There's this thing that seems to happen whenever a much loved film gets a sequel, where people who enjoyed it will roll their eyes at the idea and claim that filmmakers have run out of ideas, or are trying to milk something for all its worth. We're in an age of franchises, where it's not hard to find series with multiple entries, or entire film universes. But this is nothing new, films have been doing this for a long, long time. And Japan loves a good sequel. As long as there has been cinema in Japan there have been sequels, with some of their biggest hits and most enduring characters being part of multi film epics. And despite what you might think looking at the cover of Prison Walls: Abashira Prison from Eureka Entertainment, this series is not a neat and tidy trilogy; there are eighteen films in this series.
Collecting together the first three of these films into one neat package, this new release offers film fans a chance to discover an enduring and much loved series from Japanese cinema. The seventh instalment was the highest grossing film in Japan in 1966, so these weren't cheaply made and quietly released movies. Having never heard of this series before this release, I was incredibly surprised by how many films there were, but having thoroughly enjoyed the first three I can see why audiences kept coming back for more.
The first film, based on a novel about someone's real life experience in the remote Abashira prison, tells the story of Shinichi Tachibana (Ken Takakura), a young member of the yakuza who is sent to the titular prison for a light six month sentence. However, Shinichi is worried about spending even such a short time in prison as his mother is gravely ill, and he worries that she may pass before he returns home to her. Because of this, and with him being a model prisoner, Shinichi is working towards an early release. However, when working on one of the chain gangs in the cold of winter, Shinichi finds himself tied to the hardened criminal Gonda (Kôji Nanbara) as he enacts an escape attempt, forcing him to go along.
Because of the lack in studio trust in the movie, the first entry in the series was made in black and white, and stands out from the others because of this. However, the black and white does lend the film a certain extra weight, and makes it feel like a film worth paying attention to. Perhaps it's being alive in a time where black and white tends to be an artistic choice in modern cinema, but knowing that Abashira Prison was made in black and white in a time where other films were in colour does make it feel like more of a thematic choice. The black and white also looks great in the snow covered environments too.
The movie is pretty straight forward, and it manages to get you on board with its lead thanks to flashbacks that flesh out his character and makes you see him as someone to sympathise with despite being a character you probably shouldn't. Those who've watched The Defiant Ones will notice some big similarities, but the film does enough new in itself to not feel like a rehash or a cheap knock off.
The second film, now shot in colour thanks to the firsts popularity, shows Shinichi as he attempts to re-join society after the events of the first film have been resolved. But, luck is not on his side. A group of thieves have robbed a bank, stealing a cache of diamonds. The thieves hide the diamonds inside an algae ball, carried around by a fake nun (you can tell the tone has shifted somewhat here), but one of the balls manages to find its way into Shinichi's keeping. This puts our protagonist in the sights of both the law, and the criminal gang. Shinichi embarks upon a mission to clear his name, and avoid another prison sentence.
Another Abashiri Prison Story is something of a change in tone from the first film, and it take on a much more light hearted approach. The change from black and white to colour coupled with this tonal shift does make the change feel a bit stark when watched alongside the first; however, the two happening at the same time does kind of work too, with the lighter themes and different approach to the material ushering in literal colour into this world. The change from the cold, snowy environs of the first film to the bustle and excitement of the big city also marks this as a big change for the series; but one that I think allows for more room for the sequels, as eighteen movies of Shinichi in the same prison just wouldn't work.
Abashiri Prison: Saga of Homesickness is the third film in the set, and returns to the more serious tone of the first, by completely ignoring the events of the second film. Having been released from prison, Shinichi makes contact with his yakuza boss, played by Kanjūrō Arashi. We see the fallout of Shinchi's actions, and learn how things have changed for his entire yakuza gang whilst he was away. The film is quite melodramatic in places, and has the twisting narrative that a lot of Japanese crime dramas have. It questions whether it's actually possible to leave the criminal life, as Shinichi and others try to go straight but are forced by circumstances to break the law once again. It posits the idea that once you start down the criminal path it is impossible to ever be fully off it.
The film also contains a sub plot about a young girl with a mix race heritage, being both Japanese and Black. The movie tries to do commentary about race and racism in Japan, but is hampered a great deal by the fact that the actor is in Blackface the entire time. This was a different era, sure, but it still feels like it shouldn't have been impossible for the filmmakers to find a young actress who could play the part without the need to putting on makeup. Eureka do include a small warning about this before the film, which is appreciated, and whilst it may be distasteful to many viewers it is also a piece of film history, and should be noted at least for how the portrayal of Black people was handled in Japanese cinema at the time.
Each of the films gets its own audio commentary, with different contributors to each; Tom Mes handles the first film, Chris Poggiali covered the second, and Mike Leeder and Arne Venema come together to talk about the third. Each of the commentaries offers additional insight into their respective movies, as well as the series as a whole, Japanese cinema at the time, and the careers of those involved. As with every Eureka commentary track, they end up being hugely informative, and gets you interested in the small details of the movies. There are also some trailers, and a couple of features, including an interview with critic and Asian film expert Tony Rayns, and a video appreciation with Jasper Sharp and Mark Schilling; both of these last around thirty minutes and goes into the making of the movies and other behind the scenes info. All in all, the special features end up being a great addition to the films, and showcases a ton of expert knowledge.
Whilst sequel fatigue is a phrase that some throw out about films (usually either those who dislike films made to be fun, or those that are just grouches) cinema will always embrace certain stories and characters and will return to tell stories of them time and time again. It's easy to see why this series became popular in Japan, and with the first three films here showcasing different tones and styles, and making some decent swings in terms of story, it's fascinating to think about the other fifteen films in the series and what they might have done. Hopefully this set will prove to be a success, and Eureka will release the other sequels in the future.
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