Shin’ichi Chiba. Another world.
The floating world.
We struggle with what can be expressed. Our only means meanwhile our only limitation.
Language. To the edge of verisimilitude.
Perhaps the greatest of all karate movies. And yet no plot summary waiting to remind us.
This appears to be the final film directed by Kazuhiko Yamaguchi.
From the first iconic Toei breakers upon the rocks to the karate Karajan of the final plea for peace revenge.
Breathing into the ocean a righteous fire anger.
It is not the kung fu of China. Not solely the karate of Japan.
It is the story of Mas Oyama. Korean.
That said, it is Chinese martial arts…at the time of Japanese occupation…of South Korea.
It is also the story (very tenuously) of Kanji Ishiwara. A Japanese general unpopular for his opposition to Japan’s invasion of neighboring countries (like Korea).
All it takes is one good egg. Isn’t that what they tell us???
What is karate? 1963.
Strange in a stranger land. A land more strange.
Chojun Miyagi. Wax.
Wane on, wane off.
You want an anti-imperialist film? You want a political film?
Hear it is.
Her lips flaming with booze…ready to slice her wrists and end her pathetic life as a prostitute for U.S. airmen.
What would you do if you lived in Iraq?
All we have needed is a little encouragement.
The geometric equation of detractors.
We admire the beards of the Marxists and the Muslims.
What if Thoreau had retreated to Walden in order to perfect his ass-kicking skills?
Ah, but all good things must come to an end. T.B. sheets. Van Morrison meets La bohème.
Perhaps they were trigger-happy with the inscrutable conventions of French title capitalization.
Maybe it is the e.e. cummings of opera composers.
We wait for Satie. Erik.
Not to bore you, but judo and karate unite.
Enter The Dragon suffers. The lady from Shanghai prefers Yamaguchi.
Raging bull fights ox luchador.