Cold Fish Review

When I first loaded Cold Fish, directed and written by Shion Sono, I was immediately excited. The film had a prominent presence in those 'year best' horror lists, which I like to stalk for interesting new horror that I haven't heard of-- which is a rarity. Having not heard of the film, I had to conclude one of two things: either the film was not worth hearing about, or was just one of those that missed my radar.

I have to say, it's definitely more that it missed my radar.

Like I said, the opening has a series of intense cuts during monotonous events. It is a style that is at once sarcastic and visually interesting-- there are no real technical brilliance in the opening, but the way it is edited is a startling juxtaposition to the material you are watching, and I thoroughly enjoy this style.

We are introduced to a small family who is obviously not content. They eat in silence, as we watch, and there is somewhat of a voyeuristic perspective, but not necessarily in any sexual way-- we feel like a fly on the wall to what a lot of families probably look like when they eat.

The father (Syamoto, played by Mitsuru Fukikoshi ) sits, eating quietly as his wife,Taeko, a beautiful lady played by Megumi Kagurazaka , sits uncomfortable next to an obviously annoyed daughter Mitsuko (Hikari Kajiwara ). Nothing much happens as we watch, until Mitsuko gets a call from her boyfriend, who she runs out to see (even before finishing her meal). The family just watches this obvious disrespect with seeming indifference-- this is obviously not unexpected behaviour from the daughter.

Then the father promptly vomits all over the place. Not... really sure why, but I guess it's an exposure of his rather sickly demeanor-- indeed, the father-figure here is quite fragile throughout most of the film. That is, until we meet the antagonist... but we're getting to that.

The father gets a disturbing call as his wife sneaks a cigarette outside of the fish-shop where he both works and lives. This was shot with wonderful ambiguity-- I really felt a chill go down my spine wondering what happened, as it was obvious the daughter was more than capable of getting into all kinds of trouble. The filmmakers knew the ambiguity played in their favour; we are left to guessing what trouble Mitsuko has gotten into as we watch her father and stepmother slowly trying to react to it.

Indeed, that's pretty much the only hint we have is that the parents are not in a rush to get to her side.

The rest of the film plays out with such subtlety. Often, we are left to our own devices as an audience member to interpret events and predict what is about to happen, and rarely is it what we expect. For example, Mitsuko was caught stealing a bunch of junk from a random store, and the manager is threatening to press charges. Then we see Mr Murata, played by a guy named Denden . And then the proverbial shizznet hits the fan.

Murata owns a competing fish-shop, and quite oddly enough, offers to take Mitsuko to give her employment in some sort of weird dormitory of wayward girls he has set up there. Although somewhat perverse, Murata at first seems eccentric enough to be believable in his goal to give wayward girls discipline and a chance of a brighter future.

But, Murata is a serial killer. And, as one can predict, this ... puts a bit of a damper on things for Syamoto. Who is also promptly offered a business proposal from Murata-- this is, of course, before Syamoto learns his secret.

You've got red on you...

To say more about the plot risks 'spoilers' (that curse of the internet), so suffice to say things become hectic. The characters involved show obvious strain from their predicaments, and the character development of our protagonist was done well, with one noteworthy exception. Without spoiling too much, at one point Syamoto begins acting not... very much like himself. One could easily argue it is the stress brought on by his predicament, and this makes sense to a certain degree but... well... you be the judge (you'll know the moment I speak of when you see it).

The film, as mentioned before, is heavily stylized. For example, we only see a title for the film about 20 minutes in, long after we've forgotten we didn't see it in the first place. Sometimes this style is a bit ambiguous-- all of the events have a bit of a timer on them, and I have not really examined whether or not the numbers brought up have any significance to the plot. But they are heavily prevalent, along with a thick, plodding sound effect that seems to warn you to start counting. Although... it is never really exposed why the audience is counting.

Oh crap we forgot the title sequence... here. BAM. Done.

Normally, this sort of loose end frustrates me, but in this film, the pacing was so carefully thought out that I forgave this as something I was perhaps not understanding correctly. “Oh, the film is just deeper than you obviously realize” is not an argument I like for things not understood-- film is communication after all-- but in this case, I honestly feel like the filmmakers did have purpose in these numbers, I just don't seem to understand it.

There are a few moments in the film like this, where, be it a cultural disparity, a translation error in my copy, or just my lack of understanding, that seem to just ... be vague for the sake of being vague. These moments are not clumsy, however, but are placed in moments where the ambiguity makes the audience think, and analyze what they are seeing. Perhaps there is even no answer to the questions the film brings up-- which certainly goes with the director's intentions of hopelessness-- but these moments are in the minority enough to not spoil the overall vibe of the film.

The film does offer a lot of gore and nudity-- in fact, the film seems to be more adamant to get interesting angles on gore than truly creative cinematography for the moments of sleaze and viscera make sense in the world we have found ourselves in.

It also doesn't hurt that some of the women are absolutely gorgeous and the gore done with gritty, vulgar realism. It is obvious the filmmakers delight in their transgressions, and this plays with awkward if not downright funny moments-- funny not in the traditional sense, but in the nervous, “I can't believe they went there” sort of way that makes the R-rated aspects more of a cartoon than sophistication.

Cold Fish is not as intelligent as some of its fans make out-- and indeed, it is hard to compare this film with something of, say, I Saw the Devil or Oldboy's calibre, but what it lacks in intelligence in terms of the plot, it more than makes up for with reserve in its pacing. Considering the aspects I've outlined above (gore, nudity etc.) the concept of “reserve” in this might seem surprising, but the pace really surprised me. I couldn't even define the moment where monotonous normalcy springboards into awkward insanity, but it happens before your eyes, and for the most part, with realism and the suspension of disbelief safe for the trip.

Thank you very much for taking my daughter so
we can finally... well... thank you!!

While the film is not strong enough to recommend to all but horror fans-- unlike I Saw the Devil which I felt was strong enough to recommend simply to anyone that likes good cinema-- this film does offer enough interesting ruminations on hopelessness, powerlessness, and the difference between monotony and danger, to be a worthy recommendation to horror fans.

So, with that in mind, I give the film an 85%-- but with the stipulation that one does need to be a horror fan, or at least a fan of transgressive cinema, to truly enjoy this flick.