Seagulls fly towards an idyllic skyline. A man kills young woman and turns her into a never-aging murder doll. An Umetsu story through and through, Virgin Punk is drenched in a kind of violence that has become increasingly rare. There's a visceral quality to it; bloodstained streets full of dingy apartments full of bad intentions, surfacing in bursts that leave as many scars in the city as they do in its people.
Rather than focusing on speed and intensity of movement, the action's primary concern is with weight and density. Virgin Punk is as obsessed with the ways bodies break down as The Boy and the Heron is with the ways people walk. Every bullet impact, kick and limp fall to the ground is rendered in obscene detail and surrounded by a cascade of environmental effects--smoke puffs in three dimensions as thick blood flies around and the debris launch even more particles into the air, which would make things unreadable if not for a methodical storyboard that gives every action its own cut instead of weaving them into excessively complicated tracking shots. It's a natural continuation of the linear staging of the action in Kite and Mezzo. Momentum is left to the elegant timing of cuts within the sequence, so the focus can fall on concrete, individual images, highlighting the beautiful character designs and leaving space for the subtleties of their movement in relation to the world. Its physicality conjures up memories of the shootouts in Hard Boiled or the first F.E.A.R game, though unconstrained by the need to literally render space. Of course, there's the occasional strange animation timing and digital compositing decision, but they pale in comparison to the built-up sense of palpable danger in a world where anything can end in the blink of an eye.
The augmented girls' neon-bright hair and highly designed outfits, typical of Umetsu's work, are effectively the dark punchline to said world. Being able to gaze at them makes up for a good percentage of Virgin Punk's raison d'etre, so the fact that the movie successfully finds its emotional center in Ubu's quiet resistance is as impressive to me as it was in Kite, even if the latter was a tad more well-rounded.
If I were to complain about something, it'd be the low probability of a sequel ever coming out. I need to see Mr. Elegance eat lead and I don’t know if my wish will ever be granted. At the very least, it’ll take a few more years.
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