“Hide the ideas, but so that people will find them. The most important will be the most hidden”
-Robert Bresson, Notes on the Cinematographer 
Everyone I know who owns a Roomba absolutely loves them.
“Roomba Cleans Routinely So You Don’t Have To”.
And that’s great. More importantly, one can claim they own a robot. Apparently they’re programmed with scientific diamonds that tell them exactly where to go, and if you’re nice, they’ll actually give you a high-five.
Folks like Ayn Rand and Ron Paul tend to believe that Capitalism is A.) a robot and B.) programmed with scientific diamonds, which demand participants to progress indefinitely and without end until death – moreover, no one needs to make any rules!
A Vicious Circle (dir. Charles Tashiro) whimsically tackles Capitalism, and not only addresses robots, but the violence (both mental and physical) that inherently accompanies an unfair economic system. This criticism lies within Tashiro’s signature style: distant, suggestive, and always challenging.
Past films by Tashiro often barrage the viewer with so many visuals and sounds that we’re forced to submit and simply let the experience wash over us. Post completion, we’re left to our own devices to explore the details of the film and decipher a deeper meaning. Tashiro’s mise-en-scene fills the screen with thematic information, glowing with color and intimacy. 1-2-3-4-5 actually breaks down each of the perceptive senses and translates them to the screen with a certain amount of success. In The Smell Of Gasoline, Tashiro recombines all these senses, resulting in an inundating and meditative car ride that commands his viewers to relax – while simultaneously seducing them to read deeper into it’s themes.
A Vicious Circle departs from these past films on a stylistic level. The visuals continue to stun and the sound remains complex, but that intimacy seems to evaporate. Although the film has a “plot”, it’s certainly not regarded with much importance, as the film jumps from scene to scene without letting the characters explain the scenario suitably. This creates a certain effect where we’re left to ask ourselves, “What were the characters talking about, exactly, and why?” To some extent, this allows the viewer to draw his or her own conclusions, but as this happens in every scene, we’re often left playing catch-up with the plot. These short scenes with abrupt cuts feel almost standoff-ish – like Tashiro is intentionally keeping us at arms length for reasons we’re not allowed to know.
That said, the only reason I think a narrative even exists in A Vicious Circle is to destroy it. The film almost laughs at itself at times. The Businessman, who commissions The Killer to do his dirty work, speaks almost exclusively in clichés. “The world is yours, if you have the balls to take it,” he says hinting at Scarface, followed by a whole string of laughable business lingo. Not only is the film mocking it’s own plot, it’s pointing to the downfalls of Capitalism, and also poking fun at Hollywood clichés. This, my friends, is economy of dialogue at it’s best.
The film is located in Big City, USA – never named but omnipresent. Tashiro often uses the city as a convenient segue between scenes, framing the killer walking through the night, or buildings against the sky. City lights float atop the thick, black night, crisp reflections highlight the films décor, and pale colored lights cast their mood across the cityscape. All of this is reminiscent of Alphaville – relying on the camera to create a futuristic feel, rather than changing the environment. When I asked Tashiro about this, though, he replied:
"The science fiction feel… came about almost by accident. Ironically, I think it results from my desire to create a vaguely period feel that evokes (without literally recreating) late 50s and early 60s LA. Since one of the popular styles of that period was a kind of comic book Futurism (what I refer to as "Jetson Moderne," but which is also known as "Populuxe") that "science fiction" feel comes through."
So the sci-fi feel is, strangely, based in the past. This may be a sort of unintentional oxymoron Tashiro created, which only expands the theoretical swimming pool that the viewer can dive into. At the same time, this idea forms the foundation of Tashiro’s seductive and original images, blending the past, present, and future into the timeless.
To pin a genre on A Vicious Circle would be an unnecessary chore, but let’s try it anyhow. Experimental: too easy. Drama, Crime, Comedy, Dramedy: not exactly. All of these are pulled together into a pastiche –at one time Dramatic, at another Comic, both interchanging constantly throughout scenes and even within sentences. For instance, in one scene The Businessman sweats with nervousness next to the stoic Killer. They exchange words, playing psychiatrist to one another. The Businessman leans over and gives him a white envelope – filled with Monopoly money, which he calmly stuffs back inside. These little gems are scattered throughout the film, repeatedly destroying our expectations and providing much needed chuckles.
(*Spoilers*)
Towards the end of the film, The Businessman pleads with The Killer to not bludgeon him to death with a club. The mood is instantly tense. The Businessman anxiously rubs his knees, while the killer rolls the tip of his golf club across the floor, contemplating murder. “What do I have to do?” the businessman begs. “Maybe you should start singing that little song I taught you,” suggests the killer. Cue Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He sings it like the robot he is – out of pitch, tone, cadence. However poorly, he does sing it, and this provokes a sort of sympathy within the viewer. The addition of the children’s song – which recurs throughout the film – is reminiscent of Winston and his paperweight from 1984. The past is easily whittled down into a simplified memory, so childhood often remains pure. When the Businessman sings even the most rudimentary song, he sings it like a lifeless, ultra-dead zombie-robot. Thus, his ruthless murder by the existentialist Killer.
The title of the film points to the obvious – plot, greed, violence – which are all poignant observations. The most interesting aspects of the film, though, lie outside these directed themes. The dialogue and its delivery, the set design, and the editing all hold a massive amount of meaning – enough to mull over for days. To interpret A Vicious Circle properly is to make the experience itself cyclical – there’s a compulsion to watch it over and over again.
