★★★½           By Z.P. Kibbleworth               August 12, 2089

There was a distinctly different air about the auditorium at the Toledo Paradise Cinema, where press screenings are held on Tuesdays at 11 am. As I settled into my familiar seat fourth from the left in the eighth row, I noticed that the usual cold stoicism of a critics’ screening was replaced with a mixture of annoyance and antsiness. Peers of mine who usually spend the few minutes before the start of the film dutifully locking their mind into a singular focus on the screen instead made small talk with each other, casting knowing glances that conveyed disbelief that attending this screening was a part of their job. On the one hand, it feels like an insult to work your way through school, get employed by respected media journalists, dedicate your life to watching and writing about films, and then have your boss order you to go and give them 750-1000 words on Syphilis Samurai. On the other hand, this screening provides an opportunity to give the first word on a film that for months has been derided, memed, and proclaimed a lock to sweep the Razzies. A sufficiently biting review will attract far more readers than usual and make for a cathartic writing experience. And so, in place of the studious quiet that normally accompanies the film, there was a relaxed aloofness that came with the knowledge that one didn’t have to think too hard about the film, but could instead go home, write a few wisecracks and get far more clicks than most of their reviews which required deep thought and reflection. Exiting the theater, a colleague came up to me mockingly exclaiming, “Well that was something!” I responded, “Yeah, it was actually pretty good.” He looked at me as though I was insane. You are probably reading this feeling the same way. I make no apology. I judge what I see on the screen, not what the narrative around a film requires it to be. And what I saw on the screen was a clever, tight, and above all entertaining movie.

Syphilis Samurai comes to us from The Nacho Collective, a small studio that for the past five years has scraped by making low-budget horror and action films which were profitable but gained minimal popular traction. Now, though, they’ve shifted their playbook by handing the reins to first-time director Miriam Mangofoot and putting money into a wider theatrical release and the marketing costs that come with it. If the aim was to turn heads, they’ve certainly accomplished that, as Syphilis Samurai has become something of a sensation. The number of jokes circulating around the internet in the form of, “What’s next, Gonorrhea Godzilla? Captain Chlamydia?” has frankly gotten quite annoying. The film itself is about exactly what the title suggests: a samurai wanders into Phoenix and begins spreading syphilis to the population. Police, biker gangs, and drag queens all try to stop him. Chaos ensues. This is a film that delivers exactly what it promises, and does so skillfully with no extra fat. Audience members who go in expecting anything else will be disappointed. Those who simply want to be entertained will find the film more than satisfies them.

The nameless samurai who gives the film its name is played by Hironobu Shibata, an actor who is best known in Japan for his regular guest appearances as Goro on the 2060s show The Sun Rises on the Melancholy Fishmonger, but has hardly been active in any well-known projects since then. His composed performance gives the film a solid center it can always lean on, ensuring it does not indulge in its inherent zaniness so much that it loses its sense of self. What is key is that even though the audience knows this film is ridiculous, and the film knows it is ridiculous, and Mr. Shibata undoubtedly knows the film is ridiculous, he does not play the samurai as though the character knows he is in a ridiculous film. Doing so would shatter the film’s illusion and invite the audience to disengage. Instead, Mr. Shibata fully commits to the role of tortured samurai, stalking around the streets of Phoenix with a predatory posture, slashing enemies and spreading syphilis with a feral efficiency, and wearing a scowl characteristic of Toshiro Mifune’s Sanjuro. This unflinchingly physical, primal performance does not make the film any less absurd, but it does lend it an internal consistency and believability.

For a first-time director with virtually no experience in the industry, Miriam Mangofoot exhibits considerable talent behind the camera. The film is dynamically edited, scenes flowing together with no sudden halts or jolts to the pacing that sever engagement from the film. The use of color and texture is effective as well, contrasting the samurai’s dark, rich, and smooth costume with the concrete wasteland of Phoenix. Most impressive in the film’s direction is its creative depictions of the samurai’s intercourse and killings, which often happen in direct succession, if not simultaneously. These scenes are shot with Spielbergian oners that move through several compositions without cutting or sacrificing clarity, but these oners are counterpointed by inserts of extreme close-ups and severe angles that give the scenes far more punch. One scene, in which the samurai fights his way through a disco bar while continuously having sex with two different rabbit people whose animal transmogrification implants are malfunctioning is both one of the most exciting and one of the most hilarious scenes of the year.

What I am not suggesting is that Syphilis Samurai is some secretly deep, groundbreaking cinematic triumph. There is hardly any real drama in the story, with the characters all being one-dimensional archetypes and not much in the way of theme. But that’s fine. This film makes no claim to depth or emotional resonance, and it doesn’t need to. What I am suggesting is that this film delivers exactly what it promises to and does so creatively, with a lot of artistic skill behind it. It would be easy for the film to coast on its simply being about a samurai who spreads syphilis, to consistently wink to the audience and say “Hey, this is pretty ridiculous, isn’t it?” Instead, Ms. Mangofoot and the other artists behind this film strove to make the best film about a samurai with syphilis they could. This film was made by a group of artists who chose not to do things the easy way, but the right way, the way that would give the audience the best experience possible. When a filmmaker does that and succeeds, then whether it’s a prestige drama about Earth’s first encounters with alien life on Europa or a silly movie where a samurai beheads a stoner behind a pigslop bakery for suggesting his kimono is fake Yowzi, it deserves recognition and respect.