Detroit Metal City was a devoutly-cherished and hard-to-get Manga that built a legion of devout followers in Japan. The story of a farm-boy who moves to the big city (Tokyo) to live out his dream of being a “trendy” musician – he inadvertently ends up as the lead singer of the most ferocious, bile-spewing death metal band Japan has ever seen – known affectionately as – you guessed it – Detroit Metal City. Thing is, the kid doesn’t want the job. He mourns his fate and wishes from the bottom of his heart, he could make it on his own terms – that is, as a sappy J-Pop singer.
The film version endeavors to stay as close as possible to the aesthetic and conventions of Manga in that all the actors (with the exception of a couple of animated segues, it is strictly a live-action film) make huge over-exaggerated expressions and respond to things in a way that a viewer who has somehow not yet been exposed to the uber-dramatic Japanese cartoon style, will be completely baffled, perhaps even turned off.
But not this reviewer. I applaud them for lifting the energy of the manga directly off the page and onto the screen without defaulting to computer generated effects or otherwise. In itself this component is fascinating. That the characters and the story are both comedic, intense and hard-core while delivering a rather profound message about the significance of having a dream, what we exchange for it, and doing so with a big warm heart, is exemplary.
The comedy comes not from being wry or ironic but rather from such an overblown sincerity that we instantly align ourselves with the people onscreen. You are almost powerless in resisting. Kenichi Matsuyama sparkles as the insanely melodramatic protagonist – switching effortlessly between the shaky-kneed pop geek to the demonic lead singer from the gates of Hell.
Gene Simmons makes a cameo on steroids in this film. It works, because no one could play the old guard Devil of Rock better than the man who created it.
The music is all very well produced, loud as hell, and the live band scenes are convincing and visceral – all typically hard to accomplish.
I don’t know if this will translate to a big enough audience in the US to see anything short of Cinematheque distribution in North America, but it is already the second highest grosser in Japan as of the TIFF premiere. A small legion of Japanese school girls (not wannabes, but actually visiting from Japan) lined the barricades outside the theater waiting to snap a photo of their idoru. I mistakenly believed them to be waiting for Jack White, The Edge and Jimmy Page to exit the screening that happened prior for “It Might Get Loud”. They could have cared less. Sir Krauser, the fictional white-face painted Death Metal god who sings “Kill them all, kill everyone” was the man they were after.