the crimson kimono

Art always has an agenda, even if it's simply to entertain. But the films of Sam Fuller are a bit more transparent. 1959's The Crimson Kimono offers up a paper-thin detective story that disguises a melodramatic interracial love triangle that certainly wasn't business as usual for audiences at the time. But Fuller's film never sensationalizes. In fact, the real scandal behind Joe Kojaku, a Japanese cop, falling for a witness who happens to be white, is that he steals her away from his Caucasian partner, Det. Charlie Bancroft.

Investigating the case of a stripper shot dead on an L.A. street, Joe (James Shigeta) and Charlie (Glenn Corbett) follow a lead into the Japanese quarter of Los Angeles where they come upon a witness, Christine (Victoria Shaw), who draws a sketch of the suspected killer. But her skills as an artist soon put her in jeopardy and a failed attempt on her life forces Christine to move in with Joe and Charlie to their cozy apartment. A romantic tension quickly develops. Despite the social stigma, Joe and Christine feel a strong connection while Charlie is clueless about the whole affair, pursuing Christine with equal intensity.

Joe's guilt finally gets the better of him. After giving Charlie the cold shoulder, the two come to blows during a friendly Kendo exhibition that puts their relationship - both personal and professional - in doubt. But the case goes on, and both men must work together to solve a murder that seems like an afterthought compared to the mess their lives have become.

Fuller's intentions with The Crimson Kimono, while honorable, are just a little too obvious. As would later be the case with Sidney Poitier's character in Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?, Detective Joe Kojaku is the idealized minority: smart, sensitive, ambitious and loved by everyone around him. He's so perfectly boring that Christine's attraction seems almost forced by the motivations of the script. It's not until Joe shows some flaws that the film becomes interesting.

The Kendo scene is a focal point, as Joe unleashes his jealousy and self-loathing in a fury of body blows that destroys his wartime bond with Charlie forever. As Fuller makes clear, it's not about what Charlie sees; it's what Joe sees in himself. And that introspective approach to racism is what makes The Crimson Kimono so unique. But the talky, melodramatic approach isn't always a breeze to sit through. Fuller packs the script with tough talk and clever slang, shooting pages of dialogue in long, uncut takes that, despite a few visual flourishes, feel more like a cop show fit for the small screen than a wide one (not to mention some sloppy editing errors along the way). Connoisseurs of the director's particular personal obsessions with find a familiar theme and lots of colorful characters (Anna Lee makes for an engagingly wise, but perpetually drunk life-coach), but The Crimson Kimono often feel compelled to push an agenda rather than let the story find its own.

Twilight Time's 3000-copy limited edition Blu-ray comes with an isolated score track, trailers, liner notes and two worthwhile featurettes that explore Fuller's career. The first is a 30-minute retrospective entitled Sam Fuller: Storyteller, full of praise and interviews from folks like Martin Scorsese, Wim Wenders and the late Curtis Hanson. Then Hanson goes solo to discuss The Crimson Kimono specifically for another 10-minute breakdown of the film's themes and creative techniques. Visually, the transfer looks quite good despite a few optical effects that an inherent in the original production. No one's going to mistake this for a gorgeous studio production like The House of Bamboo (another Twilight Time release), but it's a great example of gritty black-and-white photography given new life in high definition.