The Genji and Heike gangs show down in a settlement named Utah, while a cliché stoic gunman comes to the support of what's left of the community, inspired by Sergio Corbucci's spaghetti western Django. I haven't seen Django, and actually I saw much more candid likeness to Kurosawa's Yojimbo and Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars.
The fast-paced action is well staged on a set that sponges both western and samurai ways of life. Miike jumbles both sensationalized gunplay and martial arts swordplay, which interact solidly in anticipation of the climactic fight, by which time we're practically exhausted. What may be the oddest facet of Miike's western, if you'll accept the odd/Miike redundancy, is his choice to apply a Japanese cast to speak English. It's a curious variety that initially feels like a gimmicky innovation, merely to blend into this aimless entertainment's wacky milieu. Nevertheless, it results keeping the characters two-dimensional and the audience aloof. Quentin Tarantino, who plays a bit role, speaks English as usual but with some gawky, cartoonish twang and tone of voice with the talent of an 11-year-old and no sense of cultural origin and no connection at all to the subject matter, obscure though it may be. I really wish he would either never act again, or learn how to portray a real human being and not some B-movie caricature, which no matter what role he's ever played is what he always does. He measures all of life to B-movie caricature.
Miike's typically cynical detachment from his work makes for another one of his zany spectacles, and with stunningly vivid production design. At the end of the day, this dispassionate flourish of style by itself is a very wearing encounter. This is not a film you become absorbed in but instead one that you're expected to watch with a nonchalant, half- sober feeling of sardonic lack of involvement. And some people like to watch movies that way. I don't think Miike has ever made a movie for everyone, even though he's made almost 70 in under 20 years. And for that I admire him.
The fast-paced action is well staged on a set that sponges both western and samurai ways of life. Miike jumbles both sensationalized gunplay and martial arts swordplay, which interact solidly in anticipation of the climactic fight, by which time we're practically exhausted. What may be the oddest facet of Miike's western, if you'll accept the odd/Miike redundancy, is his choice to apply a Japanese cast to speak English. It's a curious variety that initially feels like a gimmicky innovation, merely to blend into this aimless entertainment's wacky milieu. Nevertheless, it results keeping the characters two-dimensional and the audience aloof. Quentin Tarantino, who plays a bit role, speaks English as usual but with some gawky, cartoonish twang and tone of voice with the talent of an 11-year-old and no sense of cultural origin and no connection at all to the subject matter, obscure though it may be. I really wish he would either never act again, or learn how to portray a real human being and not some B-movie caricature, which no matter what role he's ever played is what he always does. He measures all of life to B-movie caricature.
Miike's typically cynical detachment from his work makes for another one of his zany spectacles, and with stunningly vivid production design. At the end of the day, this dispassionate flourish of style by itself is a very wearing encounter. This is not a film you become absorbed in but instead one that you're expected to watch with a nonchalant, half- sober feeling of sardonic lack of involvement. And some people like to watch movies that way. I don't think Miike has ever made a movie for everyone, even though he's made almost 70 in under 20 years. And for that I admire him.