Takeshi Kitano is Azuma, a Japanese no-nonsense type of detective. His style is to doggedly track down criminals, confront and beat upon them until they break, then move onto the next suspect. His harsh methods are demonstrably successful at both catching villains and maintaining the tacit approval of Azuma's superiors; they understand, without condoning him, that Azuma gets results. Now writer Hisashi Nozawa ensures that we, the audience, don't lose faith in Azuma by making his victims a coterie of nasty, repulsive thugs; where he does slap ordinary people like deputy Kikuchi (Makoto Ashikawa) about, each blow administered is for the greater good. Besides which, these are the humorous scenes!
As Violent Cop evolves it becomes increasingly brutal, shockingly so at times. Azuma is investigating the dirty-needle strewn trail of crime-lord Nito (Ittoku Kishibe), suspecting that part of the foul stench emanates from his own headquarters. Along the way photographer Yasushi Sakakibara captures many shots of Azuma shambling down empty streets; moving from one situation to another, a metaphor for life. He seems to know that his destiny is inescapable, that all paths lead to vicious gay hitman Kiyohiro (Hakuryu). Azuma is in no hurry but neither will he give up. A gradual escalation from kicks and slaps, through knives and bats, to guns and bullets is merely part of the storm that must be weathered.
Another aspect of Azuma's character is that he doesn't speak his mind, other than to wryly make observations. This severe lack of dialogue ensures that Violent Cop's plot often remains indistinct, hazy beyond the wash of violence and silence. The lack of exposition isn't exactly a weakness but it isn't a strength either, just a low-key technique employed by Takeshi. We only come to understand that Azuma is extremely protective of sister Akari (Maiko Kawakami), murderously so, by his actions. We never determine whether Azuma is emotionally distant, but very loyal, or truly caring because we're never shown that part of his soul. It may be that Azuma's dead-eyed and weary because he's tired of existence or simply that nothing excites enough to light his wick. It's a shame that Violent Cop can't take us into Azuma's heart but that's nihilism for you.
The film, as directed by Takeshi and edited by Nobutake Kamiya, surely does impact extraordinarily though. The pace of Violent Cop is slow, creating a sense of calm and tranquillity; occasionally punctured, but then the ripples die away and normality returns. This is no artificial conceit, just an accurate reflection of reality, of how anger erupts and dissipates in seconds. You can freeze it with slow motion, as Takeshi does, but the moment still passes. More unsettling is the implicit suggestion that our world rests in equilibrium; a man like Azuma can wash crime's stain away for a while but it'll always come creeping back. That's the true horror of Violent Cop. Behind its formal beauty the film is a bleak vision of amoral, ineffective revenge.
It's interesting to speculate how Violent Cop might have turned out had not the original director Kinji Fukasaku pulled out. Would there remain the structured resonance of violence both begetting and taking life? Could the film still contain humour so bone-dry that it's no comedy? Perhaps we'd have learnt more about Azuma and his motivations? Oh well. For all of the promise that Takeshi demonstrates, this is clearly a beginner's movie, vaguely unsatisfactory in its welding together of cinematic elements. The unethical outlook shocks and the sense of emptiness attracts, but Violent Cop is missing something, perhaps a sense of warmth. Nowhere is the slightest flame discernible, giving the movie the chill, exhilarating thrill of a deep-winter freeze.