Good schlock takes talent and a certain kind of glee at being naughty, much like that of a kid
eating too much candy. When an admirer of schlock cinema like Robert Rodriguez or Quentin
Tarantino pays homage to their grindhouse gods, you can feel the admiration, but the result
doesn't have the same impact, because there's an inescapable self-consciousness about the whole
enterprise. They're too academic and "look at me!" about recreating the junk food they enjoyed
when they were younger. You're always aware that they're indulging in nostalgia and that,
tomorrow, they could just as easily decide to pay homage to Sergio Leone or John Ford.
No such ironic distance is on display in Noboru Iguchi's The Machine Girl. Iguchi forges
joyously onward with wilder and more extravagant set pieces and not the slightest concern for
either realism or basic rules of physics, biology or even edible cuisine. The only challenge is
finding more, different and increasingly elaborate ways to rip, shred, chop, tear, grind and
mortify (in all senses of the word) the human body in a manner that one would otherwise expect
in a video game. As both writer and director, Iguchi cheerfully dispenses with all but the barest
essentials of plot mechanics or character motivation. His ruthless concision suggests the
efficiency so admired by the acclaimed American screenwriter William Goldman, who once
famously summed up a character's motivation in a few short phrases that would be equally apt if
spoken by the heroine of Machine Girl:
Hello. My name is Ami Hyuga. You killed my brother. Prepare to
die.
In the pre-credit sequence a gang of high school bullies are tormenting a fellow student. A one-armed girl,
Ami Hyuga (Minase Yashiro), appears out of nowhere and methodically reduces them to
a quivering pile of body parts, using assorted weapons including a specially constructed machine
gun that fits over the stump where her left arm used to be. But before she does so, Ami
announces that she's seeking revenge for her brother, Yu.
After the credits, the film rewinds so that we see Ami in better times with two good arms. She
plays basketball with her friend, Yoshie (Noriko Kijima), and tries to maintain a normal home
life with Yu (Ryōsuke Kawamura). Ami and Yu are orphans, because their parents committed
suicide after being falsely accused of murder. And no, that backstory isn't further explained,
because no one interested in watching this movie cares about such details.
The gang bullying Yu and his friend, Takeshi Sugihara (Shuhei), is led by Sho Kimura (Nobuhiro
Nishihara), an arrogant little jerk whose father, Ryūji, is a yakuza gang boss. Papa Kimura's idea
of father/son bonding is to feed young Sho a cup of his own blood. Sho's mother, Violet
(Honoka), is even more demented. When she's dissatisfied with a maid, Violet disciplines the
servant by killing her -- which begs the question of how she ever persuades anyone new to take
the position in an age when involuntary servitude has been abolished, at least in theory. In the
Kimura household, apparently, the feudal era never ended.
After Sho and his gang throw Yu and Takeshi off a building, Ami's path to revenge leads
through a gang member named Ryota. (The actor's credits are unavailable, as I don't read
Japanese.) Unfortunately, Ryota disclaims any knowledge, and his parents become violent in
defending him, which requires an equally violent response from Ami. In the struggle, her left arm
receives the first of many injuries, when it is quick-fried in tempura batter. This memorable
image is just one of many indications of how little director Iguchi cares about realism, as the
extent of the crispy tempura coating on Ami's arm clearly bears no relation to the batter that has
been applied just a minute earlier.
Having gathered the necessary information from Ryoto (and then killed him), Ami attacks the
Kimura household, but she is badly overmatched. She's captured, tortured and loses her arm
before managing one of those lucky escapes on which revenge films frequently depend. Ami
barely makes it to the garage run by Takeshi's parents, Miki and Suguru Sugihara (Asami and
Yūya Ishikawa). Still grieving for the son they lost in the same attack that killed Ami's brother,
the Sugiharas agree to help Ami take revenge. Suguru constructs her machine gun arm extension,
and Miki, a former biker chick, toughens her fighting skills. Together they prepare for a final
battle, and their resolve is only strengthened when the Kimuras send an assault team of red-suited
ninjas to attack them at the garage.
From a narrative point of view, Machine Girl is a model of efficiency. Iguchi wastes barely a
word or a frame in navigating from one set piece to the next, whether it's a fight, a scene of
sexual sadism, or a gross-out sequence (the death of Ryota's mother, who essentially vomits out
her brains after finding her son's head floating in her soup, is particularly noteworthy, if not
especially admirable). If "grindhouse" cinema was the seedy, disreputable titillation for an era
when many things were still forbidden, Machine Girl is the clever, inventive eww! for a
time when almost nothing is forbidden, because the internet and home video have effectively
neutralized the ratings authorities. All that counts is finding new ways to one-up oneself, and
Iguchi clearly relishes the challenge.
A month ago, I reviewed a Blu-ray title, Bobby G. Can't Swim, that, at the time, was the worst
quality Blu-ray I'd ever seen. It now has a rival for that dubious distinction. Even though the
AVC-encoded image on the disc has a technical specification of 1080p, no one would ever
mistake it for a high-definition image. Detail is fuzzy to non-existent, outlines of shapes are
shifting and undefined, black levels are atrocious, and colors are so washed out that you might be
pardoned for thinking that something has gone wrong with your display. Aliasing, combing and
motion artifacts are frequent. Copious amounts of video noise are present in every frame, so
much so that it's a frequent distraction and often obscures the image. (Some viewers may
mistakenly term this "graininess", but it's not. There is no grain structure to these sizzle patterns.
They're just noise, which probably results from upconverting a 480i image to 1080p for Blu-ray.)
I have read statements on the Blu-ray.com forum to the effect that this disc looks little better than
DVD, but I disagree. This image look worse than a well-mastered DVD. Even with consumer-grade
digital video, a better image could be produced at NTSC resolution.
The story with audio is somewhat happier. The DTS 5.1 lossless track makes good use of the
surrounds for the appropriate purposes in an action film. Voices from characters speaking off-camera are
placed in the surrounds, flying objects such as whirring blades ping appropriately
around the room, and Ami's machine gun roars with the right degree of thunder. There is a score,
which is credited to prolific horror composer Takashi Nakagawa, but it is purely functional and
not likely to linger in the memory. Since I listened to the original Japanese language track, I can't
comment on whether the dialogue was clearly rendered. The English subtitles are yellow and
always legible.
As has previously been reported by some users, there is a mastering error that sometimes causes
the menu cursor to disappear, especially after playing one or more special features. When that
happens, no menu entry can be highlighted or selected, and the only solution is to stop the disc
and reload it. (It may take several tries.)
Making of Machine Girl (SD; 1.66:1, non-enhanced; 10:03): This featurette
plays like a standard EPK, with on-set footage and brief interviews with actresses Minase Yashiro (who was
making her film debut) and Asami, as well as actor Nobuhiro Nishihara. It's entertaining to hear
and see the actors out of character and the director at work, but otherwise the feature provides
little insight into the film.
Machine Girl Lite (SD; 1.78:1, enhanced; 22:21): This short film by Iguichi is
a kind of "alternate take" on The Machine Girl, in which Ami's friend Yoshie (once again played by
Noriko Kijima) straps on a machine gun to take on the role of avenging angel. In Japanese with
optional English subtitles.
Original Trailer (SD; 1.78:1, enhanced; 1:35): This was clearly designed for the
English-speaking market, as all the overlaid text is in English and there is no voiceover.
Additional Trailers (SD; 1.78:1, enhanced; 3:54): Trailers are included for Ichi the
Killer (with voiceover in English) and Versus (no voiceover required).
Because Blu-ray.com has rules limiting what we can and can't show in screenshots, I have not
posted images illustrating the full extent of Iguchi's style in The Machine Girl, but trust me when
I say that it's extremely gory and not for a moment the least bit credible. If that kind of
cartoonish violence appeals to you, then this is your kind of movie. Unfortunately, the Blu-ray is
of such atrocious quality that it is most definitely not recommended.
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