R100

For writer/director Hitoshi Matsumoto, escapism, ecstasy and embarrassment are intertwined; what helps alleviate the misery of mundane lives can equally inspire elation and unease. His latest effort, R100, offers multiple levels of comedic contemplation of this theory, centred on an ordinary salesman’s attempts to find an outlet for his everyday frustrations. The coping mechanism he pursues taps into his deepest desires, but comes complete with strange and unforeseen consequences.

In the film’s main tale, Takafumi Katayama’s (Nao Ômori, The City of Love and Hope) days are dictated by duty – to watching his comatose wife languish in hospital, and to caring for their young son. Only his secret penchant for bondage offers a distraction, as he seeks out an exclusive club to fulfil his fantasies. Signing a year-long agreement, he submits to a parade of dominatrices interrupting his routine at random, enacting all manner of scenarios that cast him into a submissive position. A conversation about Beethoven’s Ode to Joy turns violent and eating at a sushi restaurant takes an unusual turn as no space proves safe from intrusion – and that’s just the beginning of his experience.

Providing balance to the increasingly chaotic events resulting from Takafumi’s unconventional contract is an intertwined aside. A group of censors watch his exploits as part of a feature also called R100, as directed by a bearded century-old man. Witnessing scene after scene of humiliation, their reactions dwell in the realm of the perplexed and puzzled. Their inclusion provides an in-narrative reminder that one man’s release is another’s revelry or ridiculousness, in addition to affording the broader feature’s audience with an on-screen surrogate likely aping their own responses.

Following on from his similarly comic-leaning Big Man Japan, Symbol and Scabbard Samurai, actor turned filmmaker Matsumoto throws everything he can into his take on the sex comedy genre. With co-writers Mitsuyoshi Takasu, Tomoji Hasegawa, Kôji Ema and Mitsuru Kuramoto, all veterans of his previous work, he satirically ponders the very concept of pushing the boundaries and passing judgement – both within seemingly normal situations, and in what is presented in cinema and media. That horror and hilarity combine is, of course, an intended consequence.

Despite a premise that demands further thought, there’s less of a statement in the episodic encounters than Matsumoto may wish for, with each new woman thrust in the way of the meek and mild protagonist simply fuelling the constant cycle of escalating mayhem. Instead, what keeps R100 moving is its sense of dread, shared within the film and outside of it, as everyone waits to see what the next segment entails. Its title refers to the Japanese classification system, and the idea that perhaps the feature shouldn’t be seen by anyone under the age of 100, after all.

Grounding the anarchy is Ômori, worlds away from his titular turn in Takashi Miike’s Ichi the Killer. As the film’s ideal everyman centre, that R100 is never completely devoured by its penchant for excess – purposefully unpersuasive special effects included – is a result of his convincing combination of poignancy and incredulity. The changes in his performance may feel as though they could have furnished two separate films, but remain consistent with the see-sawing nature of the movie as a whole. Trying to throw in a little bit of everything extreme, R100 may not perfect the catharsis or commentary it seeks, but it has plenty of outlandish, energetic and awkward fun in its attempts.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

R100

OzAsia Festival
www.adelaidefestivalcentre.com.au
3 – 21 September