What’s the most punk movie ever made? I have no idea how to quantify that, but 1982’s Burst City might be the movie with the most punks in it, which is close enough to earn the superlative. The final half-hour of Gakuryū Ishii’s microbudget sci-fi whatsit is absolutely flooded with punks — some playing themselves, some playing businessmen, some playing futuristic super-cops. The lead-up to that concluding spectacle has no discernible narrative structure to it, but the climax plays like a large-scale battlefield sequence from a studio-produced war epic with hundreds of costumed extras. Only, in this case, everyone onscreen is from the same underground 80s Japanese punk scene, including the underpaid and overworked weirdos operating the super-8mm cameras in that subculture warzone. The never-ending sequence feels genuinely dangerous, to the point where it’s a miracle there are no reports that any extras died on set. It’s just an endless stream of Japanese punk rockers belligerently screaming and throwing their bodies at each other while explosions go off in the background and the band plays on & on like a buzzsaw with a taped-down trigger.
There aren’t multiple plot threads in Burst City so much as there are multiple character factions. The bulk of the cast is made up of leather-jacketed punks who play constant D.I.Y. shows at a warehouse venue called Live Spot 20000V (a name echoed by Ishii’s later title Electric Dragon 80000V). They actively resist taking on real work with local real estate developers or yakuza gangsters, declaring, “We’re too artistic to work for the likes of you!” Those corrupt, suited men do occasionally employ a few of the punk scenesters in BDSM sex work, though, even while forming “anti-punk resistance groups” that aim to eradicate them entirely. Meanwhile, roving gangs of post-apocalyptic Mad Max warriors seek refuge throughout a labyrinthian industrial wasteland, with the most clearly characterized duo among them seeking revenge for a slain brother. Politically, there’s a wide range of big-picture turmoil that Burst City‘s infinite cast of punk wastoids are rebelling against, most specifically in the threat that their home-turf music venue will soon be replaced by a nuclear power plant for capitalistic profits. For the most part, however, they seemingly just want to rock out, and they’re willing to crack a few hundred skulls as long as it keeps the amps plugged in.
In cyberpunk terms, Burst City offers half the cyber and twice the punk. It’s the kind of low budget, high style sci-fi that feels less imaginative of a possible future than it is documentary of its own contemporary arts scene. There is no plot development or dialogue exchange that’s given a fraction of the attention afforded its live performances from contemporary bands with names like The Rockers and The Battle Rockers. Before the production breaks down into full punks-vs-cops warfare, its clearest narrative progression is in a scene where a hardcore band rushes the stage, steals the equipment, and takes over the set from a first-wave punk act, demonstrating the early-80s aesthetic shift of punk rock music in real time. A lot of loving attention to detail is also paid to the crowd watching these bands from the pit, with the 8mm cameras on constant fashion watch as extras primp, smoke, and pose for their unseen audience. Ishii had originally planned to tell a much more traditional story in Burst City before the money ran out and he had to pivot from the original script to a much looser collection of narrative scraps, stitched together in hyperactive music-video collage. The result is not style over substance so much that its style is its substance, especially as a documentary glimpse of a regional punk scene being recorded the way it wanted to be seen — cool as fuck, stylish as hell.
Burst City‘s climactic punk warfare sequence is legendarily abrasive. As if the constant roar of electric guitars, motorcycle engines, and screaming leather freaks wasn’t already loud enough, the crowd starts setting off fireworks to invite in some extra noise, and the cops, in turn, start blowing the place up. It’s all belligerent, incoherent youth-culture rage, with more intent communicated by characters’ pained writing & screaming in the dirt than any written line of dialogue. Ishii & crew can hardly keep up with the chaos themselves, switching formats from color to black & white film stock to CCTV video feeds at a dizzying pace. At two full hours, its youth-culture belligerence is admittedly exhausting, but its concluding spectacle is still undeniably impressive on a technical level and undeniably punk.
-Brandon Ledet
