![[tokyo fist]](tokyofist.jpg)
think of this as a lower budget, less articulate yet more expressive precursor of fincher's
fight club. the same sort of love
(love/hate) triangle is in effect (the sissy biz guy, the tough guy, the freak chick), the
same sort of shift from cold directorial precision to convey the sterility of life as a
salaryman (tsuda is an insurance adjuster, ed norton's narrator something similar, though
slightly more cynical) to the disorienting narrative and montage techniques to convey
breakdown and, though this sounds shlock, rebirth. fincher institutes dynamics, though:
the soap subplot, the shift from the fight club proper to the terrorist activities. tsukamoto,
instead, opts for minimalism and simplicity (yeah, i'm aware that's the staple
yank-who-digs-jap-art cliché but...), limiting the circle of characters you remember
afterwards to the main three (no man-tits here).
and yeah, i read that book by palahniuk.