A Snake Of June

It won't stop raining. No wonder everyone behaves in an odd manner. The colour is not exactly monochrome, more ice blue. The intensity squeezes air out of the cinema. Careful you don't choke to death. Let's call it Japanese Experimental, with a touch of Sado Erotica. The plot has a false bottom. You think it's over, but it's only just begun. You think it's a thriller, but it's not exciting. You wonder why the girl Kinko (Asuka Kurosawa) is married to that small fat bald man who prefers to sleep in a chair. You wonder a lot of things, like why this was made. Aural voyeurism is a sexy idea for guys who don't get out much. Here's what you do. Keep calling the girl, tell her you have something of hers - in this case, a bag of photographs - and won't give them back unless she does what you say. She asks, "What?", in a voice that suggests arousal. You tell her to wear a skimpy mini skirt, with high heels, take off her knickers and walk through a department store to buy a vibrator, while retaining contact through a mobile phone on a hands-off ear piece so that you can hear her breathing and give further instructions. Writer/director/actor Shinya Tsukamoto creates a featureless world of narrow toilet cubicles and rooms that are bare of art. Sound of rain batters the windows. Kinko masturbates to order. There is something liberating about it, as well as agonising. The stalker, the voice on the line, is dying of cancer. That's a crippler, because it makes you want to feel sorry for him, when, in fact, he's a sicko. The hand-held camera does wobblies, implying that this is more natural than a studio full of technicians. It makes you feel queasy, like when the rear wheel falls off at 75mph down a country road. What you remember is the blurred face of Kinko in orgasm. And you never forget the rain.