Sure, these films may represent a triumph of style over substance, but my, oh my, what style! Interested in pulp movies? In bigger-than-life Japanese screen stars? In glorious neon-noir circa 1970? Well, these brand-new-to-DVD titles have it all…

If you’ve seen the classic revenge film Lady Snowblood, you may recognize not only the iconic Meiko Kaji, but even shades of her character in these Wandering Ginza Butterfly flicks, which were released a year or two earlier. As in the later film, these have “Tarantino-favorite” written all over them, although actually I don’t know if he’s really a fan of these previously hard-to-track-down titles. We get big, brassy musical scores, an assortment of both likable and very unlikable lowlifes, and a gleefully opportunistic approach to pop entertainment—there’s straight-ahead drama, raucous comedy, swordplay, crime-thriller elements and even an occasional nod at sleazy exploitation.

But holding everything together, and doing it magnificently, is Kaji. Playing a “wandering gambler” similar to Snowblood, here she’s far less austere in appearance and demeanor, and her personal warmth shines through in scene after scene. Even in WGB 2, in which she’s avenging her father’s death, she does not seem consumed by her mission. In WGB 1 she’s mostly modern, even ‘60s hip, in both manner and look, while in its sequel she dons a traditional kimono and demure posture while defending far more helpless women... and in the process creates an image of feminism-in-action that’s as memorable as it is ironic.   

In general, the second film, subtitled “She-Cat Gambler,” comes across as an amped up, yet somehow leaner version of the first. Both end in wonderfully staged fight scenes that see Kaji team up with her kind-of sidekick Ryuji, although in the second he’s played by none other than Sonny Chiba. (Stammering and occasionally goofy, he may be unrecognizable to some Chiba fans.
) In the first film, the protagonist is a pool hustler, and although I’m never a big fan of  green felt and cue sticks in movies—the editing cheats are obvious and the tempo usually decelerates—in this case the script does a nice job with fairly standard elements and even manages to offer up some surprises along the way. In the second, she’s a card player, which should give you a sense of the kind of minor variations that occur across both movies. And although I’m not one to fetishize physical beauty on the silver screen, it’s difficult not to comment on how striking Kaji is in these films as director Kazuhiko Yamaguchi uses her face, her towering frame, as signifiers in their own right. Whether she’s looming threateningly in a doorway or simply casting a sly smile at us, Kaji consistently provides potent images around which Yamaguchi builds compositions, even entire sequences, and he does so masterfully. (And of course it doesn’t hurt that the new transfers on display here are absolutely gorgeous.)



Still, fans of Kaji's more visceral films (such as those in Female Convict Scorpion series) might wish there was more wall-to-wall bloodletting on hand, but trust me, the climactic battle scenes that round out both films are well worth the wait. Others may find the pacing slow, and judge the storylines to be somewhat trite excuses upon which to hang half-hearted revenge scenarios. And yet while I can sympathize with such evaluations, I had no such problems with the narrative, viewing the plots as representing a kind of simplified drama in the Japanese stage tradition rather than the kind of outright melodrama that makes Western audiences cringe.

Finally, it almost goes without saying that the Synapse label has released these films with a thoughtful set of extras, such as expert commentaries and a new interview with Yamaguchi in addition to poster galleries and trailers. The idea is not simply to dump them on the market for those who have been hungering for them, but to present them in a way that makes them both friendly for the newcomer and treasure chests for the connoisseur. Frankly, I can’t wait to dive back into these again.