THE STORY – A livestreamer discovers a hidden cache of rare vintage denim. When a subscriber lures him to Japan promising a fortune for the jeans, he soon finds himself caught in a dangerous turf war with the Yakuza.
THE CAST – Cole Sprouse, Kiko Mizuhara, Nijiro Murakami, Pierre Taki & Hio Miyazawa
THE TEAM – Eugene Kotlyarenko (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 105 Minutes
The Midnight Madness section of the Toronto International Film Festival has launched some iconic titles since its inception in 1988 – “Saw,” “Borat,” and “Reservoir Dogs,” to name a few. And after Curry Baker brought “Obsession” to last year’s Midnight Madness, genre filmmakers are understandably chomping at the bit to be the next big breakout sensation. Eugene Kotlyarenko is one of those filmmakers, and while his new feature “Vintage Violence” may appear to have all the ingredients of a new cult horror flick, it’s not exactly something to obsess over.
With his previous film “Spree,” Kotlyarenko combined chaotic action with the idiosyncrasies of being online to create a memorable and disturbing dark comedy-horror. With “Vintage Violence”, the writer-director attempts to push the envelope further into absurdly delirious territory. The neon-bathed splatter comedy follows internet-obsessed livestreamer Carter Tipe (Cole Sprouse), who comes across a priceless cache of vintage denim worth a fortune. After being lured to Japan to sell the jeans by one of his loyal subscribers Izumi Adachi (Kiko Mizuhara), Carter soon finds himself running through neon-lit Tokyo from the infamous and deadly Yakuza.
Eugene Kotlyarenko takes a bold choice by making “Vintage Violence” essentially a mixed-media picture, combining vertical iPhone footage (admittedly, hard to avoid in the Internet-obsessed digital streaming age, but never not annoying to see on the big screen) with screengrab-esque shots from livestreams, video calls, and social media. When done right, this digital fragmentation can have an immersive effect, but in the case of “Vintage Violence,” it ultimately ends up adding to the disjointed and chaotic, all-too-busy feel that runs rampant throughout the entire runtime. Kotlyarenko directs it well enough, especially the sparse comedy moments that land, so it’s worth noting that the charm of the fluorescent crime caper does indeed shine through the chaos on more than one occasion.
Cole Sprouse and Kiko Mizuhara give solid performances and bring an appealing loose charm to both Carter and Izumi – the latter in particular, who is arguably the more layered individual of the two. Mizuhara particularly nails the multifaceted character of Izumi, giving her quirky and curious qualities that keep things interesting, despite an increasingly convoluted plot and cartoonish, fractured plotlines. Hio Miyazawa and Pierre Taki provide entertainment with their gritty Yakuza roles, bringing Edoga and Ko, respectively, to life with near-caricatures that somehow work just fine. Believability of relationships (particularly Carter and Izumi’s) and the emotional possibilities of the film via its underdeveloped characters are all buried beneath the film’s own excessive overkill. Despite this, the actors commit to and work with the material they have, and it’s a fun time that is anything but a drag.
“Vintage Violence” is not without merit, and the film has mostly its technical aspects to thank for that. It’s apparent that Kotlyarenko has delighted in combining a digital age and technical world with the neon and gritty aesthetics of a Tokyo street at night. Combined with Sean Price Williams’ (“Good Time”) textured cinematography, the visual execution of the crime drama is as vivid as it is a spectacle. The needle drops are sudden and zany, and the editing is as frantic as Tokyo’s Shibuya Crossing. Altogether, these elements give “Vintage Violence” an unrestrained energy that is both a detriment to the narrative and yet its most engaging factor.
As visual and flashy as it is, “Vintage Violence” is an excellent modern example of style over substance, which can make for a fun “background movie,” but it’s so narratively thin that it’s hard to become invested. From teetering on Japanese fetishization to characters that feel secondary to the neon-lit concept, the crime caper just doesn’t hit the mark. There is indeed a heart to the film hidden behind pachinko parlors, the glowing, electric street signs, and the nonstop action – it’s buried, but it’s there. Overall, Kotlyarenko’s unrestrained effort isn’t without charm or memorable moments, but it ultimately ends up as a more exhausting watch than an exhilarating one.
