If VIOLENT COP was a Japanese genre film, BOILING POINT, Kitano's follow-up, is not anything at all other than a Beat Takeshi movie. A nearly confounding, almost aggressively individual vision, totally cock-eyed. The scale is on one level ambitious, on another grounded as hell. Shot and cut w/ such crispness and self–assuredness that only a cur would deny being in the hands of a master. Hanging out as ethos.
Il film è veramente interessante per la prima metà abbondante, quando si parla di baseball e della faccia di Kitano non c'è neanche l'ombra, però l'entrata in scena del regista coincide, ahimè, con un drastico calo di qualità. La storia diventa piatta e prevedibile, lasciando nella positività solo la regia, con la quale Kitano mantiene i suoi standard, realizzando delle inquadrature d'oro.
Yazuka criminals are causing havoc once again in another quirky offering from Takeshi Kitano. The director's unmistakable style of combining visceral brutality with off-beat humour is felt throughout Boiling Point, which creates for some unforgettable scenes and memorable characters. An entertaining film with Kitano at his most menacing, but it lacks the heart of Hana-bi and introspective qualities of Sonatine.
I can't understand why this movie is so underrated. Completely deserved in the sense of the director being able to define his style only already in his second movie. And with such a performance from every actor, besides Takeshi himself, makes this even better. Wish it would lasted at least two hours just to be able to appreciate the colour, the expressions and the landscapes.
It may be more original than his debut, Violent Cop, yet Boiling Point is a case of too many emotional tones at work. Sometimes a bleak crime picture, other times a hilarious film about maturing into masculinity, the narrative just isn't focused. The many clumsy detours in story/plot are also not fine-tuned. Therefore, it's an unfocused match of conflicting storylines that feel aimless, rather than well assembled.
Masterpiece of cause/effect editing patterns and precise compositions, one of the best films ever made about what it feels like to be punched in the face and what it feels like to do the hitting, and how fragile the line between sometimes is. Sometimes reminds of Tati, sometimes of Jerry Lewis. Does any other director get so much pleasure from filming himself being shot to death?