The Threat
A kidnapping / home invasion thriller from director Kinji Fukasaku, The Threat (1966) isn’t a film that deserves to be singled out in a career that produced more than 70 features. But neither is it a work that deserves to be ignored. Rather it’s a Japanized take on a typically Western genre that included The Desperate Hours and Cry Terror! where masculinity is cruelly redefined for the modern man who has become too domesticated to defend himself and his family.
Misawa (Rentaro Mikuni) is a typical salaryman who’s only real physical struggle is climbing the corporate ladder. So, when a pair of inmates break into his home carrying a baby and force him to participate in collecting the ransom, he takes the easy way out and cooperates. Frustrated by his wife and embarrassed in front of his son, Misawa is pushed to the limits of shame, dishonor and cowardice. But a crisis of conscience eventually brings out the courage even his time as a soldier couldn’t inspire.
The Threat is narratively predictable, only rising to the occasion every so often by not shying away from the physical and emotional brutality on display. While it’s obvious that Misawa will get around to growing a backbone, Fukasaku’s film nearly pushes him past the point of redemption, beating his wife after he suspects she’s been raped and then raping her himself out of some misplaced sense of revenge. It’s uncomfortable stuff. And Fukasaku’s handheld camera work makes it even more disturbing, refusing to stage scenes with the usual cinematic gloss that keeps reality at a distance.
While it’s certainly a commentary on the salaryman lifestyle, The Threat (and the implication made by its title) is more all-encompassing than that. In a cinematic universe dominated by men, the sublimation of fathers, husbands, sons and manhood in general will always be a popular topic of conversation. And Fukasaku’s film is, at its heart, simply providing positive reinforcement; reassuring everyone with an XY chromosome that they’ll rise to the occasion. But, no matter which side of the gender line you fall on, those final 20 minutes are still awfully satisfying.
Arrow Video presents the film for the very first time outside of Japan in a new HD transfer that also includes a commentary by Japanese film expert Tom Mes and an (unfortunately unfocused) 20-minute appreciation by Mark Schilling plus image gallery and trailer. Also included but not available for review is an illustrated collectors’ booklet and double-sided foldout poster.
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