Gate of Flesh concerns a group of prostitutes who are, for all intents, making their last stand in a bombed-out abandoned building. They live (if you can call it that) by a simple code: Defend their territory, no pimps, and beat the shit out of any girl who gives it away for free. This creates a problem for Maya (Yumiko Nogawa), who falls in love with a murderer who joins their midst. Eventually they plan to escape together, but you can imagine this does not meet with the approval of the vixens who live beyond the gate of flesh.
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Youth of the Beast, like Suzuki's Branded to Kill and Tokyo Drifter, is first and foremost about its own extravagant style. When we talk about Suzuki, we don't talk about his plots; he tended to amp these up to the extent that Nikkatsu fired him in 1967 on the grounds that his films were "incomprehensible." And it's true that faced with the choice of making, say, a clear transition between scenes or a flashy one, Suzuki opted for flash every time. So it is that the plot logistics of Youth of the Beast require some attention. In a nutshell, a rogue bad guy named Jo (played by jowly Suzuki stalwart Jo Shishido) shows up on the streets of Tokyo following a double suicide involving a cop and a call girl. Two rival gangs vie for his loyalty, but Jo, it seems, is too ruthless to stay loyal for too long. Could Jo harbor deeper motives than cash and self-preservation? One wonders. Meanwhile crosses and double-crosses bloom like the bright red flowers that play into the plot (Suzuki shoots these flowers in color even in the film's black-and-white opening scenes), and the cast of underworld villains grows to include a junky whore, a sadist with infallible aim, the mysterious Mistress No. 6, armies of thugs, a quantity of policemen, and a gay pimp who should never, ever be left alone with a woman. It gets to where even M.C. Escher would struggle to correctly graph the plot.
Continue reading: Youth Of The Beast Review