fall guy

Directed by the same savant who calculated the atrocities of Battle Royale, Fall Guy is another gruesome scrabble which asks a central question in Japanese filmmaking: Who is that guy in the background of Samurai flicks?

Even if you've only seen Oldboy's elevator lobby scene, you'll recall those Kurosawa dudes who writhe and twist about in the background, limping from the blows they never received, reeling from backflips to escape any sort of wound. They flinch and fall like doves, unburdening themselves so that the central character can have a little circle of spotlight all for themselves.

Yasu is the dog-tired, doggedly-persistent underdog: square-jawed, weary-eyed, he is a background stuntman who would be unconvincing in a leading role. But through the magic of cinema, and the vain, prissy fumblings of the actual star of the show, poor, ugly Yasu is thrust the vain fop's leading lady: she's pregnant, he doesn't want to deal with it, and his stuntman has always dealt with the difficult blows in the past.

It's a cute story, and it's over-acted in the most delightfully cheesy way. Of course, this isn't just some romantic comedy wherein the ugly man gets the pretty girl. It's meta: movies unfold within movies, spills down staircases stand for metaphysical boils. It's not a happy love story: for each dollar he must make to support his beautiful suicidal wife, Yasu must take another spill for the glory of cinema. Love is pain, wounds are kisses, each bandage is a change of reel.