Wednesday, September 30, 2020

The Crimson Kimono

The Crimson Kimono (Samuel Fuller, 1959) When TCM was programming their "Asian Movie Month" this one ran three times (that I could count). It's an odd choice, but I was grateful as it's one of those Fuller movies that hasn't been all that available from any of the sources I search for these things.

As usual, it's a mixture of Fuller's higher sensibilities and his cynical carnival-barker understanding of what 'sells" to the public. Take a look at that poster; if that isn't "red meat" for an audience living in the America of 1959 where a third of the nation had laws against "mixed-race" marriages, I don't know what is. Fuller had an understanding and affection for Japanese culture—his House of Bamboo was filmed there and was one of the first American films post Second World War to do so—but, Japanese-American culture and the conflicts it imposes is a different matter. Visually, he marks the contrast by filming in L.A.'s International District with the L.A. courthouse looming only a few blocks away.

But, if you think this is a serious study of post-World War II prejudice and the intolerance of American white patriarchal traditions (it was, after all, okay for Robert Stack to woo Shirley Yamaguchi in 1955...), then you don't know Samuel Fuller.

How does he begin it? With a strip-tease sequence and the murder of same stripper (Gloria Pall) being gunned down in an L.A. street after witnessing a murder in her dressing room (a sequence that Fuller shot—with three hidden cameras—on Sixth and Main at night, without permits, which would have ruined the verisimilitude of the shot). Two detectives, Det. Sgt. Charlie Bancroft (Glenn Corbett) and Det. Joe Kojaku (James Shigeta) are assigned to the case. The two partners are as thick as thieves: they share the same apartment, and are blood-brothers, literally, as, during their Korean War service, Kojaku gave blood to save Bancroft's life. The pair are secure in their knowledge that they have each other's backs, and nothing could complicate that.

In the course of their investigations, they're going to learn different.

Their initial investigation is to the strip club in Little Tokyo, where the "ecdysiast," "Sugar Torch" was working. Her dressing room is a-clutter with renderings of Japanese-style sketches, as it turns out she was working up an act that has a little more content than the usual bump-and-grind solo, with kimono costumes and a love triangle story where she and her love are killed by a jealous karate practitioner. I guess everybody has ambitions. Charlie seeks the artist to see if he can get any background on Sugar's acquaintances, while Joe hits the local dojo's to see if Sugar had contacted them about the act.

The artist turns out to be Christine Downs (Victoria Shaw), a USC art student living in a sorority. Christine tells Charlie that the kimono drawing was a commission by a Mr. Hansel, working for Sugar on the act, and—here's a convenience!—Christine can do a pretty good sketch of the man. Also (another convenience) Charlie is attracted to Christine and flirts with her ferociously, to which she responds.
Joe's investigation bears some fruit, too. He tracks down the guy who was supposed to provide the stunts for Sugar's act, but when Joe confronts him, he panics and Joe loses him in a chase through Little Tokyo. Christine finishes her sketch and the detectives release it to the newspapers as part of their investigation. What they don't know is that this will complicate things...on many fronts. Charlie is warned by his bohemian artist-pal Mac (Anna Lee, of John Ford's stock company) that once the sketch has hit the papers, Christine won't be safe, and, indeed, someone takes a pot-shot at her at her sorority. Although it may not be the best of ideas, Charlie and Joe decide that Christine be put under police protection...by moving into their apartment—while they're working, Mac keeps an eye on her.

Joe and Charlie try to run down Hansel, fearing another attempt on Christine's life, and they talk to Roma, a wigmaker, who was doing the hair for Sugar's act. Turns out Hansel's real name is Paul Sand and used to work for the library as an "Asian specialist" and has disappeared, "gone to ground" somewhere. But, he'll show up, probably to make another attempt on Christine's life, so the search intensifies. But, the circumstances add another complication—one that is Fuller's true focus rather than the lurid murder investigation.

Joe has developed feelings for Christine. Deep feelings. And Christine has them for him. Complications lead to conflict—Joe and Charlie are best friends, but also partners in a dangerous profession. Joe knows Charlie is smitten with Christine, and he feels guilty about his coming between that. He doesn't even want to bring it up and hides it from him. But, he's of two minds in more ways than that: he also has some cultural clashes—the woman he's been seeing is Japanese, born, bred and living there and he's Nisei. His American roots has led to some doubts about continuing his relationship. And then, along comes Christine... From her side, Joe is the better man, more caring, more sensitive, less egotistical: how to break it to Charlie? As Mac sagely tells her, "Love is like a battle...Someone has to get a bloody nose."
Now, when Fuller was making this, he got push-back about it from the studio. There was pressure on Fuller to make Corbett's character "a sonofabitch" (in Fuller's words—from his biography "A Third Face"). For the studio, this would make Joe the more obvious suitor, and reassure audiences—white audiences—that the Christine character would prefer Joe and reject Charlie "even though he's white." Fuller wouldn't have any of it. "The girl chooses the Japanese guy because he's the man for her, not because the white guy's a sonofabitch. The whole idea of my picture is that both men are good cops and good citizens. The girl just happens to fall in love with the Nisei. They've got chemistry."
It's as simple as that. Joe's a good guy—Charlie's a good guy, too—but Christine is drawn more towards Joe because of who he is as a man, in colloquial terms "he's more her type." The tragedy comes, as in most triangles—if there's any conscience involved—for the third making a crowd. Joe, in this position and being sensitive to it (the very aspect that attracts her to Joe over Charlie), buries his feelings in frustration and Christine is hesitant and seemingly aloof around Joe when Charlie's around—which Charlie, at first, reads as racism on her part. It all gets very complicated, as the three stop being people and act as though they're relegated to "proper roles." Everybody begins to make assumptions about things they don't understand, and this triangle gets a little bumpy.
It's tempting to say that the story of the investigation gets pushed aside for the "love story," but, in fact, the two are mirrors of each other, both involving secrets and others filling in the holes with their own interpretations of what's going on. The film resonates more once the crime has been solved, but it only provides context for a story that, on the face of it, looks to be about racial identity. Given the completion of the movie, it looks to be more about suppression of self in order to satisfy a perceived role, especially where emotions are concerned. I've written elsewhere that love can be perceived as a form of madness—it certainly can put one off one's game, and make you do things you wouldn't do "where calmer heads prevail." It make look like prejudice, but it is subjugation, even if it's self-imposed.
The Crimson Kimono is rough around the edges. It's a pot-boiler, frequently filmed with guerilla techniques, and temperatures—and performances—can run a little hot. But, Fuller, who had a reporter's sensibilities (and a huckster's sense of flamboyance and salesmanship) tells a story fully intended to knock one out of one's safely-balanced comfort zone. His action sequences are kinetic, sometimes frantic, and he wasn't afraid to go overboard when making a point—I always imagine him directing by jabbing two fingers, with his ever-present cigar between, for emphasis. He wasn't subtle, but he'd take you places you may never have thought of before—or places you didn't want to consider. "Maverick" is the most obvious adjective. "Human" is another.

He despised that poster, by the way. Pure racism, and that is what he was railing against.
A word about James Shigeta: this was his first film role after years as a singer. It was Corbett's first film, too, but where both men are comfortable in front of the camera, Shigeta acts like he lives there, far more relaxed, less on-guard, and not afraid to take chances. He'll chew an apple through a scene, casually grilling a lead, and he's more than believable in action scenes. Fuller gave his most notable parts to women (usually), whereas the men, even men in conflict, could be stoic and pretty stiff. Not Shigeta. He's actor enough to let the audience in to feel his pain, but not enough to lose their respect. It's a very impressive debut, and one wishes he'd been given more opportunities like this throughout his career.

Of COURSE, Christine's character prefers him; who wouldn't?

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