“You live the life you choose.”
Some spectators might know Yu Nakamoto as a promising young director that has fully embraced genre filmmaking – Harawata Man (2019), Ikenie Man (2019), The Slit-Mouthed Woman Rises (2023). Yet, for Break Free, Nakamoto leaves the world of cult horror and exploitation cinema behind to offer a playful yakuza film that mixes action and dance. Yes, dance.
We, the spectator, are thrown into the narrative when Kunio (Akito Fujii), Kazu (Atomu Mizuishi) and Yama (Shigeo Osako) realize they have fallen into an all-you-can-drink trap (General-note 1). However, much to the surprise of the scammers, Kunio and his mates happen to be yakuza from the Mikami-gumi.
After beating the scammers to pulp, Kunio receives, much to his surprise, a phone call by Goto (Kenta Kiritani), one of his aniki. He accepts, yet not without a bit of reluctance, the command. He installs the disco ball he carries around, asks one of his mates to film, and starts dancing (General-note 2).
The opening sequence of Break Free does not only seek to surprise the spectator with a dancing yakuza, but also aims to deliver its narrative hook in a surprising way. While the mere appearance of a dancing yakuza on the screen, in our view, is enough to put the spectator in a good mood and pull him into the narrative, Nakamoto also arouses some intrigue by confronting the spectator with the orienting question: How did this threatening-looking Yakuza end up becoming a viral dance sensation?
Since the Anti-Organized Crime Law came into effect, the number of Yakuza have been in decline (General-note 3). Members are leaving the way of the yakuza [Gokudō] behind and try to find a way to inscribe themselves as normal citizens within the mundane societal field – e.g. Jiro (Wataru Ichinose) left the Mikami-gumi to open a yakiniku restaurant with his wife. The impact of the ordinances, moreover, have made many smaller gumi financially unstable and have forced those who hold on to the way, who shaped their ego radically in accordance with the traditional yakuza code, to find new sources of income.
The attempts by Kunio, Kazu and Yama, members of the ailing Mikami-gumi, to find new revenue streams for their boss (Yoshihiro Kurita) have sadly been unsuccessful – the unpaid bills accumulate. They fail to function in their part-time-jobs (e.g. food-courier, mascots, …) because their presence within the societal field is radically dictated by honour. Kunio’s way of apologizing is excessive, an act calling forth the radicality of the dogeza. Kazu’s attack on a civilian is a mere response to an imaginary injury, a violent lashing out which seeks to restore a sense of respect. And Yama’s destruction of the computer signals his frustration with female subject’s refusal to willingly objectify herself and offer herself up to his virility. With his light-hearted sequence, Nakamato affirms that the image of the yakuza is, at least within the conscious mind, linked with the phallic dimension and that an ego which heavily depends on phallic ideals of manliness is easily subjected to imaginary injuries, to stabs of castration.
One evening, after ex-yakuza Jiro chases two youtubers away with his threatening performance, Kunio learns from Kazu that young people are not only interested in YouTube anymore, but also in the short-film service tiktak – the film’s version of tiktok. The same night, after accidently witnessing a performance by Tiktakker Ririka (Ui Mihara) on the street, Kunio’s self-control is tested after a man he accidently bumped into begins a rant about yakuza having no right to live in society, the shameful status of having become a yakuza, and that he and his family are nothing but societal trash. To transform his pent-up anger into some kind of attack – to restabilize his injured yakuza-ego, he begins a personal dance-battle – a dance-attack that is not only filmed but also ends up going viral. Yet, how can the Mikami-gumi capitalize on this viral video? How can they turn it into a consistent stream of income? Kunio, Kazu and Yama embark on an adventure in a cultural phenomenon that is far removed from their own ‘honourable’ reality. However, this adventure might, at any time, derail – he must, despite putting himself in the spotlight, refrain from exposing himself as yakuza to the mundane Other.
Much of the light-heartedness in Break Free stems from exploiting the logic of ill-fitting – the culture of yakuza does not fit the mundane societal field – and radicalizing the structural friction between the subject and the Other – the struggle of the subject to inscribe his ego within the mundane Other. This reaches a kind of pun-like zenith in the way Kunio’s aniki forces the influencer-business into a yakuza-mould – e.g. cut finger if you miss quota.
Nakamoto, however, also adds a different kind of light-heartedness within his narrative by confronting the spectator with the fact that the ‘interactional’ ways of the yakuza, rather than being an isolated societal phenomenon, are part and parcel of the mundane societal field – e.g. the way dance teacher Marie (Mai Fukagawa) treats Kunio as potential costumer.
The heartwarming moments within Break Free are, in this respect, moments where the difference between differently structured egos fleetingly disappears, where the subjective effect of being subscribed to different codes of conduct – different Others – is temporarily dissolved, and some form of connection is attained. Dramatic moments, on the other hand, are function of a sudden re-emphasis on the (forced) incompatibility of the symbolic system of the yakuza with the logic of the mundane Other or caused by the sudden infraction of what we have learned in cinematic fantasies to accept as the yakuza’s truth.
Given the fact that Break Free is about yakuza, it comes to no surprise that the finale puts violence against dance, Kunio’s past against his present. Nakamoto, moreover, takes the opportunity to evoke something of the radicality of Ghandi’s anti-violence and the power of the audience with his finale. Yet, while Break Free is a pleasant film with a resolution that does right by Kunio’s as character, Nakamoto fails to reach the mood-making impact of his introductory sequence. While Matsumoto delivers everything one has come to expect of this kind of narratives – some drama, a pinch of sadness, and many heartwarming moments, he struggles to establish a sense of subjective urgency and allow Akito Fujii, who portrays Kunio, to make the emotional flow of the narrative come to full blossom.
The composition of Break Free offers a decent variety of shots (close-ups, medium close-ups, medium shots, slow zoom-out and zoom-in movements) and dynamic changes in pace. Yet, as the narrative progresses Nakamoto proves himself to underestimate the power of pacing. Nakamoto allows his narrative to lose steam because he does not support, at the level of his composition, the way Kunio resolves his subjective conflict. Break Free shows that the wrong compositional grammatic flattens the emotional flow of the narrative.
Nakamoto richly utilizes musical accompaniment throughout his narrative. Music is not merely used to smoothen the visual flow – to accentuate and enhance the impact of the dynamic composition on the spectator, but also to breathe life into the dramatic narrative turns and the dramatic flavour of the performances.
In action-scenes, musical accompaniment is exploited to add a flavour of coolness to the violent clashing of bodies. However, the true scopic pleasure of these scenes lies in Nakamoto’s effective combination of tracking dynamism – the visual emphasis on the motion of the physical attacks – and sounds to highlight the impact attacks have on the bodies subjected to them. Nakamoto, in other words, combines visuals and music in a pleasant and effective way that the spectator feels right at home in the light-hearted atmosphere called forth by this combination.
Break Free delivers a pleasant Rocky-like dance-narrative, yet Nakamoto struggles to develop his promising concept into an emotionally satisfying experience. He has all the right ingredients to deliver a touching celebrationBreak Free delivers a pleasant Rocky-like dance-narrative, yet Nakamoto struggles to develop his promising concept into an emotionally satisfying experience. He has all the right ingredients to deliver a touching celebration of the effect of finding what you really want to do in life can have on the subject, yet the experience he brews together begins with a strong first taste, but soon develops a rather bland after-taste., yet the experience he brews together begins with a strong first taste, but soon develops a rather bland after-taste.
Notes
General-note 1: The opening sequence utilizes the well-known danger touts and promoters pose in the night-life district. In some cases, they lure people with an appealing”all-you-can-drink” deal into hidden bars that hit the costumer with many hidden fees.
General-note 2: We think that everyone knows the phenomenon of adolescents setting up their phone is parks, shopping malls, and so on to replicate a viral dance while silently hoping their upload will blow up on the net.
General-note 3: The Organized crime exclusion ordinances are a set of ordinances aimed at cutting the members of yakuza-groups off economically as well as socially from the mundane societal field, to extinguish their power by restricting citizens from associating with them.