Troubled but inspirational comedian Lenny Bruce wrote this B-movie in 1953 and stars in it with his real-life wife Honey Harlow. The cast of this film warrant their own interesting bios here, but you can dig around for yourself. The movie is not a masterpiece, but it gives a taste of the seedy nightlife of post-war America.
This macabre French-Italian film is one of my favorites because not only is the story fascinatingly awful, but the cinematography is breathtaking. I once saw a tap dance musical in Chicago based on this story which was, well, interesting, not great, but I had to give them kudos for trying. This film was met with praise and disgust when it premiered in 1960, which only gives it more value in my eyes, as I feel art in any form needs to move you in some way, even if it’s negative. It is an interesting story about ego, vanity, isolation, the helplessness of sentient beings, and obsession. The crushing vanities of the bourgeoisie?
Kabukichō is the red light district in Shinjuku, a commercial and administrative ward in central Tokyo. Apparently Kabukichō took its name from plans to build a kabuki theater in the district sometime in 1940s. This never happened. Instead the area became a busy red light world of nightclubs, hostess clubs and love hotels. It’s estimated there are some 3,000 such enterprises operating in Kabukichō today. At night, the busy neon-lit streets thrive with the curious and the criminal—around a thousand yakuza are said to operate in the area. All this relentless activity gave Kabukichō its nickname as the “Sleepless Town” (眠らない街).
Among the curious drawn to Kabukichō was photographer Watanabe Katsumi (1941-2006). During the 1960s and 1970s, this seemingly quiet and unassuming character prowled the streets camera in hand offering to take pictures of the sharp-suited yakuza, the pimps, the prostitutes and the drag queens who lived and worked in and among this red light district’s narrow streets. Watanabe thought of Kabukichō as his theater and the men and women who posed for him as his actors.
He approached each of his subjects and offered to take their picture. He took the pictures quickly. But whatever he said to make each individual sufficiently relaxed worked. His photographs captured something unguarded and utterly spontaneous about his subjects. The next night he would return, deliver three prints of each photograph for 200 yen—roughly around a dollar back then. This was how he made his living.