Ichi the Killer reviewed…or All Women are Bad
by a new friend of mine Shu of http://shunooz.blogspot.com
If one has never watched the Takashi Miike helmed film Ichi the Killer, you may be in for a treat but that really is dependent on what your sick fantasies or depraved sexual desires are. Ichi the Killer is not a film that can be categorized into one particular genre for it plays upon many levels of dark and sick perverse desires-most notably the sexual fetish of S&M. For those of you out there that get your cock hard or your pussy wet from viewing sexual gratification via a worn, black leather whip lashed upon tender, soft flesh accompanied by heavy moans of relief coupled with cries of genuine pain- you are in for some sexy, cinematic stylized fun via one of the most extreme films made to deafen your aural senses and burn disturbing images into your cornea.
The story of Ichi starts out like many Japanese flicks involving the Yakuza but very rapidly snowballs (sexual pun intended) into a love-story full of pain, heartbreak, rape, and bloodshed. I found as many elements of horror and sexual perversion rampant throughout this 129 min. feature as I did recounting quite a few of my dirtiest sexual fantasies running through my head that usually ended up with me waking to a raging hard-on that took only a few minutes of stroking to release a volcanic eruption of thick, milky cum shooting all over my belly.
Out story starts out with Ichi (Nao Omori) sneakily hiding out on the balcony of reputed Yakuza boss Anjo, watching as a prostitute is sadistically beaten to a fucking pulp to the sexual gratification of our aggressor. Ichi is busily pleasuring himself with each savage punch and backhanded slap to the once unmarked and welt-free woman. Ichi definitely has some issues with rape, violence, and abuse as all aforementioned subjects seem to kick-start his fantasies and work him up to a frenzy that usually ends up with him slaughtering all within eyesight. Our opening scene ends with Ichi shooting his load onto a potted plant on the porch, dripping down slowly over the edge of the leaf and spilling into a pool of cum. That pool of cum suddenly disperses and forms the title of the film. Never have I seen a film that already was pushing the envelope by having male sperm be part the opening title.
As our movie progresses from sexually repressed and socially inept, traumatized, violent psychotics we move on to Kakihara (Tadanobu Asano), a violent and ultra-sadistic henchman that gets his rocks off by being beaten and humiliated sexually and physically by his boss, Anjo, who now has gone missing. Kakihara is a true masochist and Anjo was his sadist- a perfect match and it seems that Kakihara was in love with Anjo and the pain he was able to inflict upon him. I did not feel that this relationship was homosexual in nature. I felt that Kakihara was just in love with the man (or woman) who was able to inflict the right amount of pain to get him off. Kakihara tries to have the extremely beautiful Karen (Paulyn Sun) try to fill the void. Kakihara is about as hardcore as one can get with his sadism and masochism, even going to far as to have to slits in his cheeks, allowing smoke to billow out when sucking on a cigarette, as well as multiple scars crisscrossing his face over his forehead and bridge of his nose. It looks as though his lips were cut so his mouth can open even farther, sloppily stitched up and adorned with many piercings. The dude even has his fucking tongue pierced at the edge with a hoop, no doubt so it can be yanked and pulled at a moment’s whim.
In one scene, we have Kakihara tied up in a BDSM dungeon of sorts and being whipped savagely by Karen. It is not enough, though. Karen is out of breath and seemingly exhausted in her attempts to sexually gratify Kakihara, who only seems to be falling short of reaching an orgasm because Karen can’t whip him hard enough and inflict the level of pain that he needs to successfully reach yogurt-blasting level. Finally, in frustration, Karen runs up on him and simply blasts him with a right hook. This level of violence and sexual exploration is tame in comparison to the scene in which the furby’s rape and sodomize the aforementioned prostitute who Ichi seems to have a thing for. There is one intense scene in which the woman’s nipple is cleanly sliced off from her breast. Any film that has a woman’s nipples sliced off in it will win me over for its level of sheer violence and sadistic nature. Ichi the Killer plays on violence as a form of eroticism: pleasure in pain. For those that are into BDSM, Ichi the Killer is the mainstreamed Japanese version of it, full of creative camera angles, shots, and cinematography.