JAPAN ORGANIZED CRIME BOSS (1969)

Director Kinji Fukasaku is finally attracting the international interest he richly deserves as one of Japan’s most important auteurs. Until a recent rash of Blu-ray releases—like this 4K restoration from Radiance, overseen by Toei Studios—he’d been generally known only as the director of Battle Royale (2000), the movie that heralded the Asia Extreme genre. But that was his final feature in a long and hugely influential filmography that includes zany science fiction like Message from Space (1978), the gorgeous period piece The Fall of Akō Castle (1978), and some classic chanbara fantasy such as Samurai Reincarnation (1981).

Among his 70 or so film credits, one genre dominates: the jitsuroku eiga or “actual record films” based on real events from the gangland world of the yakuza. Fukasaku’s notorious Battles Without Honour and Humanity pentalogy (1973–74) and its three standalone follow-ups, New Battles Without Honour and Humanity (1974–76), came to define the genre with their gritty, brutal, almost verité style. Fukasaku’s ruthless yakuza antiheroes in their dark suits and shades swept aside the more chivalrous kimono-clad gangsters and gamblers of the previously popular ninkyo eiga.

Japan Organized Crime Boss / 日本暴力団 組長 is therefore a pivotal point in Fukasaku’s career, not only as a precursor to his later successes in the genre but also as it marks the first time he worked with the set of Toei-contracted actors that would become repeat collaborators.

Having reviewed Kinji Fukasaku’s yakuza thriller Sympathy for the Underdog (1971), released by Radiance earlier this year, the similarities are undeniable. It’s clearly a superior remake of Japan Organized Crime Boss. Both films were written with Fumio Kônami, a regular writing partner since working on Fukasaku’s feature debut Wandering Detective: Tragedy in Red Valley (1961), who would also go on to script New Battles Without Honour and Humanity, among others.

Much can be learned by comparing the two subtly different treatments of the same story made by the same director, scripted by the same writers, and starring the same ensemble cast. Viewing the films back-to-back would be an education for any cineaste and certainly rewarding for fans of Fukasaku or any of the movie’s leading men, who can be thought of as Japan’s answer to the ‘Rat Pack’.

Kôji Tsuruta takes the lead in both films but plays the role quite differently in each. In Sympathy for the Underdog, he’s near-expressionless, stoic, coolly emotionless, with dark glasses hiding his eyes most of the time. We get the impression that he’s dead inside, motivated by a desire for big-time revenge stemming from past events that landed him in prison a decade earlier. Japan Organized Crime Boss also begins with a yakuza boss, Tetsuo Tsukamoto (Tsuruta), being released after a long stint in prison to find that times have changed. The old yakuza territories are being eroded by encroaching street gangs and hoodlums, and control of the old clans is now influenced by corrupt corporate and political organisations who only see the potential for profit in the post-war administrative and economic boom created by rampant redevelopment.

This historical backdrop is efficiently established by a montage of clips, maps, and stills as a narrator introduces the major players and explains that the old territories are being lost and won in chaotic turf wars. The local clans are being used to eradicate each other in proxy wars while the bigger organisations pull the strings but avoid direct involvement. As with most of his movies, Fukasaku is telling a story that also operates as a political metaphor. Perhaps a veiled commentary on international intervention in Southeast Asia, ravaged by proxy wars in which the USA and the USSR vied for control of countries where it was mainly the local populations who fought and died.

Tsukamoto returns to his old clan but realises that he’s a man out of step with the times, as now, profit trumps honour and fraternal bonds between clans have become meaningless. Shortly after his return, their clan boss is assassinated by rivals. Tsukamoto takes control but, realising that the murder was intended to provoke reprisal and instigate a clan war, decides to bide his time rather than rush into revenge. In contrast to his later rendering of what could have been an identical role, he allows us to see the emotions behind the mask. He almost smiles a few times and seems to have a genuinely caring relationship with a woman (Yuriko Hoshi). However, at times, there’s despair in his eyes, which brim with tears as he weathers humiliation or deals with the loss of his old friends—until he dons dark glasses for the climax.

However, one of his loyal men, Kazama (Bunta Sugawara), takes things into his own hands as a free agent to avoid involving his boss, which would have escalated the situation. This was the first time that Fukasaku worked with Sugawara, who would play the lead in the Battles Without Honour and Humanity movie series and become emblematic of the new-style yakuza genre.

Kōji Tsuruta had already worked with Fukasaku several times and was an established star, mainly associated with playing heroic samurai and honourable yakuza. He brought with him a touch of authenticity as he was known to have had real-life connections. One event made the headlines when he was brutally beaten by enforcers who hoped to provoke him into a retaliation, presumably so they could then kill him with what they saw as justification. Apparently, he took the beating like a true old-school yakuza and earned respect accordingly. These biographical events were written into the script and play out in an intense scene when he visits Miyahara (Tomisaburō Wakayama), boss of the rival Hokuryu Kai clan, to request the return of one of his captured men.

Tomisaburō Wakayama was another superstar at the time. I know him best as Torakichi, a recurring character in the Red Peony Gambler films (1968–1972), and for taking the lead as Ogami Ittō in Kenji Misumi’s Lone Wolf and Cub films (1972–74). Here, he’s playing an analogous role to his character in Sympathy for the Underdog—a dangerous, loose cannon who still clings to the old ways despite mounting frustration and rage at how things are changing. This time he’s even more deranged and seems to be snorting or syringing a different drug in each of his scenes. The character’s trajectory is the same in both movies and a few of the scenes are near identical, except he has access to better munitions in Sympathy for the Underdog where he was notably missing one arm.

In Japan Organized Crime Boss, Ooba (Noboru Andô) is the one-armed character, but apart from borrowing this distinguishing trait, his arc also follows the same path of vengeance as he does in Sympathy for the Underdog. His mission is to assassinate the unscrupulous Dano Clan boss (Asao Uchida) who is intent on controlling all western Japan. His coolness is counterpointed by his loving wife, Katsuko (Sanae Nakahara) with whom he plans to make a getaway and start a new crime-free life after this one last honourable action. We can’t shake the uneasy feeling that things won’t work out too well for this fated couple.

Noboru Andô adds further authenticity as another actor who most definitely had connections. His screen debut was the biopic Blood and the Law (1965), based on his own memoirs, written in prison, recounting his life as boss of the yakuza gang controlling Tokyo’s Shibuya district. After serving his time, he turned his back on crime and found success as a singer, writer, producer, and actor. That at least some real ex-yakuza did manage to go straight and find success provides some sort of salve for the inevitably tragic outcomes of most of Fukasaku’s yakuza movies. Which I’m sure are more representative of the reality for the majority of those with less luck.

Cinematographer Hanjirō Nakazawa, who would also work on Sympathy for the Underdog, handles interior light beautifully, often using visible light sources such as lampshades as fillers and structural elements to balance compositions reminiscent of Otto Heller’s work on Peeping Tom (1960) and The Ipcress File (1965). The velvety, almost painterly interiors are starkly contrasted with the flat, shadowless lighting of exterior day scenes that take place in areas of bomb-cleared dereliction or construction sites. The post-war rebuilding of Japan is constantly referenced by the presence of cement mixers in the background and the big freight ships moored at the expanding docklands. The night scenes are also inventively shot with sparkling torrential rain cleverly adding depth and texture.

So, in addition to excellent performances all round, Japan Organized Crime Boss is a visual treat and a rewarding watch. A minor classic in its own right, it has never been distributed outside Japan, so this newly restored, fully uncut print marks its UK and US debut. The excellent 4K restoration means that it has never looked or sounded better. However, it has since been overshadowed by Sympathy for the Underdog, which, for me, is by far the better of the two versions. If you’re an aficionado of jitsuroku eiga, then you must see both and make up your own mind.

JAPAN | 1969 | 97 MINUTES | 2.35:1 | COLOUR | JAPANESE

Limited Edition Blu-ray Special Features:

• New 4K restoration by Toei Company.
• Uncompressed mono PCM audio.
• ‘Battling Adversity’—a 34-minute archival presentation by Kinji Fukasaku. This is a recording of a lecture given by the director to an audience of businessmen in 1999. It was taken from a poor-quality videotape recording, but the image clarity does not really matter. He talks about growing up in Mito, Ibaraki Prefecture, and his entry into the movie industry in the late-1950s when, he explains, cinema was booming. He then describes how he eventually began making films himself in the early-1960s, when it entered a dramatic decline. He covers his career with plenty of anecdotes and witty asides, coming across as far more cheerful than one might expect from the often harsh and harrowing nature of his films. He explains that no matter how serious his films may be, he always ensured that they were entertaining and that he believes chaos and violence are indeed exhilarating and therefore provide entertainment. He argues that the relationships between people who kill and those who are killed are similar to many social dynamics but dramatically taken to the extreme.
• 15-minute Interview with yakuza film historian Akihiko Ito (2024).In which he places Fukasaku’s films within the socio-political context of their production, against the historical backdrop of international influences and the overlap of corporate corruption with the state. He then discusses the importance of the actors associated with the yakuza film genre. He also comments on the lack of actresses in Fukasaku’s crime thrillers, which he explains in terms of homosocial relationships that reflected many work situations at the time—the factory floor or construction sites were almost exclusively a male domain where the men were subject to the whims of their bosses. And similar to the yakuza set-up, having a good boss made all the difference!
• 24-minute visual essay on Koji Tsuruta’s collaborations with Fukasaku by yakuza cinema expert Nathan Stuart (2024). A detailed biography of the actor, tracking his impoverished childhood spent caring for an ailing grandmother while his father gambled and his mother worked in a brothel. It follows his career, interrupted by war, during which he was an engineer responsible for preparing the planes of kamikaze pilots. The biography discusses his involvement with the yakuza in the post-war years before his rise to stardom in a successful career paralleling that of director Kinji Fukasaku. Excellent material that serves as a substitute for an audio commentary.
• Trailer.
• Newly improved English subtitle translation.
• Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Time Tomorrow.
• Limited Edition booklet featuring new writing by Stuart Galbraith IV and an archival review of the film. Not available at time of review.
• Limited Edition of 3000 copies, presented in full-height Scanavo packaging with removable OBI strip leaving packaging free of certificates and markings.

Cast & Crew

director: Kinji Fukasaku.
writers: Kinji Fukasaku, Fumio Kônami & Norio Osada.
starring: Kōji Tsuruta, Tomisaburō Wakayama, Noboru Andō, Bunta Sugawara, Michitarō Mizushima, Ryōhei Uchida, Sanae Nakahara, Seizaburō Kawazu & Asao Uchida.