Tokyo Tribe

Tokyo Tribe

Cop these slammin' beats from the ass-end of hell.

A diarrhea spew of pop culture.

That is the only description appropriate for Tokyo Tribe, a film that eclipses Quentin Tarantino's remix mentality by injecting Harmony Korine's grime into the veins of the offspring birthed by The Warriors after it participated in an orgy with every hip hop music video of the last twenty years on top of a pile of manga, Yojimbo, Scarface, and Demolition Man DVDs, and production photos of the Korova Milk Bar scene from A Clockwork Orange. The whiplash of iconography, kinetic action, lyrics, and kaleidoscope of colors is so assaultive that, at one point, my body started to prickle and heat up like it would during a sugar rush.

Less confectionary was Sono Sion's indulgence in all of the tropes that accompany his pop culture sources. Hyperbolic to the point of satire, archetypes - like the bloated, lecherous gang boss or the horny Japanese school girl who can kick ass - are still archetypes. Even if Sono is intending this to be mockery or criticism through exaggeration, his camera and staging (especially when it comes to the nude bodies of his female stars) gobble these images up with abandon as they regurgitate them right back out.

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