Spree director Eugene Kotlyarenko is back with another chaos-infused genre-bender that evolves his experimentations with form. Vintage Violence combines retro Japanese exploitation tropes with chronically online energy for a madcap mixed media romp that hits the ground running and doesn’t stop. Ever. It’s as dizzying in its frenzied pacing as its technology-driven style, and Koytlarenko’s ambition is unwavering in his refusal to take himself too seriously.
Vintage Violence opens with a livestream that introduces Carter (Cole Sprouse), an urban explorer influencer-type recently released from prison related to the accidental death of his co-host. We meet him just as he discovers a crate of vintage 19th-century Levi’s buried beneath an abandoned home. Izumi (Kiko Mizuhara), watching from across the globe in Japan from her hostess gig, immediately sees an opportunity. “Come to Japan,” she tells him via audio message on the stream. Izumi knows those jeans will fetch a high price in Japan, and she manages to convince Carter to jump on a plane without a plan or much else beyond the duffle bag of prized jeans.
The trusting American has no idea that Izumi and her boyfriend Hiro (Nijiro Murakami) plan to backstab him and claim the cash for themselves, or that the double cross will put them on the direct path of exiled Yakuza enforcer Ko (Pierre Taki), who’s out for revenge against denim-obsessed yakuza boss Edoga (Hio Miyazawa).
Kotlyarenko, who writes and directs, blends traditional filmmaking with a screenlife pov with manic style. Vintage Violence overwhelms initially with its rapid cuts between vertical livestream footage and split screens in its frenzied introductions to a cast of rather unlikable but lively characters. But the mixed media caper quickly finds its frenzied rhythm and lets the increasingly complicated bid for cash and jeans take center stage.
Sprouse’s calmer, along-for-the-ride Carter emerges as a strong counterbalance to the zany antics, which come fast and furious. It’s not just betrayal and theft that Carter must fend off at a constant clip, but the nonstop barrage of gaijin jokes. It’s here that Vintage Violence‘s comedy becomes most uneven, with much of Carter’s arc defined by fending off animosity toward foreigners and a potential romance with untrustworthy Izumi. Some of these jokes wear thin, especially when it comes to a cartoonish American embassy aide.
Mizuhara offsets Izumi’s more frustrating decisions with energetic charisma befitting of a Kotlayarenko feature, and also proves a good sport when the filmmaker really starts digging into his Takashi Miike influences in the film’s back half. Fans of V-cinema provocateurs like Miike and Ryuhei Kitamura will recognize familiar tropes and personalities when it comes to the film’s seedier villains, and how disturbed and gory their violence can get.
Vintage Violence successfully captures the frantic feeling of racing through a city in a desperate bid to stay alive; it’s a complete sensory assault that never delves too deep or overstays its welcome. Sprouse and Kiko Mizuhara keep the chaos just enough on the rails to ensure a fun, hyper-violent romp, but one that doesn’t fully leave a lasting impression. It’s Kotlyarenko’s careful control of the chaos that most impresses, and his clever implementation of technology. A Bluetooth earbud-tracked foot chase is particularly inspired, more so than the seamless split screens and incorporation of screenlife footage. It all makes for a zany, sometimes overly silly, and eternally overstimulating caper that’s fearless in its playful experimentation.
Vintage Violence made its premiere at TIFF and is seeking distribution.
