If nothing else, Fukasaku’s Black Lizard (originally released in Japan in 1968, but deemed too outrageous for American tastes at the time) is disarming in a vein similar to TV’s old Batman series. Both arrived in the late Sixties, replete with skewed camera angles and day-glo sets, action and high-camp galore. The only difference here is the fact that Black Lizard — loosely based on a stage play by the Japanese author/statesman Yukio Mishima — was never intended to come across as “camp.” It takes itself fairly seriously, despite all appearances to the contrary. Lizard‘s plot line begs, borrows, and steals from nearly every genre film that preceded it, but does so in a way that sets it apart from the countless late-Sixties James Bond/high-tech crime fiascos that flourished during that period. Akihiro Maruyama (a female impersonator, though you may never realize it) is the Black Lizard, a bizarre female jewel thief currently intent on obtaining the legendary “Star of Egypt” diamond. When the Lizard kidnaps the daughter of the gem’s owner, Akechi — “the greatest detective in all Japan” — is sent in to help crack the case. From here on in, things only get stranger, as the androgynous Black Lizard falls for Detective Akechi (Kimura), naturally causing the thief more than a little consternation (although the stoic Akechi just seems bored by it all). Ridiculous though it may sound, Black Lizard is actually far above the genre standard. From its delightfully wicked sense of the absurd, to director Fukasaku’s relentless pacing and pop-culture camerawork, Black Lizard rises above its (seemingly) inherent silliness and ends up as a genuinely entertaining bit of late-Sixties Japanese kitsch.
This article appears in February 21 • 1992 (Cover).