Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 47 The Violent Finale

In mid-November, in an abandoned cold storage warehouse on the shore of Tokyo Bay.

This is the filming location for the final scene of "Violent Man".

The huge roller shutter door was half open, and the grayish-white sunlight shone in like the face of a dead man, illuminating the mess on the ground.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, the sweet and pungent smell of blood, and the musty odor unique to abandoned buildings.

"Clear the area. Everyone except those taking photos and recording audio should step back behind the lines."

Takeshi Kitano's voice came through the loudspeaker, but it was impossible to discern any emotion in it.

By this time, he had already completed the "dead man makeup" that was covered in blood.

According to the script—or rather, according to Takeshi Kitano's ever-changing ideas—the violent detective "Watashi," the protagonist, had just executed the psychopathic killer here, and died together with him.

Now, only one survivor remains at the scene.

That's Kitahara Shin's partner—"Kikuchi".

"Hey, Kitahara."

Takeshi Kitano lay in a pool of blood (he didn't even use a stunt double to find the right camera angle), slightly raising his head, a playful smile on his twitching face. "This scene didn't have a script. I originally wanted you to cry or shout a couple of times, but I thought that would be too cliché."

He pointed to the corpses around him.

"You're someone who always walks in the dark. Now your partner is dead, the bad guys are dead, the whole world is quiet. You walk in, look at me, and then... give me a reaction."

"What was the reaction?" Kitahara Shin asked.

"I don't know, ask yourself." Takeshi Kitano lay back down, closed his eyes, and said, "Let's begin. Let the demon inside you take one last spin."

A deathly silence fell over the scene.

The only sound was the slight "rustling" of the camera film turning.

Kitahara Shin stood in the huge shadow of the warehouse.

He wore the dark blue trench coat that appeared throughout the film, with his hands in his pockets.

The worn-out journal of a retired criminal investigator is radiating its last warmth.

But this time, the "emptiness" that could devour people's hearts did not frighten him.

After hearing Sachiko's singing yesterday, he learned how to control the balance between his on-screen and off-screen personas.

He now knows what a play is and what life is.

Since it's a play, let it end in the most absurd way.

"Action".

Kitahara Shin stepped into the pale light.

The leather shoes made a "splat, splat" sound as they stepped on the sticky ground (which was blood), and there was no other background music.

He walked very slowly, like a salaried worker who had just finished get off work and was passing by a car accident scene.

He stepped over the villain's corpse without even glancing down.

Then, he stopped in front of the body of "Watana" (Takeshi Kitano).

The camera slowly zoomed in, giving him a medium shot.

According to the traditional formula of police and gangster movies, at this point he should kneel down, shake his partner's shoulders, or look up to the sky and roar, denouncing the injustice of fate.

But Kitahara Shin did nothing.

He simply stood there quietly, looking down at the "corpse".

His eyes were empty.

It's like looking at a bag of trash discarded on the roadside, or a broken-down machine that has finally stopped working.

There was no sadness. No anger. Not even pity.

Is this the end?

Is this what happens after a violent frenzy?

This is... utterly boring.

After a deathly silence that lasted for ten seconds.

Kitahara Shin slowly reached his right hand into his pocket and pulled out the silver Zippo (the one Akina left behind) and a box of cigarettes that had been flattened.

"Click".

The crisp sound of the ignition seemed particularly jarring in the empty warehouse.

The flame flickered. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

The smoke swirled in his lungs before he slowly exhaled.

Blue smoke swirled and rose in the grayish-white light, blurring his indifferent face.

Just when everyone thought the scene was going to end with this evocative image.

"cough."

Kitahara Shin suddenly frowned and let out a short, dry cough.

"Cough cough."

It seemed he had inhaled the smoke too quickly, choking on his throat. Or perhaps the air here was too polluted, making him feel uncomfortable.

He waved his hand with some annoyance, dispelling the smoke in front of him, and then, as if nothing had happened, turned around and strode out of the warehouse.

That cough.

There was no acting embellishment whatsoever; it was purely a physiological reaction.

But in an instant, it pushed the absurd feeling of "when a person dies, it's like a lamp going out, but the living still have to keep breathing exhaust fumes" to its extreme.

Life is so cheap, not even worth a puff of choking smoke.

Until Kitahara Shin's figure completely disappeared outside the roller shutter door.

The camera then stopped rotating.

"...Cut!!"

Takeshi Kitano suddenly sat up from the pool of blood.

He didn't bother wiping the blood off his face; his eyes were frighteningly bright.

The scene was silent for a full half minute.

Then, thunderous applause erupted.

Several emotional stagehands were even wiping away tears—not because they were moved, but because of the chilling and shocking feeling that emanated from their very bones.

"That cough..." cinematographer Katsumi Yanagishima murmured to himself while wiping away sweat, "A stroke of genius! In that moment, the film gained its soul."

Kitahara Shin walked back from outside the door.

He seemed to have detached himself from the role; the suffocating stillness from before was fading, and he was back to being the polite young actor.

"Are you alright?" He walked over, wanting to help Takeshi Kitano up.

"Don't touch me, I'm covered in blood."

Takeshi Kitano propped himself up and stood up. He looked at Shin Kitahara and suddenly grinned, revealing a rare smile that was not mocking.

"Did you stage that cough?"

"No," Kitahara Shin shook his head, "I really choked on it; there's just too much dust here."

"Ouch! I really choked..."

Takeshi Kitano laughed even louder, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "That's a perfect 'really choked' moment! That's more like it! That's the real feeling I wanted!"

He stretched out his hand, stained with fake blood, and patted Kitahara Shin's shoulder hard, leaving a bright red handprint on his dark blue trench coat.

"Kid, that's a wrap."

Takeshi Kitano stared into his eyes. "If this movie wins an award, that cough is worth at least half of it."

"Next film."

Takeshi Kitano pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to Shin Kitahara. "I'll be looking for you again, but next time don't play a cop. Let's play something weirder."

Kitahara Shin took the cigarette, took out his Zippo lighter, and lit it for Kitano Takeshi.

"It is my honor, Kitano-san."

The wind blew in from outside the warehouse, dispersing the smell of blood.

Autumn of 1989 was coming to an end...

The peak of the bubble was just around the corner, and Kitahara Shin knew he was ready to face that era of collapse...