Lumberjack the Monster Review: A Lurid Thriller With Unexpected Depth

Takashi Miike has directed over a hundred films, exploring genres like horror, thrillers, and children’s movies with bold creativity. Known for pushing boundaries, he brings an intense vision. His new film, Lumberjack the Monster, follows a lawyer seeking revenge on the masked man who tried killing him.

Akira Ninomiya survives an attack by an axe-wielding monster but is left with a mystery. As the body count rises from a serial killer removing victims’ brains, Akira joins the hunt using his legal smarts. But he harbors a dark secret of his own. We soon learn of a disturbing government experiment on children that connects the cases, with revenge and justice as blurred lines.

This thriller keeps you guessing with twists as it dives into what makes us human. While the story stretches in places, Kazuya Kamenashi shines as the complicated Akira. Miike brings style and an examination of morality that will spark discussion long after the final frame.

Caged Criminals Unleashed

Akira Ninomiya is a lawyer in Tokyo who lacks empathy for others. His only aim is to climb the ranks of his prestigious law firm through any means. When a masked assailant attacks Akira with an axe one night, nearly taking his life, it sets him on a collision course with a cunning serial killer prowling the city streets.

This mysterious “Lumberjack” targets victims with a chip embedded in their brain, removing their gray matter in disturbing rituals. Forensic profiling detective Ranko Toshiro is determined to unravel the killer’s agenda and recent attacks. Her investigation leads back to an unsolved case from over 30 years ago, when a woman was apprehended for keeping kidnapped children in vats in her basement, some of whom were subjected to sinister experiments.

As Akira recovers, driven to extract revenge on his own terms, he starts to piece together clues that link him and other victims to this disturbing past case. His nonchalant friend Sugitani, a surgeon, suspects Akira’s chip may have altered his humanity. Now desiring to repair the damage to regain his numb mentality, Akira plunges headfirst into the murky depths of the case alongside the zealous Detective Toshiro, who will stop at nothing to apprehend the Lumberjack before he can strike again.

Their parallel pursuits soon expose long-buried secrets, challenging Akira and the Lumberjack to confront what they’ve become. When the fates of these two broken antagonists ultimately collide in a final fiery confrontation, it reveals hard truths about moral culpability and what truly makes a monster.

While Akira relishes detachment from others, the Lumberjack wears his bleeding heart on his sleeve, haunted by past failures despite a new purpose to end manufactured psychopaths. We learn this mysterious killer is in fact Takeshi Kenmochi, who was subjected to the same experiments as a child, which altered his psyche, making him short-tempered. After his chip malfunctions, though, he’s wracked with guilt over the wife he murdered in a rage and aims to undo the crimes of their shared past.

Yet Akira still struggles with dependence on his chip, going so far as to hold his fiance hostage, reflecting how deeply shaped he remains. Throughout it all, Detective Toshiro bears witness to their dehumanization and hopes to prevent further tragedy, seeing them as victims of inflicted identities beyond their control. In the end, are any truly irredeemable, or does humanity still exist somewhere within these malformed monsters? The ruins left behind offer no simple answers, only ashes of the past.

Nature vs. Upbringing

What makes a monster? This is the complex question explored in Lumberjack the Monster. Several characters have had their moral empathy removed by brain chips implanted without consent during horrific experiments as children. Left with only self-interest and emotionless calculation, it’s surprising some turn to darkness.

Yet the story challenges preconceptions. Akira begins as a ruthless killer but grows in humanity, experiencing guilt and love for the first time. His damaged chip offers a glimpse of the man he might have been. Takeshi also transforms from wife-murderer to avenging protector after his chip deactivates. Both men display seeds of decency amidst the violence thrust upon them, leaving the audience questioning nature versus nurture.

If someone only knows how to be a monster, can they help shape a different destiny? The film presents no easy answers, honoring the complexity of human psychology. Even in our darkest deeds, a spark of goodness may yet light our way to redemption. But overcoming a monstrous past demands confronting harsh truths, and not all find the strength or cause to walk that difficult road.

In Lumberjack the Monster, definitions of good and evil blur amidst corruption and cruel experimentation. The “heroes” kill without mercy, while the “villain” acts from a warped sense of atonement. None escape guilt, yet understanding motivates compassion where the law offers only judgment.

The film invites viewers to view these morally gray characters with empathy instead of condemnation. Even monsters are not completely beyond redemption if they recognize the humanity in others, as Takeshi seems to by the film’s end. Forgiveness depends not on the sins of the past but on the present choice to protect the vulnerable. Akira’s redemption remains unfinished, yet his growing affection shows how much he loves allies, even with our darkest impulses to bring out our common goodness.

In shadowlands where right and wrong mix, this psychological thriller suggests the only path is standing together—understanding instead of accusing and accepting change in ourselves and others. Where there is life, there is hope.

Takashi Miike’s Vision Comes Through

Takashi Miike has cultivated a reputation for bold, thought-provoking films that push boundaries, and his style is on full display in Lumberjack the Monster. While the narrative gets bogged down in places, Miike’s flashier directorial instincts keep viewers engaged.

Violence has long been a part of Miike’s artistic toolkit, used to drive home psychological thrills or social commentary. It’s handled graphically here, from the grisly opening scene to the climactic confrontation. But Miike ensures these moments are unsettling rather than gratuitous. They highlight the film’s examination of human nature versus artificial manipulation.

Pacing is another area Miike has refined over a prolific career, and he maintains tension even during exposition. Scenes flow briskly from one to the next, held together by a grim, Gothic score. The director varies shot lengths and angles to maintain an unsettled feel. Questioning close-ups contrast with wide shots framing characters as chess pieces in the killers’ game.

Cinematography is where Miike’s vision truly comes to the fore. He envelops the screen in dominating shades of gray and brown, as if the characters are drowning in their murky pasts. Static cameras emphasize bleak urban and rural settings, while fluid handheld work brings chaotic action beats to life. Clever use of light and shadow depicts the emotional turmoil boiling under surfaces.

Through his technical prowess and bold aesthetics, Miike breathes vibrancy into the story’s darker themes. Lumberjack the Monster is an imperfect film, but the director’s inimitable style ensures it remains compulsively watchable.

Ambiguous Allies and Antagonists

Kazuya Kamenashi delivers an unnerving performance as Akira Ninomiya. Behind his handsome looks lies a calculating mind devoid of empathy. Akira is a man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants; his humanity is long buried under ambition. Kamenashi captures Akira’s complete lack of remorse in even his subtlest gestures.

Equally compelling is Nanao as profiler Ranko Toshiro. Smart and principled, Ranko is determined to catch the killer at any cost. Though hampered by bureaucracy, Nanao ensures we feel Ranko’s fiery passion to stop the murderer and serve justice. Her steely nerves are tested as the case’s secrets are revealed.

Shido Nakamura adds layers to former suspect Kenji Iwase. Where some might play Iwase as shifty, Nakamura imbues him with a sad weariness, a man scarred by past mistakes trying in vain to put things right. We sympathize with his plight more than we suspect him.

Riho Yoshioka also moves us as Akira’s fiancée, Emi. Though she is destined for heartbreak, Yoshioka makes Emi’s kindness and open heart feel genuine. We can understand why someone might fall for Akira, despite all the warnings. It’s a testament to Yoshioka’s ability to find depth in a role that could have felt superficial.

These multilayered performances are what elevate Lumberjack beyond routine thrills. The actors breathe humanity into even murderous characters, keeping us guessing about morality until the final frame. It’s a tightrope walk pulled off with nuance and care.

Lumbering Horrors and Hidden Depths

Takashi Miike’s “Lumberjack the Monster” presents a murky tale of psychopathy and punishment that won’t satisfy all viewers. What it lacks in fast pacing, it tries to make up for with complicated characters and probing moral dilemmas.

The film takes its time unwinding the disturbing history that connects a lawyer, a serial killer, and decades-old experiments on children. Miike wants us to consider how much responsibility these damaged people hold for their violent actions. When are they monsters, and when are they just unfortunate souls at the mercy of events beyond their control?

It’s a thought-provoking premise, but the dense plotting risks losing those without patience. Some brutal violence and twisted themes also won’t appeal to the squeamish. Still, those intrigued by examinations of morality in extreme situations may find emotional food for thought beneath the gore.

Ultimately, this lurid thriller is hit-or-miss, depending on tastes. But it shows that even in his most mainstream work, Miike refuses to offer easy answers. If you respect films that take risks and look beneath sensational surfaces, you may find this lumbering effort’s hidden depths justify its running time. It leaves questions that will linger longer than some speedier shockers.

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