An ice-cold film. Yoshida's direction has a cool air to it, in ways
reminiscent of the earlier New Wave movies, but here it is refined to
the nth degree. The sterile, high-contrast black and white
cinematography, geometrically imprisoning compositions, and
space-age/classical soundtrack give the feeling of something akin to a
horror movie. In a way, the people and ideas looked at in here are
scarier than any horror movie. Coup d'etat focuses in on Kita Ikki, a
Japanese philosopher and professor who was a radical far right-wing
national socialist and whose ideas provided the ideological backing for
the February 26 incident. Instead of focusing on the larger events,
Yoshida instead stays with Ikki throughout most of the film. The big
history is in the background, detailed through telephone calls and
letters. What is so terrifying here, though, is how Yoshida lays bare
the allure of fascism. Fascist politics attract those who feel weak and
insecure, people who do not see their value as an individual and need
the group for a sense of purpose. They are masochistic in the extreme,
but we can identify with them. There are problems here, however. The
plot is hard to follow, even those with a working knowledge of Japanese
history and politics of the era will be confused. Yoshida offers
absolutely no hand-holding. And the movie is perhaps too cold and
distant, and the drawing room discussions that make up a good chunk do
become tedious. Still, this is a powerful, essential work, a masterpiece
of political cinema. The final shot will haunt me forever.
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