A bizarre, stylized trip into the mind of a serial killer and the psychic investigator desperate to find him, Angel Dust is that rare avis, a cat-and-mouse thriller that lives up to — and surpasses — expectations. The American serial-killer subgenre has been nearly run into the ground by shopworn clichés and ludicrous plot twists. In Angel Dust, however, Japanese director Sogo Ishii (The Crazy Family) keeps things moving at a relentless pace, and not only in terms of his storyline. A former music video director, his crazed, shock-cut editing, surreal cinematography, and bombastic use of high-decibel industrial music at the oddest moments create an infectious new twist on an old story. It’s as if a disgruntled grip had slipped Italian director Dario Argento an angel dust mickey and turned him loose to run riot in neo-Tokyo: The film is awash in bright, primary colors; dazzling, multi-hued raindrops fall constantly; and unknown assailants with eerie mechanical killing devices stalk gorgeous young women who have no hope of escape, even in the crowded subways. Minami plays Setsuko Suma, a consulting police psychiatrist who is called in to assist in uncovering the identity of a madman who is slaughtering women in the rush-hour subways. The killer uses a poison needle to put down his victims, and Setsuko, who is also prone to psychic visions, at first suspects her former lover and medical partner Rei Aku (Wakamatsu), an imposing figure who now works as a cult deprogrammer and has a penchant for evil leers and cocked eyebrows. While Aku attempts to jump-start his old flame, Setsuko continues her exhaustive search, alternating facial expressions between pensive reflection and doe-in-the-headlamps-horror, and her husband, the quiet, gentle Tomoo (Toyokawa) ponders the meaning of things and tries to maintain an aura of inscrutability. Or so it would appear. There are a few weak moments in Ishii’s film, most of which crop up while Setsuko is lounging around in her maddeningly over-decorated apartment, but they’re like little blips of flatline on an otherwise hysterical EEG. Angel Dust relies heavily on director Ishii’s wild eye — the film is rife with super-saturated shots and Japanese pop-culture references, but Ishii never allows it to become off-putting, or at least not to the point of distraction. Instead, Angel Dust acts as a whole: a psychotic, sensual nightmare where murder, romance, and manga intersect, and the resultant hybrid is visually and intellectually exhilarating.
This article appears in April 25 • 1997 (Cover).