Left Field Cinema

WARNING: This episode contains spoilers.

Ridley Scott is an often over rated film maker, within his body of work to date he has made two films which I would consider masterpieces - Alien and Blade Runner. Along the way he’s made some other reasonable films like Kingdom of Heaven in 2005 which suffered from the massive casting mistake of Orlando Bloom in the leading role; his conman comedy Matchstick Men from 2003 had a lot going for it but suffers from being immensely predictable; his 2001 war movie Black Hawk Down which despite being at least an hour too long did show huge potential; and of course his Spartacus rip-off Gladiator from 2000 which certainly had its moments but overall felt entirely derivative. Only his 1991 classic Thelma and Louise came close to matching his previous successes although this film seems increasingly dated by the day and has a laughably absurd climax. Outside of these odd exceptions Scott has made some appalling films such as Hannibal from 2001, 1492: Conquest of Paradise from 1992, Someone to Watch Over Me from 1987, and of course G.I Jane from 1997.

But somewhere in this mix comes his 1989 cop thriller Black Rain, a generally overlooked Ridley Scott film which fails to get the same level of attention as his worst or his greatest films – and there is good reason for this. The film boasts some of the most impressive photography in any of Scott’s films and a sense of atmosphere that even Blade Runner couldn’t match, the duel settings of Tokyo and New York are beautifully shot and Tokyo in particular appears a nightmarish concrete jungle of neon lights and giant electronic billboards. The film also marks the first collaboration between Scott and composer Hans Zimmer (even if this ranks as one of Zimmer’s most dated scores) it features one of Zimmer’s most iconic pieces of music which would be reused in trailers for a decade to come; oddly the track in question is used so quietly in the films final audio mix that it’s hardly recognisable. But despite its technical achievements the plot of this film is about as formulaic as they come; the 1980’s saw the buddy-cop movie become increasingly popular. The plot line for these films follow a decidedly similar pattern from one incarnation to the next, a rogue cop who likes to live life on the edge (in this case NYPD Detective Nick Conklin played by Michael Douglas) and his more by-the-book career driven partner (in this case Detective Charlie Vincent played by Andy Garcia) catch an unusual case with a vicious foreign criminal at its heart (here a Japanese gangster Sato played by Yusaku Matsuda). In order to solve the case (which in Black Rain is recovering Sato after he escapes their custody when they take him back to Japan) several developments must occur; firstly the straight laced partner must die (Vincent has his head cut off by Sato in the middle of the film) and the lead detective must learn to change his ways (in Black Rain, Conklin is belligerent and disrespectful of Japanese culture, he must learn to embrace Japanese ways and learn to work with mild mannered Detective Masahiro Matsumoto played by Ken Takakura so that he can find Sato).

With a story-line like this we were never expecting anything extraordinary, but for all its conformity, Black Rain succeeds in the areas where it does not conform to the formula which it otherwise remains so rigorously faithful to. There are smaller exceptions of course, for instance in the course of their investigation the detectives never visit a strip club (in most films of this kind the case can not be solved until the detectives have visited at least one). Instead of hitting some down and dirty bar and necking back shots of vodka, Conklin, Vincent and Matsumoto go to a karaoke night which immediately endears us to Vincent and Matsumoto in particular more than any of the usual cops-get-drunk shenanigans we’re used to witnessing. There is a love interest, that of American Ex-pat and night club manager Joyce (played by Kate Capshaw) but Joyce is never placed in danger or even remotely close to it, her presence means automatically we assume that she will be kidnapped at some point by Sato and used as a bargaining chip, but not in Black Rain. Even better than this is screenwriters Craig Bolotin and Warren Lewis’ restraint, despite there being potential romance for Joyce and Conklin during the story it is never acted upon, they don’t even share a kiss good bye in the somewhat cheesy epilogue. The down side of the Joyce character is that she’s almost entirely pointless, besides feeding Conklin the odd piece of information which is tantamount to public knowledge, she offers no relevance to plot, theme or narrative and it could be cynically argued that in a film so dominated by males, she was only included to provide the bare minimum of a western female presence. Despite this she certainly does not fall into the usual damsel-in-distress stereotypes nor does she find Conklin so irresistible that she must go to bed with him, nor does Conklin (in a foreign land avenging his partners death and trying to avoid being deported by the authorities) find time to bed her. But perhaps the most extraordinary restraint is offered up in the films climax, as Conklin finally tracks down Sato, a motorcycle chase ends abruptly as both bikes crash and Conklin and Sato end up fighting in a pool of mud, several means of dispatching Sato are offered to Conklin, we as the audience instantly assume and actually hope that Conklin will push his face into one of the motorcycle wheels which is now facing up right and still motoring – this does not happen. Instead the fight continues and Conklin eventually ends up with the upper hand, he has Sato in a venerable position ready to impale him on a large sharp sick of wood left over from a broken fence, once again we hope and pray that Conklin will murder Sato and avenge Vincent’s death, but instead we are treated to the most unexpected move a film of this nature could possible make. We abruptly cut out of the fight scene back to the police headquarters, a door bursts open, Masamoto and Conklin enter with Sato in tow, very much alive and now under arrest. The audience is denied vengeance, we’re denied the chance to see this brutal gangsters life snatched away from him by our righteous NYPD detective. But how did a film such as this arrive at such an unexpectedly reasonable and humane conclusion?

Black Rain takes a long and hard road to reach this point in the story. At one-hundred and twenty-five minutes the film is peculiarly lengthy given its genre, (tellingly Scott’s first edit of the film was forty-minutes longer and would doubtlessly have been a bloated affair if that cut had been released) but the added runtime in the theatrical edition allows us to really get to know Nick Conklin and all of his xenophobic flaws. The opening scene of the film sees Conklin engage in an illegal and potentially deadly motorcycle race for a relatively small sum of money, he wins the race by virtue of a reckless manoeuvre which results in the other motorcyclist falling off his bike. This sort of blatant and contrived character establishment does the film no favours, and over the course of the films first act we learn that Conklin has a problem with authority and a massive chip on his shoulders about an IID investigation probing him and several other officers in his unit about some missing drug money, Conklin is frequently outraged and annoyed by the accusations and anyone he thinks of derogatorily as a “suit” may as well be dead to him. But slowly Conklin’s flaws are exposed, he will more than willingly assault a man in handcuffs for looking at him the wrong way, and his ex-wife won’t even step out of the house to see him when he picks up one of his kids for school in the morning. Vincent is incredibly loyal to Conklin, but that loyalty has limits and even Vincent becomes tired of Conklin’s continually aggressive behaviour and doesn’t always buy into Conklin’s bullshit about how the guys being investigated by IID are “good cops”. Upon arriving in Japan Conklin is continually irritable, they lose Sato at the airport because a group of impostors pose as the police delegates coming to pick Sato up and fool Conklin and Vincent by pretending that an insurance document is the official paperwork. Conklin and Vincent are only too happy to be rid of Sato but once they realise that they’ve been fooled Conklin refuses to be humbled by the experience and blames the local police force for the mistake rather than their negligence. At every point Conklin acts like the stereotypical American abroad, getting angered by the police demanding that they hand in their guns because they are civilians in Japan not police officers, becoming frustrated at the locals who don’t speak English and referring to the Japanese people as “nips”. His racism, ignorance, aggressiveness and petulance makes it difficult to like Conklin for most of the first half, but the greatest success of this film is in its development of Conklin. After Vincent is murdered Masamoto decides to give Conklin an olive branch, by using Japanese culture to help Conklin. Conklin can take one item of Vincent’s processions according to Japanese traditions, Masamoto presents him a box and within it are several items of Vincent’s including his service revolver. Conklin asks “I can take anything I want?” Masamoto replies “Yes, anything”. From here Conklin and Masamoto learn to accept each others differences and proceed towards finding Sato, but this is not as simple as it sounds. In the films best scene Masamoto confronts Conklin as they share dinner together at a street level diner, Masamoto enquires about the accusations of theft that have been levelled against Conklin “Theft is theft, there is no grey area” he states, Conklin replies: “Hey, New York is one great big grey area”. Conklin then goes on to admit that he did take the money, he is a hypocrite, after all his protestations of injustice he is nothing more than a simple thief, a man who gave in to temptation. After all of his judging and stereotyping he is still willing to fall behind the “grey area” defence, his hypocrisy know no bounds. Conklin is humiliated and Masamoto points out that he dishonours Vincent and he dishonours himself. This scene changes the entire dynamic of Conklin’s mission, it is not just vengeance he seeks, but a chance to redeem himself for the wrong he has done. Masamoto has exposed Conklin to the fact that he is without honour, Conklin realises that honour is the only true value in this world over everything else. This all culminates in Conklin sparing Sato’s life; it is the natural conclusion to the events of the film. He spares Sato for two reasons, firstly because he must finish what he came to Japan to do (deliver Sato to the authorities) and secondly because he has come to realise something of Japanese culture – death in battle is honourable and even desirable, but the dishonour of being captured and imprisoned will last for the rest of Sato’s miserable life. The subtext of this moment is arguably more profound than a film like this deserves, and it remains one of the only reasons that I’m willing to forgive the films numerous flaws. That, and Michael Douglas’ truly terrible mullet.

M.Dawson