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Is this 80s cult clas­sic Japan’s answer to Mad Max?

21 Feb 2022

Words by Anton Bitel

Armoured figure in dark attire with glowing lights, crouching in an urban setting.
Armoured figure in dark attire with glowing lights, crouching in an urban setting.
Crazy Thun­der Road, direc­tor Sogo Ishii’s explo­sive anti-estab­lish­ment thriller, is ded­i­cat­ed to all crazy bikers”.

Sogo Ishii’s Crazy Thun­der Road begins with a smok­ing vol­cano, and a fall­en motor­bike. These open­ing images in fact come from the film’s chrono­log­i­cal end, and between them one can dis­cern the prin­ci­pal arc of its nar­ra­tive, as the irre­press­ible erup­tion of pro­tag­o­nist Jin (Tat­suo Yama­da) leads inevitably to his – and oth­ers’ – doom. To Jin, it is always bet­ter to go out in an explo­sive blaze of glo­ry than mere­ly to burn out, and so this fea­ture embod­ies the very spir­it of live fast, die young.

Inso­lent, recal­ci­trant Jin heads the omi­nous­ly named Kamikaze’ crew of the Maboroshi (or Phan­toms’) motor­cy­cle gang, inde­pen­dent­ly enact­ing vicious guer­ril­la attacks on oth­er gangs. Yet the Mabaroshi’s leader Ken (Koji Nan­jō) is straight­en­ing up his act and set­tling down with Noriko (Michiko Kita­hara). Guess I’m get­ting old,” Ken tells her, via out­mod­ed inter­ti­tles which under­line his obso­les­cence. In par­al­lel to this seri­ous new rela­tion­ship, Ken is also enter­ing an alliance with the oth­er gangs. In oth­er words, he is leav­ing behind child­ish things.

Jin, how­ev­er, refus­es to play ball or to acqui­esce in any way to grow­ing up, and so per­suades the rest of the Kamikazes – and the con­flict­ed Shigeru (Masashi Koji­ma) – to go rogue with him on a sui­ci­dal mis­sion against, well, every­one else. With the stakes ris­ing and con­se­quences com­ing to call, Jin is left not only griev­ous­ly injured but also increas­ing­ly iso­lat­ed in his rebel­lious out­bursts, even as all the oth­er gang­sters move on and grow up, either join­ing the police force or get­ting into bed (lit­er­al­ly, in Shigeru’s case) with an ultra-nation­al­ist para­mil­i­tary group led by the (sig­nif­i­cant­ly) old­er mil­i­tary vet­er­an Tadashi (Hiroshi Kaiya).

When Jin takes his last ultra­vi­o­lent stand, it is hard­ly a coin­ci­dence that he is joined in his heav­i­ly armed cam­paign by an actu­al child (albeit a street kid who sells drugs and injects hero­in). For Jin is not only tak­ing revenge against the many foes that he has made along the way, but also quixot­i­cal­ly resist­ing the grav­i­ta­tion­al forces of adult­hood itself. Sick­ened by the order and author­i­tar­i­an­ism of grown-up life, Jin is a punk­ish Peter Pan tak­ing one final chaot­ic ride under the ban­ner of rebel­lious youth, and Crazy Thun­der Road both cel­e­brates and instan­ti­ates Jin’s unruly exu­ber­ance through Ishii’s kinet­ic, cut-up style of filmmaking.

Three people riding on a motorcycle in a dark urban setting.

Indeed, Jin and Ishii are dri­ven by a sim­i­lar­ly fierce inde­pen­dence. For much as Jin oper­ates solo, beyond the con­trol of the gang to which he belongs, and then of the mil­i­tary cadre that he joins mere­ly to pick up fight­ing skills, Ishii him­self was a prac­ti­tion­er of jishu eiga, or low-bud­get ama­teur films made entire­ly out­side of the stu­dio sys­tem. Shot for peanuts on 16mm, Crazy Thun­der Road was Ishii’s film school grad­u­a­tion project at Nihon Uni­ver­si­ty, but extra­or­di­nar­i­ly was then picked up by Toei Stu­dios, restruck on 35mm and released in cin­e­mas. (The stu­dio pre­vi­ous­ly had Ishii’s no-bud­get first film, the 8mm short Pan­ic in High School, remade as a fea­ture in 1978.)

So Ishii, like Jin, was a free agent, work­ing entire­ly autonomous­ly at a young age, but still, again like Jin, attract­ing the atten­tion of the big pow­er play­ers. Ishii was not how­ev­er speed­ing down a road of crash­ing destruc­tion, but lay­ing the foun­da­tions for a long career in film­mak­ing which would include the futur­is­tic dystopia Burst City, dys­func­tion­al domes­tic dra­ma The Crazy Fam­i­ly, remythol­o­gis­ing peri­od piece Gojoe and the cyber­punk Elec­tric Drag­on 80,000 V.

Crazy Thun­der Road did not come from a vac­u­um. The aggres­sive anomie of its pro­tag­o­nist evokes (and updates) the bull-in-a-chi­na-shop anti­hero of Kin­ji Fukasaku’s Grave­yard of Hon­or, while the cod­ed make­up and cos­tumes of the dif­fer­ent bike gangs are clear­ly influ­enced by George Miller’s Mad Max and Wal­ter Hill’s The War­riors. This places Ishii’s film in a tra­di­tion of, pre­cise­ly, non-tra­di­tion­al, anti-estab­lish­ment works that kick hard against the sta­tus quo of a world that they expose as repel­lent, even fascis­tic in its conventions.

Ded­i­cat­ed to all crazy bik­ers,” reads on-screen text at the film’s end, prac­ti­cal­ly defy­ing us to iden­ti­fy with its hero. As a wil­ful, pugna­cious child in an adult’s body, Jin might not exact­ly be like­able, but his absolute refusal to bow or even com­pro­mise before oppres­sive author­i­ty makes him a fig­ure of resis­tance and a vol­canic force of nature, con­fronting our cul­ture as much with elec­tric brio as emp­ty bravado.

Crazy Thun­der Road is released on Blu-ray on 21 Feb­ru­ary via Third Win­dow Films.

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