‘Demon City’ Review
There is zero shortage on revenge films, with many circling the same tropes repeatedly. Someone great at killing people holsters his weapons to start a family and quickly finds himself thrust into a quest for vengeance. It’s the delusion of being able to pull back from a life of crime after dipping so much as a pinky into its murky waters that ultimately blindsides protagonists and makes for some entertaining genre fare if the motivation, storytelling, and execution are handled with care. Unfortunately, most films fall back into familiar motions and rely on feeding expectations instead of taking things to new heights. Writer-director Seiji Tanaka’s Demon City—an adaptation of Masamichi Kawabe’s manga Oni Goroshi—is one such example. A boilerplate revenge tale told between bursts of ultraviolence, Tanaka’s latest film sacrifices strong characters and nuanced storytelling for something unremarkably brutal.
Initially published in 2020, Kawabe’s manga is perhaps most notable for its over-the-top violence—an element that is faithfully brought to the screen in Tanaka’s adaptation and almost slavishly depended upon to elicit reactions from an audience. Demon City begins with a hitman, Shuhei Sakata (Tôma Ikuta), completing one last job before he retires to spend the rest of his life with his family. However, his plans are quickly thwarted when a gang of armed men wearing Noh theatre masks murder his wife and daughter in front of him, then kill him and frame the incident as a murder-suicide. Unfortunately for the gang, Sakata survives the shot and awakens twelve years later from a coma, only to begin his journey towards retribution. Now, thanks to the eradication of possible threats, the city of Shinjo is about to complete development on a resort and become a thriving part of Japan’s economy thanks to the leadership of Mayor Ryû Sunohara (Matsuya Onoe).
The most noticeable problem with Tanaka’s film is that it doesn’t ever try to be more than what is required to keep the action going. An overwhelming criminal presence serves as the lifeblood of Shinjo, a city plagued by disappearances, as it operates within the shadows unbeknownst to the public. There’s very little mystery involved in who is in charge of the cabal, but it takes no effort for Sakata to start identifying and picking off each member one by one. The screenplay is surprisingly pared down compared to its narrative scope, leaving an obvious impression that Demon City probably would have fared better in an episodic format than 106 minutes of predictable storytelling punctuated by geysers of blood. Each character is underwritten despite all pulling the same strings from different angles. Any characterization given to characters, such as Sunohara, is either unimaginative or a case of being too little, too late.
While revenge is a powerful motivator and may give a burst of adrenaline when needed, Demon City propels its protagonist from one villain to the next by referring to a local legend: a demon that appears in Shinjo City every 50 years and goes on a killing spree. The obsession with demonology is the only noticeable trait of Sunohara other than being power-hungry, but the legend itself is the only justification for Sakata’s onslaught never feeling like it might be at risk of failing. It makes for occasionally satisfying action as Sakata plows through enemies with a hefty blade in hand, rarely ever missing a step and moving between them with determination and speed. With occasional flashes of creative choreography, Demon City is usually at its best when taking advantage of the environment within its action beats and allowing for verticality to be integrated in seamlessly with the forward momentum.
While the action is occasionally impressive, it’s often hollow and muted thanks to the barebones screenplay. That’s where the violence comes into play and tries to overcompensate for a flimsy narrative. It’s also where the film’s manga roots are most noticeable as Tanaka’s visual direction takes a firmer hold on Demon City. Men in suits are wearing masks of various demons as they spray blood across concrete. They resort to close-quarters combat, where a gun can easily be knocked to the side in battle with a melee weapon. It’s the kind of aesthetic that has pervaded Japanese cinema for a while now, but Demon City is particularly brutal compared to most. And yet, it’s not very engaging because it’s gore without the support of a compelling character or motivation. Even when stretching beyond Japanese cinema, the manga’s clear inspiration from American action movies like John Wick brings in more familiar iconography to have a unique blend of styles, but without much reason to get excited. Ultimately, it’s just window dressing.
Designed around what is ostensibly a very cool aesthetic, Demon City had the potential to be far more sprawling in its narrative thanks to the many moving parts that need to work together for a city to be successfully run by criminals. However, the film becomes singularly focused on Sakata’s revenge, demonstrating what Tanaka found interesting about the source material: its violence. Yet, even then, there’s not enough creativity in the action, leaving a hollow dependence on violent spectacle. Ikuta is given very little to work with for his performance, and every other performance is comically villainous, that the movie just never settles down from its over-the-top bloodbath. The brief moments of creativity in its action satisfy that particular craving, but Demon City’s inability to be more than just a few clever beats leaves a serviceable film in its wake—brought down by a strangely thin narrative and disappointingly wasted potential.
