Review: How is it that a Japanese film colossus like Teruo Ishii has only a small trickle of exposure in North America? You'd think his sprawling filmography would have found a home on shelves next to the Suzukis and the Kurosawas (both of 'em even), but that's not the case. If you're looking for Ishii flicks on this side of the ocean, you're probably knee-deep in a Chinatown tent shop or learning Japanese on the quick surrounded by region 2 discs and an empty checking account.

This should be exciting though, not discouraging. From SUPER GIANT (1957) and its sequels to the legendary Edo-era torture flicks and his eventual sans-studio work, Ishii's catalog is ideally set to be the "next big thing." Hell, despite his open disdain for martial arts movies, he made two completely bonkers (read: incredible) EXECUTIONER films in 1974 with Sonny Chiba (which are set for a subbed region 1 release by Adness). Ishii spent so long taking studio orders like "Make Ken Utsui's (SUPER GIANT) package look bigger" and "Make more and more and more ABASHIRI PRISON films (a long running popular '60s series starring Ken Takakura) until your head explodes" that his turn to the independent side with movies like JIGOKU is no surprise at all.

1999's JAPANESE HELL (JIGOKU) is as good a place to start as any. Though Nobuo Nakagawa's 1960 film of the same name set the standard, there are only a few things that Ishii's version shares with the original. The spirit's still there in this remake though; it's the setting that has changed drastically. Multiple tales of the immoral share bookends that visualize Hell as a typically torturous and bleak pit, but these are real people. Somewhere in someone's head, "Back to life, back to reality" is droning in and out to the beat of this scenario.

The details don't fall on the sets themselves, which are really just darkly painted rooms with scattered rocks and smoke machines. The "meat" of Ishii's Hell is thick on the bones of the punished, who enjoy slow and vicious torture sequences. The blood runs bright red and, in contrast to the minimal set design, there's some really outstanding makeup work (especially on the demons). Different levels of Hell are explored, and the sound stage look of the film actually allows for a lot of freedom in other departments. Consequently, a rainbow of colors flow behind the Queen of Hell, rotting heads reflect neon green, and the blue hue of the river styx bounces boldly out of the television set. Hell has never been so sickeningly bright, like a red traffic light welcoming those who cross it to an early grave.

Because of the way this combines with the slower pace of the dramatic scenes, the moral of the story doesn't try for subtlety in any way. Rather, it pronounces its message on a massive, scrolling, electric-neon banner for everyone to see. In an interview in Asian Cult Cinema magazine (no. 28) shortly after the time of JIGOKU's release, Ishii admitted that he had never planned on making a "preachy" movie, or a movie with such an overt and unwavering message, but he made this one the way it is because he was just plain pissed off.

And there's plenty to be pissed off about. Miyazaki (not Hayao) molesters and cult leaders bust out dirty deeds on their inevitable paths to hades. It really helps to be at least somewhat familiar with the culprits in question here, especially the AUM Shinrikyo cult that was most notorious for the sarin gas attacks on Japan's subways. Founder Shoko Asahara is portrayed in the same scuzzy, unkempt way he always appeared. The majority of the movie is spent following his deceptive ways while leading the cult, planning gas attacks and luring women into his bedroom with the promise of enlightenment. It's a bit much at times, a little over the top (as if that's a bad thing), but it drives the point home with no room for argument. This guy is going straight to Hell.

The cast plods along admirably with some made-for-TV style performances that mix well with the barren backdrops/deadly serious atmosphere contrast. The transition between their solemn and slow upper-Earth scenes and the Gwar-esque underworld landscapes of despair is almost comedic. A self-referential nod rounds out the insanity of the film, as Tetsuro Tamba slides onto the screen reprising his role from Ishii's own PORNO JIDAI-GEKI. The short scene is like some savage time capsule explosion; the perfect exclamation point to punctuate the movie with.

If you're into JAPANESE HELL, you'll likely find yourself in a Teruo Ishii snowball right away, searching for import gems and bugging Media Blasters and other companies to hurry up and release more of his movies. That's not to say that this movie is representative of his oeuvre, but it's still a wild (and actually semi-informative) time in the hot, hot heat.

You can love it or you can laugh at it, but don't just sit there during the finale while everyone else dances.

Shortly after this review was written, Teruo Ishii passed away at the
age of 81. He will be missed, but his films will keep him alive.