Fear and hatred in Tokyo Tokyo is agitated by numerous brutal killings of women. An anonymous villain invades the information space of local television, reporting details of the next murder. While the clumsy profilers of the special services are trampling around the technical details of the crimes and psychology of the maniac, the next victim is Mariko, whose severed hand is found in the park. The criminal does not leave Mariko’s family alone, getting in touch with her grandfather Yoshio, a former military officer. It seems that only a ridiculous accident or voluntary repentance of the guilty will help the metropolis to get rid of this nightmare.
Yoshimitsu Morita, whose filmography during his lifetime was far from festival trends, always gravitated to the mainstream of experimental scope. Changing genres and trends like gloves director from other colleagues was distinguished by a design approach to the organization of cinema, understandable not to everyone. “The Imitator”, the literal name of which can be translated as “Semimitation”, grows from the well-known traditions of American thrillers. At the same time, the inevitable explanation of what is happening in such cases from the standpoint of objective truth in Morita turned out not to be superficial, but in Japanese multilateral, in the traditions of Akutagawa with his Rashomon. In other words, for Morita, it makes sense not so much to search for a criminal or criminals, but to search for the meaning of events, allowing you to distract yourself from the idea that it is very difficult to do this under the conditions set by him.
This is partly due to the peculiarities of life in Japan. People here too tend to fear, and not only other people’s enemies, but also their own. My point is that the war of loners against the system, which broke out with bloody lightning over Europe this summer, has no clear signs. In Japan, as elsewhere, there are those “wolves of terror” who have their own goals and means to achieve them. According to Morita, this is not even a maniac and not some freak, drowning out his fear and hatred with alcohol or acid, like the heroes of Terry Gilliam, but representatives of a special ontology of people, skillfully combining ice dispassion and an ardent desire to improve the world. It is so hot that fire is inevitable in any case, and the number of victims is only a quantitative measure. The world around is full of lies, imitation and doubts, so it is much easier to bring misfortune to people than it seems at first glance. If desired, you can get a reliable ally, especially if they will be some naive simpleton, on whose mustache it is easy to wind his own snot and bring it under the high bar of morality. But all this is no longer a novelty, but rather the inexhaustibility of existence. Although, Morita's film contains far from the worst version of her dissection.
The “imitator” and all that is in it can not be accepted, paying tribute only to the ability of Yoshimitsu Morita to carefully study any aspect of the social theme, bringing it to an almost absurd state. The significance of his film is unlikely to change, but it will certainly acquire even more specificity and one day, perhaps, will cease to be considered mainstream. Which, in any case, would be fair enough.