Takashi Miike
The first Takashi Miike movie I saw was an unedited version of Ichi the Killer, and any time a movie begins with the title sequence being jizzed out, you know you are in for a fucked up ride. That is exactly what it ended up being. A fucked up (albeit brilliant and engrossing) ride. Much like many of these others directors, that one film was enough to make me want to see what this guy had to offer. Three movies later, I knew he was one of “them.” The breed of directors whose minds must be really fucking twisted places.
So it was Audition, Visitor Q, and Imprint I watched after Ichi, and it felt like some dirty, fat, sweaty bus driver had fingered my brain. I felt dirty. I felt overwhelmed. I also felt slightly awed. As twisted as those films I just mentioned are, they are also wildly unique and original stories in landscapes littered with clones.
While I may be a fan of his work and what he brings to cinema, I cannot help but sit back sometimes and wonder what the inside of Takashi Miike’s head must be like. I feel like if you popped it open, it would be like opening Pandora’s Box.