This week in Harsh Light of Day, we take a look at the upcoming film Iron Man, which I have already seen and am going to crudely savage below.

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Ha! Just kidding, folks. Still with me? Hello?!



Aw, fuck. Oh well.

Nah, this week we're talking about the classic 1989 Japanese cult film, Tetsuo: The Iron Man. Directed by independent filmmaker Shinya Tsukamoto, Tetsuo is a nightmarish vision of a salaryman's Kafkaesque transformation into a half-metal, half-human monster... kind of like Ron Paul (okay, that was a cheap shot).

The plot (as far as I can tell, anyway) goes like this: a metal fetishist, running down the street in a bloody, delirious panic after shoving a steel rod into his thigh, gets hit by a Japanese worker drone on his drive home from the office. Afterward, the sarariman's conscience starts to creep up on him... in the form of a kind of techno-virus, which consumes more and more of his body, his life, and ultimately his mind. As the virus progresses, we see the fetishist running amok inside the man's brain, gleefully cackling as the drone's life quickly turns to a steaming pile of shit.

Yeah, the plot's a bit confusing. But it's so, so worth it. The reason? Tetsuo is one of the most hauntingly photographed films ever made. With a combination of styles ranging from the stop-motion spastics of Jan Svankmajer and the Brothers Quay to the eerie atmospherics of Eraserhead and Elephant Man-era Lynch, the film is shot on 16mm black and white stock, which only contributes to the slight sense of unease you get from watching it all the way through. The soundtrack is just as creepy, with short bursts of static and sounds that could only come from putting a microphone inside the human throat. Okay, I have no idea if that last part is true, but it sounds like it is.

Tetsuo, for all its art-house cred, is also pretty fucking gory. When you make a film where one of the thematic elements is metal interacting with the human body, there's gonna be some blood. Monochrome blood, in this case, but again - it adds, rather than detracts to the film overall. And without me ruining one of the iconic scenes of the film, let's just say that having your girlfriend over while your entire body is converted to metal parts - moving metal parts - is never a good idea.

The main theme of the film is basically nature versus technology, but Tsukamoto never hits you over the head with it. Really, you're too busy deciphering the million images a minute to think about it a whole lot, which is way more subversive than most American films with "edgy" themes. Why? Because Tetsuo sticks with you. Even though on the surface it might seem like some sci-fi oddity from the Pacific Rim, you'll find yourself remembering parts of it for days afterward, trying to search for meaning in what is basically white noise in movie form.

I can't recommend watching this film enough, folks. It'll grab you, force you to watch it, and afterward you'll wonder what the fuck you just saw. You'll want to watch it again, but not that much - because you'll think it's kind of creepy, too. So you'll put it on the shelf and let it sit for a while. But, every now and then, you'll be drawn to it... kind of like you've been infected somehow.


MisterSatan has Shalome to thank for this week's column. If YOU want a movie to be written up by one of the internet's greatest no-talent hacks, take the bull by the horns and buy him one yourself, you lazy prick.