Film Review: Shadow of Fire (2023) by Shinya Tsukamoto

“Tomorrow for sure”

As one of the few (I don’t want to say one of the last) Japanese filmmakers who can still produce movies with tension, pointed comments and a no-punches-pulled cinematic approach, every new movie Shinya Tsukamoto comes up with is a must-watch. In “Shadow of Fire”, he continues his anti-war message that also appeared in “Fires on the Plain” and “Killing”, this time focusing on the chaos that ensued in Japan just after the ending of World War 2. 

In an area adjacent to a black market, a young woman whose family was lost during the war is selling her body to make a living in a Japanese pub diner that barely survived the bombings. One day, a young soldier appears as a customer, and the woman asks him to stay the night, kickstarting a series of his visits, every night, and a continuous promise that he will pay the next day. At the same time, a young boy who seems to always carry food with him, also starts appearing in the same establishment, and soon the three start resembling something of a family. Soon, however, the trauma they all carry comes knocking, and they follow their own paths, with the boy starting a journey with a black market vendor, who also carries his own wounds. 

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Despite the in-your-face introductory scene, “Shadow of Fire” is actually much tamer in its presentation of violence than the two other parts of the trilogy, with Tsukamoto making his point this time in a different way. That people were lost and were trying to survive any way they could in a Japan that was completely devastated is the main comment here, with the director, however, highlighting that the trauma of the war would not let them move on in any way. As we watch the boy seeing nightmares in its sleep, the soldier being terrified every time he hears a loud noise, the woman searching for solace in the darkness, away from everyone’s eyes and the vendor being set on his horrifying goal, the comment becomes quite evident, with Tsukamoto essentially making fun of his protagonists’ notions of having something that resembles a family. 

At the same time, the kid personifies the impact the issues the grown up faced had on children, with the sheer cruelty of behaviors and overall violence he experiences highlighting that the people’s intense need for self-preservation had turned them into animals. Even the prostitute, who seems to care about the boy, is not able to treat him as she would probably like, with her behavior also mirroring that of the rest of the characters, to a point at least. 

At the same time, however, and by showing the kid continue moving on, against all odds, and perhaps as a metaphor for Japan itself, Tsukamoto sends a message of optimism, that even through all the hardships it experienced after the war, and even though some consequences did remain,  the country and its people actually survived and even thrived, due to sheer perseverance. 

Tsukamoto’s cinematography follows his usual style of intense coloring, and many close-ups particularly to the eyes of his protagonist, in order to highlight their emotion and overall psychological status. This approach is one of the main sources of tension here, along with his own crisp editing and the overall approach to the sound. At the same time, the framing showcases the claustrophobic setting the protagonists inhabit, particularly in the scenes that take place in the restaurant, while the voyeuristic scenes here aim to increase the tension and usually function as a sign that something bad is going to happen. Lastly, the transition from chamber drama to road movie also works quite well, inducing a sense of movement to a narrative that unfolds like a stage play for a large part of its duration, through a relatively fast pace, that fits the overall story nicely. 

Considering the aforementioned visual approach, Tsukamoto demanded a lot from his actors, and it is easy to say that they delivered in flying colors. The young Ouga Tsukao especially has a role that is shocking actually, considering what his character goes through, with the scene in the market in particular definitely staying on mind. That he manages to highlight his perplexity about the grown ups’ actions and his resolve throughout the movie, is a testament to his prowess in the role. Shuri in the role of the prostitute is also quite convincing, both in her will for something better and in her trauma that will not let her do so, while Hiroko Kono’s transformation is a true wonder to watch. Mirai Moriyama as the vendor presents his cold-heartedness in a way that can only be described as chilling, cementing the overall excellent job in the casting and acting here. 

Although on a level lower than his previous two films, particularly due to the difference in scope, “Shadow of Fire” is still an exceptional movie, from a filmmaker that continues on the unique road he paved by himself decades ago.