Pale Flower is the rare film I picked for Criterion Month where I honestly can’t recall where or why the film came to my attention. But for whatever reason, it came onto my radar sometime in the past year and I’m glad it did. It’s a film that you’ll currently find on the “Japenese Noir” section of the Criterion Channel, which features many films I have not seen since the only Japanese film noir movies I can recall seeing are Akira Kurosawa’s High and Low and Seijun Suzuki’s Tokyo Drifter, the latter of which I feel like I mostly saw because it has an especially cool Criterion cover. Anyway, what I’ve learned from watching these three movies is that Japanese noir might be a bit more malleable than its American counterparts and that I should probably dive deeper into this genre to find out.
I’m not super attuned to what to expect from your typical Yakuza movie, of which there seems to be plenty, but it doesn’t feel like there’s too much that makes Pale Flower stand out story-wise. It centers on a gangster named Muraki (played by Ryō Ikebe), who has recently been released from prison, where he spent the last three years after killing a rival gang member. Shortly after getting out, we see him spending time at a gambling parlor, observing a game of tehonbiki, a game that seems to be somewhat similar to poker, though it’s a little hard to tell. Muraki notices that amongst the sea of men at the parlor, there’s one woman there, Saeko (Mariko Kaga), who wipes the floor with these chumps.
Shortly after this night, Muraki reconnects with Shinko (Chisako Hara), a woman he used to be in a relationship with and the two pick up where they left off, though Shinko seems a little more interested in a guy at her office. A little while later, Muraki crosses paths with Saeko again when he sees her out gambling one night and introduces himself. Seeing the promise in her, he brings her to more high-level card games with his various Yakuza colleagues. Muraki tends to his old Yakuza duties as the film progresses and things start to bubble up between the area’s rival gangs. He and Saeko also get to know each other better, though Muraki to his surprise learns that Saeko has the same attraction to danger and recklessness that he does. As the gang tensions escalate, Muraki finds himself frequently being chased in the night by rival gangsters, and when one of his bosses gets killed, he must decide whether it’s worth avenging him and risk getting thrown in prison again.
I suppose the one that stands out about Pale Flower‘s script that keeps it from being a typical crime story is the relationship between Muraki and Saeko. They never quite become lovers and it’s also hard to say whether they have a mentor/apprentice relationship either. This is because Saeko is clearly a better card player than Muraki, so really the only guidance she needs is how to navigate the Yakuza underworld. Though it quickly becomes clear that she’s naturally independent-minded enough that she doesn’t even really need help with that. So in the end, you get two people who are kindred spirits who can’t quite help each other escape their respective dooms.
Though really, the main appeal of this movie is its sublimely nocturnal vibes. I’m always a sucker for black and white widescreen photography from this period, and the way Pale Flower uses its shadowy images to evoke a world seemingly closed off from those working 9 to 5’s during the day is pretty exquisite. It’s also a movie that isn’t content just to be cool and detached all the time, since its dissonant score, rhythmic sound design, and occasionally experimental style make it a film where you never quite know where it’s going stylistically, even if you could probably guess where its story is going.
So all in all, just a very cool, well-plotted movie that’s a delight to look at. Also, at a brisk 96 minutes, it was just what I need at this point in Criterion Month, where the weight of picking so many early movies in our chronology is starting to wear on me.