Hitoshii Matsumoto double:
R100: A man signs up for a subscription s&m club where dominatrixes (dominatricies?) will beat him up in day to day life without warning. The acts are mostly him being kicked. Arbitrarily he decides it's gone too far, despite being warned he can't quit mid-subscription, and then the acts ostensibly become more extreme and shockingly hilarious. Ostensibly because the film is empty provocation and comedically shitty and there's nothing challenging to be found. There are scenes in this where a group of producers of the film itself take smoke breaks from the film and talk about how it makes no sense. They are hundreds of times more revolting in their cowardice and facile metacommentary than any of the "unexpected" (but actually it's all expected and stale because we essentially only see the parts where the protagonist is beaten up) subjugation. Especially because the problem isn't that the film makes no sense, it's that it tries to have it both ways: it wants to be an illogical showcase of perverseness for its own sake, while it also disembowels that possibility by attempting inert drama and commentary on reality. An ugly snooze, if it had been actually boundary-pushing it could've been mildly interesting. Instead here's this insecure unfunny unimaginative refuse. 2/10
Symbol: Scenario one: a pickup-driving chain-smoking nun speeds to her family home to give her luchador father (nom de guerre: ESCARGOT MAN) a ride to his big match. Mother and grandpa whisper nervouslyhis opponents are young and strong, Escargot is visibly getting up in years. But his son believes in him.
Scenario two: a man in colorful pajamas wakes in an empty cool white chamber. No one answers, there are no seams for a door. There's a protrusion on a wall. He presses it, and a cherub floats through the wall. He's poked its penis. Hundreds of cherubs float out, encroaching him, then return inside the walls. Well, all of them except their statuesque dicks. The man presses more dicks, books and toys and furniture and pottery and food shoots out of slots that quickly reseal.
The first situation never goes anywhere noteworthy, eventually being consumed by the second. That second situation, though. Physical comedy galore, creative and playful torture. Akin to watching someone struggle through a puzzle game. Or the most fucked up Pixar short ever. Even when you know what's going to happen it's funny, probably because the lead (played by the director) sells it so well. To wit: nigiri drops to the floor, but the soy sauce dish is empty. Our man presses dicks to no availall the sentient room throws at him is more nigiri. He gives in and stuffs his face for minutes, and as soon as he's done? A fresh bottle of soy sauce. As it reaches its conclusion and has its obligatory tie-in with the other narrative the film is burning fumes. Matsumoto spends the last ten-ish minutes foregoing laughs for run-of-the-mill eccentricity. The punchline is partially worth it. 6/10
