Shinjuku Station in the evening rush hour. High school girls throng the packed platform, dominating with their raucous chatter, jangling bags and provocatively short skirts. As the commuter rapid approaches, something bizarre happens - 54 girls join hands and step reverentially on the platform edge. Given the title of the film, it is no big stretch to guess what happens next.
A veteran detective (Ryo Ishibashi) and jaded younger colleague (Masatoshi Nagase) suspect a grand plot, but are thwarted in their attempts to investigate by weary seniors. Clues are supplied by The Bat, a more web-savvy mysterious informant. Can the detectives uncover the conspiracy and prevent more suicides? That is as much narrative analysis as the story can bear, as it veers off course in the second half into surrealism, MTV theatricals, and heavy-handed symbolism. "There is no suicide club" declares a juvenile voice on the phone, continually clearing its throat. Whether there is or isn't is a question never fully resolved.
Don't be taken in by reviewers who tell you that you have to be Japanese to understand this film - my Japanese students and friends are as baffled by the story as anyone else. Sion's film never quite lives up to that opening sequence in Shinjuku Station, but it compels you to go with it to the end, and provides a few thrills along the way. It is a shame it does not all quite pull together. But there are enough digs at Japan's shallow celebrity culture, crippling generation gap, obsessive consumerism, and indeed freakishly high suicide rate to make this worth watching.
In short, great visuals, shame about the script.
A veteran detective (Ryo Ishibashi) and jaded younger colleague (Masatoshi Nagase) suspect a grand plot, but are thwarted in their attempts to investigate by weary seniors. Clues are supplied by The Bat, a more web-savvy mysterious informant. Can the detectives uncover the conspiracy and prevent more suicides? That is as much narrative analysis as the story can bear, as it veers off course in the second half into surrealism, MTV theatricals, and heavy-handed symbolism. "There is no suicide club" declares a juvenile voice on the phone, continually clearing its throat. Whether there is or isn't is a question never fully resolved.
Don't be taken in by reviewers who tell you that you have to be Japanese to understand this film - my Japanese students and friends are as baffled by the story as anyone else. Sion's film never quite lives up to that opening sequence in Shinjuku Station, but it compels you to go with it to the end, and provides a few thrills along the way. It is a shame it does not all quite pull together. But there are enough digs at Japan's shallow celebrity culture, crippling generation gap, obsessive consumerism, and indeed freakishly high suicide rate to make this worth watching.
In short, great visuals, shame about the script.