On the surface, Shohei Imamura's serial-killer drama Vengeance is Mine is deceptively cold. Imamura subtitled his earlier film, The Pornographers, "An Introduction to Anthropology." In 1979's Vengeance, his pose of scientific detachment coexists with an undercurrent of seething rage. Imamura doesn't show his anti-hero, Iwao Enokizu (Ken Ogata), as a mere product of unfortunate circumstances, but neither does he portray him as a monster whose evil exists outside humanity.
Vengeance is Mine begins with Iwao's arrest in 1964. From there, it adopts a complex structure to relate the story of his life. Busted several times for theft and fraud, Iwao adopted a Clark Kent facade; dressing in a suit and horn-rimmed glasses, he posed as a lawyer or professor, though his real background was blue-collar. After killing two men, he went on a seventy-eight-day murder spree before getting caught.
Imamura's distance is evident in his choice of camera set-ups and avoidance of prurient violence. There are few close-ups in Vengeance is Mine. Although he preferred Cinemascope in his '60s films, he shot Vengeance is Mine in the narrower aspect ratio of 1.66. But the effect is much the
same: a frame crammed with information and movement.
For much of Vengeance is Mine, Iwao remains an enigma, but as the film hurtles towards a conclusion, it focuses on two traumas involving his father. Though Vengeance is Mine doesn't explicitly blame these events for Iwao's murderous behavior, it comes dangerously close to a facile psychological explanation. But it never allows the audience to get an easy read on Iwao. As critic Dave Kehr suggests, his behavior is merely the bluntest expression of a social Darwinism underpinning the whole of Japanese culture. — Steve Erickson
DVD Extras: Aside from a trailer, the only bonus is a 10-minute video interview with Imamura. Produced in 1999 by the Directors Guild of Japan, the thoughtful discussion focuses on the difficulties of adapting a novel — which, in turn, was based on a real case — and the director's approach to performance. Imamura reveals that his cast, particularly Ogata, restored his faith in the worth of actors, hinting that his lengthy hiatus from narrative filmmaking in the '70s was partially rooted in contempt for them.