Seijun Suzuki is a filmmaker whose work has always impressed and terrified me in equal measure – while his methods as a director seem perfectly-calibrated to the abstract approach that has become acceptable in the Japanese film industry in the past few decades, looking at his work from the perspective of the time in which they were made demonstrates how he was nothing short of a visionary in his own right, albeit one who had just as many hits as he did misses. I’ve gradually been working my way through his work, looking at a blend of his canonical films, as well as those that are perhaps lesser-known and could do with more attention. Teenage Yakuza (Japanese: ハイティーンやくざ) is certainly a film that belongs in the latter category, especially since this was a film the occurred at an interesting time in the director’s career – too early for him to benefit from being christened as something of a cinematic revolutionary, but far too interesting to ignore. The story of a young man in urban Tokyo becoming a vigilante against the small but powerful yakuza thugs that terrorize his community is one that is profoundly compelling, if not extremely offbeat, even for a director who was standing on the precipice of a career that would span decades and challenge the very socio-cultural fabric of the film industry he was actively looking to subvert through his work. Teenage Yakuza is a film that may not always work as well as it should – it has bold ambitions but limits itself far too often to be a masterpiece. However, there’s a certain quaint elegance that comes with this film, a sardonic sense of humour that propels it forward and makes it something quite special, even if it is relatively minor for the director’s long and illustrious career.

In looking at Teenage Yakuza, its perhaps easier to understand why its such an interesting work if we go beyond the story – which is relatively simple and unremarkable – and understand exactly what it represents, stylistically at least. Suzuki’s career was defined by a distinct visual style – many of his most notable works would see the director experimenting with form in a way that sometimes obscured the fact that he could craft absolutely incredible stories. Teenage Yakuza is a film that carries more weight as a forerunner to what the director would go on to do in the next few years, with traits of Youth of the Beast (arguably one of his masterpieces, a dazzling and rivetting yakuza-based crime epic that is as stunning as it is brilliantly subversive), acting as something of a dress rehearsal for some of his most significant directorial efforts that were to come. However, we can’t quite strip the present film of all merit as a piece on its own – even if it essentially saw the director sitting in a creative sandbox while developing some promising ideas, it still stands as an enthralling piece that blends genre and evokes a kind of comical enthusiasm that sees Suzuki working from the perspective of a serious yakuza drama by way of the libertine methods of the west, and the slapstick comedies that essentially set the foundation for a lot of his most significant works. A chance for Suzuki to make something purely funny without the threat of losing his way, since there isn’t much to go by in Teenage Yakuza, which sounds like a shortcoming, but is actually one of the factors that help it succeed the most.

The early years of Suzuki’s career are profoundly fascinating, both for newcomers (who may be bewildered by his approach at first, but will very quickly become acclimated, since he presents such a hypnotic vision of the world, it’s difficult to not be entirely mesmerized) and those more well-versed in his work, since many of his later qualities can be seen here, while not being too saturated to the point where we start to believe this film is bursting with ambition that never finds its way to manifesting in a meaningful way. Taking his cue from both the social milieu of his home country at the time, and the encroaching influence of western culture at the time, the director constructs an enthralling story of teenage angst in a time of uncertainty, borrowing from the lineage of both exuberant comedies, family-based drama and action-packed crime thrillers to investigate deep social issues, but without becoming too overwrought about the message at hand. We aren’t ever quite sure about where Teenage Yakuza is heading, nor do we actually need to know – there really isn’t much of a discernible story here (although it is one of his more plot-driven films, at least in terms of how the story progresses), but rather a compelling portrayal of 1960s existence, with the loud music, ostentatious fashion and shifting mentalities being a major factor in how Suzuki looks into this period and provides context into a society that was still very much in flux.

These existential ponderings and their relationship with the self and society as a whole is mostly seen in the style employed by the filmmaker through the process of putting this film together. Teenage Yakuza inarguably doesn’t have much of a plot in the traditional sense and functions better as a series of moments, an extended snapshot of working-class life at a particular temporal moment, carefully-curated by a director whose gifts for simple but effective descriptions of reality was extremely present here. Supplementing his charming comedy about social graces is a poignant exploration of identity, with the main character’s journey from aimless young man to respected vigilante being bold and entertaining, but never unrealistic. Teenage Yakuza is Suzuki working from a place of genuine compassion – the nihilism of his later work was absent here, and while we can argue the director’s disdain for normality was a prominent factor in his success, it’s tough to look at the beautiful final moments of Teenage Yakuza and not feel like there was something there of genuine value. It doesn’t always strike you as a work actively attempting to be meaningful – you’d be forgiven for thinking that Suzuki was just having some fun with this film, and while that may be true to an extent, the melancholy underpinning this film is quite significant and lends credence to the idea that the impetus for this film wasn’t simply a quirky crime tale of a young high school student thinking he could take on the entire yakuza on his own, but something much deeper and far more interesting than this very flimsy but highly entertaining premise would suggest based on the general appearance of the film.

Teenage Yakuza is quite an admirable film, even if it is far from a major work – like with all of Suzuki’s films, it requires some patience and perseverance, as the director is traversing tricky narrative territory that doesn’t seem to amount to much at first, but has a cumulative power that really strikes you right at the end, where the simmering emotions – both positive and negative – finally manifest in quite an unexpectedly charming way. Teenage Yakuza is not a film that really stands out as much more than a novelty in the career of a director who would go on to become an essential voice in alternative Japanese cinema, but even in such an early work, he explored some of his artistic curiosities in a fantastic way – visually stunning, the images of Teenage Yakuza play as much a part in telling the story as the plot, and the music (which is a wonderful combination of Japanese pop and American surf rock) is imperative in setting the mood and establishing a tone that would persist throughout the film. It is a brisk work, running at only 70 minutes, so its very digestible, even for those more cynical to the absurd charms of a film like this, and serves to be a great work that will appeal to newcomers and devotees in equal measure, albeit for different reasons. Funny, action-packed and unforgettable, Teenage Yakuza is a very special film, and well worth seeking out for those looking for something slightly different than what we normally see produced from this era of Japanese filmmaking.