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Just as twistedly brilliant
as Tetsuo, though slightly less hyperkinetic, Tsukamoto’s
A Snake of June explores similar themes of repressed sexuality and
contrasting worlds, but with a far more linear plotline. Metallic
phallus imagery and psychosexual encounters do make an appearance,
however.
When suicide hotline counselor Rinko (Asuka Kurosawa) receives
explicit photos of herself from a mysterious caller, she is thrown
into a depraved game of hidden fantasies and unrestrained sexual
desire. As the voyeuristic stalker becomes determined to alter
her passionless life, Rinko’s compulsively clean husband
Shigehiko (Yuji Koutari) attempts to hunt him down. The three
disillusioned soul’s paths will inevitably intertwine. |
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Tsukamoto’s visual
style is unmistakably daring and A Snake of June is no exception.
Bathed in blue to suggest the unrelenting presence of water, the
images created are painstakingly crafted and unforgettably bizarre.
Close-ups of snails, drains, and circular windows mix with frantic
shots of action and nightmarishly surreal dreams pepper reality.
Far more linear than some of Tsukamoto’s previous efforts,
there’s still plenty of hallucinatory imagery to comprehend,
most memorably the sex show dream sequence accenting the themes
of voyeurism and the contrast of viewing the organic through circles.
Frenetic editing and dizzying camerawork also strive to keep this
thriller from ever slowing down, and even during extended single
shots on a stationary subject, the camera refuses to stay put, heightening
the sense of voyeurism and paranoia. Even in the chapter breaks
Tsukamoto’s maddeningly creative artistry is at work as curious
symbols denote the passing of time and the gradual joining of figures.
To match the delirious visuals is a fantastically diverse array of sound effects and music from composer Chu Ishikawa. Unending rain echoes in every scene and foreboding strings alternate the mood from morose to morbid, yet there’s always a calming satisfaction from the violins. Percussive tribalistic music heavy with the sounds of clanging metal enhances the tense scenes of violence and operatic tones waft through the more surrealistic segments. With disturbing imagery reminiscent of David Lynch’s Eraserhead (but with more meaningful parallels and less unexplained randomness), A Snake of June is a brilliant examination of voyeurism, buried desires, and suppressed passion through the looking glass of a twisted genius. Tsukamoto again proves he is the master of the sadistically surreal and has long since passed his American counterparts in both style and presentation. - Joel Massie |