Spectators, who know Masato Harada from his roles in The Last Samurai and Fearless, might be surprised that his oeuvre as director far outstrips the scope of his acting-career. Since 1979, he has consistently churned out films and explored many different genres – crime, Sci-fi tokusatsu, drama, historical drama, samurai film, … etc. With Hell Dogs, he returns to the crime genre to give deliver his creative interpretation of Akio Fukamachi’s novel. While there is much to like in Harada’s adaptation, the film ultimately ends up being a very frustrating experience, especially for fans of the crime genre. 

Harada’s film tells the tale ofGoro Idezuki (Junichi Tokada), a cop who is forced to become an undercover agent by the Metropolitical special Crimes to avoid being put to trail for bloody ravage he left to punish those who murdered his love-interest. His assignment is to infiltrate the Kozu family and help them eradicate the Expelled, a violent splinter group set out to take control of the crime syndicate. Chief Anai (Yoshi Sakou) orders him to join the Hell Dogs, the special unit of the crime syndicate responsible for fixing problems and overseeing the syndicate’s overseas expansion, and rise the ranks. To do so, Goro, now called Tak, must to pick a fight with Muro (Kentaro Sakaguchi), the ‘psycho-boy’ who thirsts to be a hero.

Hell Dogs is a film that starts on the wrong foot and, sadly, does not succeed to right the limp in its narrative structure. The opening-sequence offers the spectator nothing other than a series of disappointments. Harada, to establish the contextual frame for his narrative – the exposition, fuels the spectator’s expectations, only to radically deflate them with a time-jump. We are, for example, led to anticipate the first encounter between Goro and Muro, yet are suddenly thrown many years later to see both, now buddies, complete an overseas job.     

Harada’s film is, moreover, a babbling meandering river whose direction remains obscure for a long time. While many spectators will enjoy the rather unhurried glance at the inner-workings of the incorporated yakuza by following Goro and Muro’s trajectory, Harada’s narrative lacks that element of intrigue that would pull more spectators into his narrative. 

The absence of such element is caused by Harada’s choice to give the main narrative thread – Goro’s pursuit to destroy the Expelled – a secondary status within the overall structure of the narrative. While Goro’s pursuit could have been utilized to give the unfolding of Hell Dogs a certain sense of urgency and a lingering quantum of tension, it is initially reduced as a frail support for the meandering exploration of the layered presence of the yakuza within the societal field.  

Around the half way point of the film, Harada re-animates the a-dramatic narrative flow with an ebb and flow of tension – to build up to the narrative’s denouement and prepare the spectator for its violent finale. The tension bursts forth due to two narrative developments: Goro’s cover might, at any time, be blown and George, Goro’s last target, is getting into his reach.

Even though this rise in tension results in some truly satisfying action sequences, these surges of violence fail to reduce the distance most spectators feel towards Goro as character. Harada’s failure to give his narrative a sense of intrigue – the spark that would pull many spectators into the narrative – is thus not merely caused by the strange narrative structure but also by the way he brought Goro alive on the screen (Acting-note 1). Harada’s reserved approach to Goro’s subjective motivation makes it quite difficult for the spectator to put himself, in a phantasmatic manner, in his shoes.  

While some spectators won’t have any problem to relish Hell Dogs in such detached manner, a more intimate character-driven approach would have created a more refined emotional fabric that would have been able to fully satisfy those who seek the thrills and narrative turns of a crime-thriller. The lack of such refined emotional flow ultimately renders the quite a-dramatic finale emotionally impotent – a pun without any punch. 

At the thematical level, Harada fails to present the themes many yakuza-narratives, in one way or another, traverse in a refreshing manner. The film offers a simple tracing out of the threat that emanates from the overvaluation of the ego as image.

While the imaginary, by emphasizing similarities and sameness – ego and alter-ego, can give certain bonds their stability, the edges of the field of imaginary are volatile frontlines. The volatile nature of the imaginary is underlined by how Muro threats those who remains other to him, those who he cannot consider his equals. He either joyously controls these expendables via threats or, in the worst case, by reducing them to violated sacks of dead meat and blood.     

The interactional frictions between the members of the Hell Dogs emphasize how the symbolic dimension of honour and respect dooms most members to merely realize superficial bonds with each other. By structuring interactions around the dynamics of honour and respect, one automatically overvalues one’s ego and the resulting bonds remain frail and inherently aggressive. What blossoms is an interactional battlefield where a rain of verbal bombs inflict imaginary injuries and reparative attacks are initiated – only the signifier from the boss can force a temporary ceasefire. While most frictions only amount to a verbal flexing with muscles – playful jests, crude boasts and snarky remarks, the destructive potentiality of these interactional clashes is obvious.  

The second thematical thread concerns the unseen integration of organized crime into the societal field. Hell dogs shows that, behind the legal organisational facade, a criminal dynamic is at work that aims to generate profit through illegal means (e.g. money laundering) and by exploiting the subject’s search for enjoyment (e.g. selling of drugs and narcotics, pachinko, … etc.) and his wish to satisfy transgressive sexual desires and the desire for illegal products of luxury (e.g. ivory trade). Harada, moreover, touches upon the fact that crime syndicates safeguard their unseen position of power within the societal field by establishing backroom connections with the law and politicians and by gathering compromising info in those who might form a threat to their position. 

The composition of Hell Dogs is full of dynamism – fluid and rough (Colour-note 1). The visual flow is inviting for the spectator, yet the discordance between the compositional flow and the rhythm of the narrative diminishes the effect of the former. One cannot run, while walking. Harada turns to shaky dynamism for various reasons: to amplify the tension within interactions, to foreshadow the violence that will burst forth once the verbalized signifier has died down, and to underline the crudeness of the fights.

The action-choreographies are short and down-to-earth; the impact of the acts of violence is more implied than shown – blood splatters within the frame and dull and swishing sounds evoke the brutality of the off-screen attacks. It is obvious from Harada’s framing that he does not seek to glorify the violence nor emphasize its transgressive excess.  While certain spectators will except more from these violent confrontations – ‘Show more, please!’, the brawls and shout-outs do fulfill their aim, evoking the volatile world of the criminal underworld.  

With Hell Dogs, Harada delivers a derivative combination of themes and images that many other yakuza-films have explored and visualized much better. If one is new to the yakuza genre, Harada’s film might offer an engaging glance at the dynamics that structure the Japanese world of crime, yet for the hardened fan of the genre, Harada’s newly bottled old wine will be a frustrating experience that delivers nothing more than a sprinkle of excitement.

Notes:

Acting-note 1: While Junichi Okada delivers a great performance, Harada’s fails to exploit his performance to engage the spectator with his narrative. Visually speaking, Harada is unable to give the cold, detached presence of Tak an inviting coolness and, narratively, he forgot to exploit his hidden, yet sensible emotional undercurrent.  

Colour-note 1: What stands out the most in the film’s colour design is the darkness that lingers within the visual frame. Shadows are subtly omnipresent, echoing the shadowy nature of the crime syndicate’s presence within the societal field.