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[The Pinky Violence Collection] Girl Boss Guerilla movie review

Like the great Seijun Suzuki, or today’s Takashi Miike, Norifumi Suzuki (Sex & Fury, Terrifying Girls’ High School: Lynch Law Classroom) was never content with making a straight genre piece, much less art. Suzuki sought to make films of interest to himself, often resulting in rapid tonal shifts from stylistic action, to gonzo comedy, to social satire, to serious drama, to pink film, and back again. For the audience, this is a great thing, as you are never quite sure what the next scene of his films may have in store.

The third film in the sukeban series, Girl Boss Guerilla opens with Miki Sugimoto and her Red Helmet gang rolling into Kyoto on a money making mission. Suzuki starts immediately with his skewering of groups he deems societal hypocrites. Within minutes The Red Helmets lay the smack down on a group of cat-calling male biker-poseurs and con a random sampling of the status quo, including a grieving widower, a tourist couple, anti-nuke protestors, and a high-moraled married man (fresh out of a porno house no less). Their actions catch the attention of the local girl gang leader, whom Miki then picks a fight with, and topples, thus establishing the Red Helmets as the premier girl gang in K-Town. What follows are a further series of tonal shifts between action, touching romance, hilarious comedy, and serious drama (peppered with catfights and artsy nudity, of course), as The Red Helmets further their presence in Kyoto, repeatedly stepping on the toes of the local yakuza in the process, and leading the film toward its much darker third act.

Though it doesn’t have the visual panache of his Sex and Fury, Girl Boss Guerilla does share the brightly colored, kinetic energy of that film. Worthy of note are the beachside sex scene involving Miki Sugimoto, itself an homage to the iconic From Here to Eternity beach scene, complete with lapping waves caressing the legs of the lovers, and the opening motorcycle gang-intro, clearly a direct influence on the Crazy 88 intro-bike sequence from Kill Bill volume 1, with ultra smooth tracking shots and blaring trumpets. Keen observers will notice that the close-up of Miki Sugimoto used in this scene was not actually taken on the highway, but in a city location, and is repeated later in the film at the start of the third act. Other areas of possible cinematographic interest include the opening fist fight, and the fight between Reiko Ike and Miki Sugimoto. Though I usually don’t care for closely shot fights, in this case the snap-zooms and quick pans do help to transmit the crazy, tooth and nail nature of the fight to the audience.

Miki Sugimoto and Reiko Ike do an admirable job given the material. Initially I can’t say I was a true fan of either, Miki especially, being a bit too vacuous Lucy Liu for me, but with this film they have started to grow on me. At the time Toei was trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to instigate a rivalry between the two women, Miki being brought in to replace Reiko as resident screen queen as Ike began to tire of the endless nude and similarly compromising sequences she was subjected to, however no real animosity between the women is apparent on screen. Reiko’s performances are always aided by here large, emotive eyes, and in this film they run the gambit of wistful stares to hate filled glances. Miki’s romance with the boxer has a surprising weight, though I am not sure if it is due to her performance or just the general heavily dramatic nature of the romance in Japanese cinema.

My only gripe with the film is the fact that, as with Suzuki’s Sex & Fury (and later to a much stronger degree in his infamous School of the Holy Beast), there is insertion of an out of place, creepy chain-torture sequence, this time involving lead Miki Sugimoto, bamboo sticks, and a lit candle between her legs. Thankfully the scene does not last long, and is nowhere near as disturbing and gratuitous as scenes in recent American horror releases of late, but I don’t believe it was particularly integral to the plot. It’s worth noting the sequence alone in the hands of a lesser director could derail the whole picture, Suziki still manages to restore the film to its previous carefree cool by the final frame.

There’s far more happening in Girl Boss Guerilla than one can note in a single review. Sure, some of it’s puerile, trashy, and strange, but others are of a genuinely interesting and thought provoking nature such that even your run of the mill exploitation-poo-pooing film scholar cannot deny. It may not be Suzuki’s best film, but it’s undeniably fun.

The Disc:

As with Delinquent Girl Boss: Worthless to Confess the picture and sound have been restored to their original brilliance from the original vault materials. Special features include galleries of production photos and theatrical posters, the original theatrical trailer, production notes, and director and star bios. The commentary track featuring Panik House president Matt Kennedy and Asian cult cinema columnist Wyatt Doyle is lively and informative; like having two elite film buds watching the picture with you. A well rounded disc geared toward the cult enthusiast.

About the Author:

Chris Nelson is a Technical writer in the Silicon Valley. He is currently studying for a Software Engineering degree at San Jose State University. He has been a film fanatic since Age six.

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Tags: Miki Sugimoto, Norifumi Suzuki, pinky violence, Reiko Ike, sukeban