what was to come later in a career littered with masterpieces
Ken Takakura, Kinya Kitaōji and Rentarō Mikuni play three brothers, all born in the slums, but with three very different futures. The eldest left the family home to work his way up in the Iwasaki Organisation (a local crime family), the middle brother left under a cloud of betrayal after stealing money from his hard up family and fleeing, thus leaving the youngest to look after their ailing mother. It is upon the passing of their parent that the lives of the three brothers once again become entangled and a path of deceit and betrayal is laid out ahead of them.
Whilst it’s easy to see how the title of this film reflects the characters of the three brothers, the complexity of their relationship – balancing personal prosperity with family commitment and what that ultimately means to each of them – they also don’t slot into traditional roles usually associated with such characters. The youngest brother, Sabu may lack the social skills or etiquette of his eldest brother, or the conniving schemer of his middle brother, yet Sabu’s loyalty and determination is the glue that binds his group of friends that have been with him throughout, something the other brothers are unable to grasp.
Wolves, Pig & Men may lack a lot of the bombast and structure that would later define Kinji Fukasaku’s crime films (such as Battles Without Honour and Humanity or the twisted narrative of Yakuza Graveyard), but it does plant the seeds of what was to come later in a career littered with masterpieces, making Wolves, Pig & Men a fascinating addition to any collection. Filled with extras, including a Jasper Sharp commentary and a whole host of interviews with major players in the making of Wolves, Pig & Men, consisting of screenwriter Junya Satō, producer Tatsu Yoshida and Kinji Fukasaku biographer Sadao Yamaha, Eureka Entertainment once again offer up a loving release and a worth tribute to one of the great Japanese movie directors.
Wolves, Pigs & Men is out now on Eureka (Masters of Cinema) Blu-Ray
