4 out of 5

Directed by: Takashi Miike

Not surprisingly, given Miike’s assumed reputation as a shockmeister due to the crossover success of the films which grabbed others’ – mine included – attention, Audition and Ichi, in my rush to consume Takashi’s material thereafter, my brain initially glossed over fare like Ley Lines.  I watched it, but didn’t imprint many memories of it.  While not without some touches of typical excess, it is certainly one of Takashi’s more subtle, emotional efforts, the trio of youths at its forefront endearingly sincere, even whilst mixed up in murder, sex and violence.

Assuming a Miike fan – again, me – makes it past the turning point in which watching his film oeuvre is no longer the quest for more Ichi material bit simply appreciating the director’s unique skills and themes across his (as it inevitably turns out in a film career of 100+ flicks) incredibly varied resume, Ley Lines emerges as a standout amongst the Black Society Trilogy, and also as one of the most tonally consistent movies of Takashi’s career.

All of the Black Society films deal, to a certain extent, with naïve involvement in yakuza / triad dirty dealings leading to the demise of whomever we’ve been anchored to, generally in their attempted escape from the same dealings.  This is swirled with Takashi’s fascination with cross-cultural alienation – the three teen boys in Ley Lines are “mutts” of mixed Japanese / Chinese descent – and the relative innocence of the binds of family, herein expressed ever so oddly between the three boys and a prostitute with whom they all end up sharing a bed, in one way or another.  What’s especially fascinating about Ley Lines’ approach to this is how subdued its lawful transgressions are: gang members are shot without compunction, but then our teens take off on motorbikes with a hoot and a final kick-in-the-nads for an evil pimp; the triad boss auditions girls to read him fairy tales; severe beatings are recuperated from via unconscious sex; a would-be drug kingpin has an associate hawking his wares named Barbie.  While the mixture of violence and dark humor (and dumb humor) isn’t new to Miike, here it’s much more the latter – and a very soft-hearted version of it – than the former.  Ley Lines is rather bloodless.  We are experiencing this world (and its seeming lack of affect / complications) through the eyes of the youth.  Color, music, distracted dialogue and a plot path that is more focused on escape – from what?  to where? – than money or power all unite under this banner.

But I’ll admit: despite this synchronicity, and some wonderfully composed moments of amidst this moralistic and cultural stew, Ley Lines lacks the conflicted sting of Takashi’s best.  Shinjuku had this; Dead or Alive 1 and 2 had this: the don’t-look-away sensation in which you, the viewer, are unsure if you’re cheering or jeering; Miike’s overwhelming impulse to cut out at moments other films would offer resolution.  On his commentary, Tom Mes views Ley Lines as something of a summary of Takashi’s v-cinema career, and there is a fondness to it that prevents us from ever getting at something perhaps deeper.

But it’s certainly thematically in line with the Black Society trilogy, and is an incredibly accomplished piece of cinema.  If not for the director having proven his multi-layered approach in other flicks, it could be lauded as a supreme film, subverting our expectations for a flick about drugs and the mob.