Cure (1997)
Storytelling is a powerful tool that can give the audience an opportunity to experience something we have not ourselves experienced, it can change how we look at the world, and it can at times even hypnotize us. Cure(1997), the film directed by Japanese director Kiyoshi Kurosawa, excels at doing exactly that. The story follows Detective Kenichi Takabe (Koji Yakusho) on his hunt to solve several brutal killings that are at once completely unrelated and yet eerily similar. Takabe works with psychologist Makoto Sakuma (Tsuyoshi Ujiki) to try and understand how the killings are connected as the body count continues to rise. Simultaneously, we are introduced to the mysterious Mamiya (Masato Hagiwara). A man with no memory but an increasingly clear connection to these gruesome murders.
What I loved most about Cure is how simple it is on its face. It feels like any other 90’s crime thriller with a cop who won’t stop, and a villain with a strange twist. In an interview, found on the new Criterion release of the film, Kurosawa opens up about his interest in crafting a story that exploited the simple construction of the detective genre and infusing it with horror in a way that he hoped would truly terrify his audience. Inspired in part by Silence of the Lambs, Kurosawa was interested in exploring what happens after the villain is caught. What it feels like being on the other side of the glass from the most dangerous person in the room, and what kind of power they might have over you?
It’s for that very reason that the character of Mamiya ends up being such a wonderful villain for the film. His power seems to be in the way he can influence people. Kurosawa smartly holds back from revealing the entirety of Mamiya’s hypnotic process all at once. Instead, the film slowly reveals each step in his technique with each new victim he encounters. As if each crime we witness provides some new insight, in the same way each new crime scene further informs Detective Takabe’s own quest. In this way, by the time Mamiya is caught, the audience not only understands what Mamiya can do, but exactly how it does it. The muffled voice, the disorienting cloud of confusing and personal questions, the lighter he uses like a hypnotist’s pocket watch- we understand it all. So, when he and Takabe are finally in the same room, we watch closely as Mamiya uses the same techniques, looking for any signs of their effect.
Late in the detective’s investigation, it’s revealed that Mamiya, prior to his crime spree, had been a psychology student studying, among other things, hypnotism. It’s not a shocking revelation by this point, as the film does a great job of laying the groundwork for such an idea. But, what it does provide is a concrete explanation for the things he’s managed to get his victims to do. It should leave the viewer with little doubt about what’s transpired. And yet, Kurosawa smartly laces the film with a number of small moments that when looked from another angle puts all of that into question. Is what he can do something that can be explained naturally, or is it something otherworldly? These questions go beyond understanding his ability to influence others, but open up the idea of his compliance in his actions all together. On one hand you could argue that his aloof and detached behavior is put on as a trick, that his actions are more calculated. On the other hand, there is an argument to be made that Mamiya himself is another victim, the pawn of something more sinister that’s been going on for decades.
It’s in this fog of what’s real and what’s not that Cure really shines. Kurosawa has crafted a film that does to its viewers what it’s villain does to his victims. He intentionally uses a number of visual and audio techniques throughout the film to create a subtle feeling of being hypnotized. Boats rocking slowly in the background, street lights flickering in the rain, the sounds of a clothes dryer spinning incessantly. Many times we are left watching Takabe staring blankly into the void as both he and the audience struggle to grapple with what the reality of the situation really is. Even the film’s iconic final shot will leave you scrambling for the remote, “Did I just see what I think I just saw? And if I did, does it mean what I think it means?” And yet, somewhere deep inside, you know. You know exactly what that final two seconds means. Kurosawa has been preparing you for this exact moment the entire film. The moment where you realize everything you think you know is once again completely in question.
