I'll be perfectly honest, from the beginning I had a hard time getting on board with this to any degree. In every capacity it is curt, direct, and forthright as soon as it begins. As the length draws on it increasingly swerves into a space so outrageous that the most immoderate self-indulgence of Eon Productions' James Bond franchise almost seems tame, and the hodgepodge that was 1967's 'Casino Royale' quite comes to mind. This is an approach that I can most definitely appreciate, and I absolutely have elsewhere; the trouble in this case is that I'm not certain of what the intent actually is in 'Black Lizard.' Initially, and at irregular intervals to come, the picture seems perfectly sincere, and just sorrily sloppy or inconsistent in how it is rendered. A little later, and elsewhere, the doing becomes so over the top that it could only be considered either an unblinking parody, or an excitably overcooked curiosity. Later still the feature becomes so outlandish that it leaps past James Bond to evoke genre romps like Toho's 'King Kong Escapes,' Adam West's 'Batman,' or the most theatrical and colorful of Vincent Price's horror flicks. What is going on here?! I can truthfully say that I like this, but I really don't know what to make of it.
The dialogue pretends at grandiosity, poetry, and profundity, but it kind of just comes off as word salad. The narrative pretends at a game of cat and mouse between Detective Akechi and the titular figure, but there's no requisite subtlety in the first place, and even if there were, it constantly has the rug pulled out from underneath it - or maybe a better frame of reference would be imagining panel after panel of Lucy withdrawing the football from under Charlie Brown. By the time we're only about thirty minutes in we're greeted with a scene that reminds me of the 'Star Trek: The next generation' episode "Elementary, dear Data," and this comparison will be appropriate again later. To wit: Data, having committed all of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories to memory, frustrates Geordi when a holodeck game based on such a story has scarcely begun and Data, knowing every detail, reveals the entirety of the mystery from the outset. Just as Data ruined the fun for Geordi, is it the case that Akechi ruins an earnest film for we viewers by demonstrating exact knowledge of the crime being committed? Or is this a bit that is part of the sly frivolity? The conventional surroundings of nightclubs, high-rises, and large homes gives way to elaborate set pieces and lavishly decorated hide-outs; restrained acting gives way to unfettered overacting; even the editing and cinematography change their tune over time. Is all this deliberate, or is it deficient?
I don't know Edogawa Rampo's novel, nor Mishima Yukio's play, and I don't believe I've encountered screenwriter Narusawa Masashige heretofore. I do know filmmaker Fukasaku Kinji, however, and there's no genre that he didn't dabble with at some point throughout his long, rather prolific career. Not all his works are equal, but of those I've seen to date, I've enjoyed all in some measure, and deeply loved others. I'm inclined to think the tack taken in 'Black Lizard' was purposeful, a twisted variation on conventional storytelling territory. One question that remains is whether this is a thread pulled through the novel and play and into the screenplay; another question that remains, despite my generosity, is just what Fukasaku was looking to do, and I'm still unsure. This is a movie that's all over the place, and it has either succeeded in its cheekiness or failed in its genuineness. Operating on the assumption that the result is precisely what it wanted to be - it's a wildcard, but I can't say I wasn't entertained! And even as I'm left somewhat mystified, more than not it really is well done.
Any stunts and effects that are employed here look fantastic and are duly exciting. The more straightforward visuals are aptly crafted; the most lovingly shaped costume design, hair, and makeup, and the most fanciful conceptions of set design (think Hammer or American International Productions horror, or fantasy from The Shaw Brothers or Jim Henson) are a gratifying sight for sore eyes. Some actors are given more to do than others - Akechi is rather plain and unemotional, so star Kimura Isao is just sort of there - but in fits and starts some have more opportunities than others to demonstrate their skills (luckily for Matsuoka Kikko, supporting character Sanae goes from "just a pretty face" to meaningfully expressing herself), and if nothing else, Maruyama Akihiro is to be commended for his wholehearted, committed performance as Black Lizard, giving the criminal mastermind a sense of personality and complexity beyond what is already more or less represented in the writing. Everyone behind the scenes did a great job, for that matter, even Fukasaku, cinematographer Dowaki Hiroshi, and editor Uraoka Keiichi at their most free-wheeling. Yes, I'm divided on the writing, but for good or for ill, Narusawa leaned into it; in the worst case scenario I admire the gumption, and in the best case scenario, the man pulled off a tricky maneuver in continuously riding a line between different tones.
It's an odd one, and I can't blame anyone who engages with this title and steps away flummoxed and turned off. Conversely, for those who are even more on the same wavelength and totally adore it, you have my congratulations. I'm stymied, and I was extremely skeptical up to a particular point (that is, roughly the 33-minute mark), but as 'Black Lizard' goes off the rails more and more, it does the unexpected and arcs back into my favor. This is a piece for those who are open to all the wide, weird possibilities of cinema, who are ready to take whatever comes their way and get what they can out of it. Be aware of what you're getting into (or not, I'm not the boss of you), but if you're receptive to the peculiar and have the chance to watch, this is enjoyable in its own way and worth checking out.
