‘Vintage Violence’ Review: Eugene Kotlyarenko’s Crime Comedy

In genre movies, streamers have become the new frat boys — characters so obnoxious, the audience can’t wait to watch them die. “Vintage Violence,” the latest genre-bending exercise in gonzo violence from Ukrainian-American provocateur Eugene Kotlyarenko (“The Code,” “Spree”), revels in this spiteful sensation: The movie opens with a vertical video (also always annoying) of an “Urbex” (urban exploring) influencer breaking into an abandoned house somewhere in the American desert, poking at moldy leftovers and barging into rooms covered in inches-thick layers of dust.

Through context clues provided by snarky commenters, we learn that Carter (Cole Sprouse) was recently released from prison, where he was serving time on charges related to the accidental death of his former co-host. Then he discovers a wooden crate filled with multiple pairs of untouched Levi’s from the 19th century, prompting Izumi (Kiko Mizuhara), who’s been watching the livestream half a world away in Tokyo, to buy some tokens and send Carter an audio note: “Come to Japan!!”

Mahershala Ali in Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother

Vintage denim is worth more than its weight in gold in Tokyo, which Izumi knows because she runs with the kinds of shady characters who have the cash to drop millions of yen (one pair is valued at $250,000 USD) on dusty old jeans. And, as one might expect from a bar hostess with a deadbeat boyfriend who she’s saved from death-by-creditor multiple times, Izumi needs money. So she convinces Carter to fly to Tokyo with nothing more than a duffle bag full of jeans, promising him that he’ll be able to buy a new wardrobe with the profits from their sale. And if he falls a little bit in love with her as they text and FaceTime? That’s even better.

Izumi is also a little sweet on Carter, however — at least, that’s the best way to explain the frustrating (and narratively convenient) decisions she makes in this film. One of the biggest of these leads to Carter face-down on the sidewalk and that all-important duffle bag going missing at the beginning of the second act. From there, the plot splits into multiple storylines, jumping around in time and space as it introduces the underworld figures that will drive the remainder of the go-for-broke plot. Each of these is more cartoonish than the last, and while none of the film’s characters are particularly sympathetic — which is really only an issue when it comes to the romance plot — all of them are entertaining.

Edoga (Hio Miyazawa) is the sophisticated-but-deadly big bad of the piece, a nepo-baby yakuza whose obsession with America reaches its ultimate expression in a traditional Japanese-style room whose floors and walls are completely lined with denim. Ko (the prolific Pierre Taki) is the wild card, a former member of Edoga’s father’s gang who’s never forgiven the kid for cutting off his middle finger instead of his pinky. So he’s outfitted himself with a metal prosthetic, topped with a tiny spray bottle that he uses to mist his enemies with a blend of fentanyl, ketamine, liquid methamphetamine, and — curiously — tirzepatide. Cool sunglasses and leather jacket aside, Ko isn’t interested in fashion. But he is interested in revenge, which puts him in the paths of both Izumi and Carter as they race to recover that million-dollar bag of cotton and deliver it to the psychopathic Edoga.

Some familiarity with Japan and the Japanese language enhances the movie’s humor: A bit where Carter keeps confusing the Japanese word “saiko” (meaning roughly “the best,” or, more colloquially, “totally awesome”) with the English “psycho” is made for Western viewers who can sound out a few words in katakana when they need to. Some of these jokes stretch a little too far — a film by an American making continual, winking gestures toward Japanese animosity towards foreigners feels a bit performative, for example — but there are so many of them that at least a few should land with each individual audience member.

Fans of Japanese genre cinema will also recognize the tropes on display here, which draw a little bit from the gritty gangster dramas of Kinji Fukasaku and a lot from the visual jazz of Seijun Suzuki and the gory maximalism of Takashi Miike and Ryuhei Kitamura. (A scene where Izumi’s idiot boyfriend gets blasted into pink goop has that early-’00s extreme Japanese je ne sais quois, as does a twisted entrapment scheme at a love hotel.) Kotlyarenko also makes evocative use of real-life locations, like the famous “jeans street” in Kojima, Okayama Prefecture. But his most clever gambit involves using Bluetooth earbuds as a tracking device on a crowded shopping street.

Technology is a major driving force of this film’s plot, as well as the foundation of its visual language. DP Sean Price Williams is best known for his 16mm work, but here the “Good Time” cinematographer plays with split-screen compositions that view the same events from multiple angles and in multiple formats at the same time. Combined with the ever-present din of pachinko parlors and long continuous tracking shots through the streets of Tokyo at night — not to mention the flashy editing, manic pacing, and wacky musical cues — the effect is so overstimulating that it’s easy to miss side gags like the embarrassing search history that pops up briefly when Carter encounters a mustachioed Trump stooge at the U.S. embassy.

As a result, the actual experience of watching “Vintage Violence” is like standing in the middle of Times Square (or the Shinjuku scramble crossing, to stay on brand) while chirpy J-pop music videos play at maximum volume on your phone. If that sounds like an instant headache, you should probably skip this movie. If you’re a digital native who’s used to that level of stimulation, or have been on SSRIs long enough that you can’t get too worked up about anything anymore (either will do), get ready for a fun, if slightly bewildering, new experience. Like realizing that a livestreamer is the most likable person in a movie, for example.