Female Prisoner Scorpion: #701’s Grudge Song (1973)

Toei Studios had big plans for the Female Prisoner Scorpion series. After the first three entries scalded audiences and lit-up the box-office, the plan was to extend the series indefinitely.

Unfortunately, things took a major hit when director Shunya Itō bowed out after Female Prisoner Scorpion: Beast Stable (alias Joshū Sasori - Kemono Beya, 1973), saying he had done all he wanted to do with the character. But! They were able to get star Meiko Kaji to sign on for at least one more, reuniting her with one of her old Stray Cat Rock directors, Yasuharu Hasebe, for what would turn out to be the last entry in the series, Female Prisoner Scorpion: #701’s Grudge Song (alias Joshū Sasori - 701 Gō Urami Bushi, 1973).

Sadly, one can easily sense Itō’s absence in this last installment. It’s good, but not near as good as the others as we once more open with Matsu on the run from yet another new arch-nemesis, Inspector Hirose (Tsukata).

Beaten and bloodied, she manages to elude capture and takes refuge in a strip-club, where she’s nursed back to health by Kudo (Tamura), a former student radical who is also well aware of police brutality, having been crippled, scarred, and beaten into betraying his faction by the very same Hirose. And together, these two lost souls go on the lam and slowly *ahem* stoke the fires and rekindle their lost humanity (-- a theme that actually began in the last installment for Matsu).

Things get complicated when an attempt to ambush Hirose goes awry, where his pregnant wife, whom they were holding hostage, is accidentally killed while trying to escape (-- though she might’ve committed suicide by flinging herself off a balcony. Hard to read that scene, honestly.)

When Kudo is captured he once more caves, giving up Matsu to the police; and as she is once more incarcerated and awaits her execution, constantly tormented by Hirose the whole time, whatever trace of humanity that had resurfaced is now completely destroyed, meaning Matsu is no more and now there is only the Scorpion, who has no intention of walking the gallows steps and will not stop until she’s had her revenge again, again.

It isn’t until the grand finale and final fatal showdown that Female Prisoner Scorpion: 701’s Grudge Song finally reaches the nightmarish delirium of the first three films. If Hasebe had spread that out a bit, then we really might’ve had something here.

As is, parts just didn’t jive; like how Matsu makes several long speeches after barely uttering ten words in the last three films combined. Still, they were trying to show that Matsu was subverting the Scorpion so I guess that kinda works. However, one cannot help but sense this was a film about Kudo that grafted Matsu onto it, a doomed couple on the run that owes more to Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and The Getaway (1972) than its predecessors.

Thus, Grudge Song falls into that nebulous category of being a pretty good movie but also a pretty terrible sequel. Not a catastrophe by any means -- you got Meiko Kaji being Meiko Kaji after all, but there is a whiff of disappointment that I won’t deny.

Now, when most people try to sell you on a lode of female empowerment that’s wrapped-up in this kind of violence, sexually abusive brutality, and sadistically exploitative packaging, they are usually full of shit; but I’m telling ya the Female Prisoner Scorpion series are the real deal.

And in this four part retrospective, you’re only getting half the picture as no plot synopsis on Earth can do justice to the work Meiko and Itō executed onscreen. And if you need further proof, I will point you to Arrow Video’s Female Prisoner Scorpion: The Complete Collection boxset.

As always, the Arrow discs are jammed packed with extras. No commentaries this time, which is a tad disappointing because I wanted to know more. However, Arrow compensates for this with plenty of featurettes, including several new interviews with Itō and one vintage interview with Hasebe. But the real highlights are a couple of visual essays by Tom Mes; one on the film career of Meiko Kaji and the other an in depth analysis of the evolution of the Scorpion series. 

The boxset also includes a booklet with more critical analysis, an interview with Toru Shinohara, the creator of the Scorpion manga, and a reprint of a rare vintage interview with star Meiko Kaji.

Again, I was well aware of this series but aside from a much later Chinese co-production / failed reboot in the aughts (-- that wasn't very good), I waited way too long for my first official foray into the Scorpion series and I cannot stress enough how much the originals knocked me on my ass. 

There was a bit of diminishing returns as the series progressed, sure, especially the last entry with Ito’s absence. But honestly, the bar was set so high you might not even notice. Cannot recommend this series enough, Fellow Programs. 

Originally posted on on July 31, 2016, at Micro-Brewed Reviews.

Female Prisoner Scorpion: #701’s Grudge Song (1973) Toei Company / P: Kineo Yoshimine / D: Yasuharu Hasebe / W: Yasuharu Hasebe, Fumio Kônami, Hirô Matsuda, Tooru Shinohara (manga) / C: Hanjirô Nakazawa / E: Tomio Fukuda / M: Hajime Kaburagi / S: Meiko Kaji, Masakazu Tamura, Yumi Kanei, Hiroshi Tsukata, Yayoi Watanabe, Sanae Nakahara

Female Prisoner Scorpion: Beast Stable (1973)

The two punch combo of director Shunya Itō and star Meiko Kaji had roared onto Japanese screens with Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (alias Joshū Nana-maru-ichi Gō / Sasori, 1972), and its immediate sequel, Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (alias, Joshū Sasori – Dai 41 Zakkyobō 1972), delivered more of the same. 

Thus, Toei, the studio behind them, at first reluctant, now openly embraced this new breed of film, which explains why Female Prisoner Scorpion: Beast Stable (alias Joshū Sasori - Kemono Beya, 1973) was also put on the fast track.

This third entry in the Sasori / Scorpion saga begins rather gruesomely as our fugitive heroine Matsu (Meiko), still on the loose after the successful bloody conclusion of the last chapter, narrowly escapes the long-arm of the law when her new arch-nemesis, Detective Kondo (Narita), tries to nab her on a subway train, only to literally lose an arm.

Seems he managed to cuff himself to Matsu, so she just chopped off the tethered appendage to make her escape. (The scene as she flees the subway and into the light, the dismembered hand still tethered to her wrist, leading to a near total white-out, is another win to notch on the innovative director's belt.)

Hiding out in a cemetery, Matsu is taken in by a prostitute, who cares for but also has a disturbing mutually beneficial incestuous relationship with her hapless, sex-addicted and brain-damaged brother. Recognizing her from all the wanted for murder posters, a miserable Yuki (Watanabe) is now pregnant and hoping Matsu will help out and just put her brother out of his / her misery.

Meanwhile, Yuki is also having problems with a local brothel -- more specifically Madam Katsu (Ri) and her goon squad, who don't take kindly to independent sex-workers horning onto their turf.

Having once served time with the notorious Scorpion, Katsu recognizes Matsu and knows she has the wanted fugitive over a barrel. With plans to add Matsu to her stable, this unwilling recruit is drugged and left in a giant birdcage (-- just roll with this, trust me), where Matsu watches one of the other prostitutes, forced into having a botched back-alley abortion, bleed out and die.

Of course this once again lights a raging fire of vengeance in Matsu; for it's bad enough when men exploit women like this but it’s even worse when women do it to themselves. And after hemorrhaging out all of her henchmen, Katsu actually turns herself in to the authorities and willingly goes to prison, hoping this will somehow save her from the wrath of the Scorpion.

But nowhere is safe from the deadly eyes of the blade-slinging Matsu. And after a not-so-brief interlude where she's trapped in a sewer maze / rat trap by a psychotically determined Kondo -- determined to see her dead, that is, which he thinks he has accomplished with some induced help from Yuki, a thousand gallons of gas, and a tossed match.

Thus, with Matsu presumed dead and cremated, that leaves her free to get thrown in prison anonymously on a frivolous charge -- the same prison where Katsu is hiding out. Well, make that she was hiding out, as Matsu's machinations soon has all of her enemy threads tied up and knotted off in a neat little (and very dead) bow.

 Shunya Itō and Meiko Kaji.

By now, Itō and Meiko were fairly comfortable with each other; and having felt they'd played out the prison angle the majority of Beast Stable takes place on the outside looking in with Itō's usual brazen visual flare and camera tricks; and the film wears its anti-establishment message on its sleeve – well, actually a clenched fist hidden inside that sleeve.

Mention should also be made of the fantastic score provided by Shunsuke Kikuchi and the mournful ballads that serve as sort of an ersatz Greek chorus throughout the whole series -- and it should be noted that this balladeer was Meiko Kaji herself, who sings her “Song of Vengeance” just as well as she kicks ass.

Apparently Toei had envisioned at least a ten film run for their Female Prisoner Scorpion series. Alas, even though the films had lost no momentum at the box-office, and a guarantee that he could do anything he wanted, Itō felt he had told all the "fiction within a fiction" tales he cared to tell.

However, the studio was able to convince Meiko to come back for at least one more go with Female Prisoner Scorpion: #701’s Grudge Song.

Originally posted on on July 31, 2016, at Micro-Brewed Reviews.

Female Prisoner Scorpion: Beast Stable (1973) Toei Company / P: Kineo Yoshimine / D: Shun'ya Itô / W: Hirô Matsuda, Tooru Shinohara (manga) / C: Masao Shimizu / E: Osamu Tanaka / M: Shunsuke Kikuchi / S: Meiko Kaji, Mikio Narita, Reisen Ri, Yayoi Watanabe, Kôji Nanbara, Seiya Satô

Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (1972)

With the smashing box-office success of Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (alias Joshū Nana-maru-ichi Gō / Sasori, 1972), audiences were clamoring for more and a once reluctant Toei Studios essentially tripped over themselves to oblige, reuniting director Shunya Itō and star Meiko Kaji for Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (alias, Joshū Sasori – Dai 41 Zakkyobō 1972), which hit theaters a mere four months after the premiere of its predecessor.

The sequel picks up a year after the bloody conclusion of the first film, with Matsu (Kaji) back in prison. Now, Matsu has spent that entire year trussed up in the deepest, darkest, and dankest recesses of the prison in solitary confinement. 

And she probably would’ve remained there until she rotted away but her old pal and resident sadist, Warden Goda (Watanabe), has decided to let her out to see the sun one last time before he transfers out via a promotion. (I just love how these two are the constant banes of each other’s existence.)

This does not go well at all. And so, with his promotion derailed, Goda orders a Sisyphean group punishment for all prisoners at a local rock quarry, where he has a skeevy surprise planned for our protagonist as well, to make her an even more abject lesson to the other convicts.

However, and sticking with the theme, this plan also backfires when Matsu and six other prisoners engineer an escape and spend the rest of the film on the run, with Goda and his goons and their own past sins hot on their heels. Again, this does not end well.

Now, I had heard good things about this series but, great googly-moogily, two films in and this is patently ridiculous how great these Female Prisoner Scorpion films have been.

I talked about the international influences of Itô on the first film but we can add traditional Japanese theater, Masaki Kobayashi’s Kwaidan (1964), and I swear to god, the musicals of Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly as several phantasmagorical dream sequences just scream, “Man, this really reminds me of the 'Gotta Dance!' sequence from Singing in the Rain (1960)."

But those explosions of color are rare this go ‘round, with a more subdued palette as this one kinda sorta comes off as a ghost story. The scenes where the fugitives hide in the ruins of a village, abandoned due to an apparent volcanic eruption, providing a surreal moonscape, are hypnotic -- though the bit with the stray dog was a tad disturbing.

As are later scenes with the discovery of a body in a river and the waterfall suddenly disgorging a torrent of blood; or where our heroine gets lost in a mountain range landfill that quietly tells you all you need to know about what the director is trying to say. (There’s also an early scene where he shows the passage of time by showing Matsu grind a spoon into a shiv using only her teeth.)

Thus, no matter how many influences you cite, Itô combines them all into one unique, demented, and brain-boggling experience.

Meiko also delivers again, too, as our silent assassin; though I think she only says three words during the whole movie. Never fear, Kayoko Shiraishi says plenty as fellow prisoner Oba, in a performance for the ages in this primal scream and raised middle finger at the entrenched corruption of the powers that be in post-war Japan and its oppressive patriarchal system.

A primal scream that once again had audiences clamoring for yet another sequel. Again, Toei didn’t hesitate and Female Prisoner Scorpion: Beast Stable (1973) was soon in production.

Originally posted on on July 31, 2016, at Micro-Brewed Reviews.

Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (1972) Toei Company / P: Kineo Yoshimine / D: Shun'ya Itô / W: Shun'ya Itô, Fumio Kônami, Hirô Matsuda, Tooru Shinohara (manga) / C: Masao Shimizu / E: Osamu Tanaka / M: Shunsuke Kikuchi / S: Meiko Kaji, Fumio Watanabe, Yukie Kagawa, Kayoko Shiraishi, Eiko Yanami, Hiroko Isayama

Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (1972)

Despite an escalation of violence and explicit nudity, Japanese cinema, like their American counterparts, was still losing the battle to television at the dawn of the 1970s, and losing badly at winning the hearts and minds and wallets of audiences. 

And while fabled studios like Nikkatsu had abandoned any pretensions and went full softcore Roman Porno (Romance Porn), rival studio Toei fought on and found a modicum of success by amping up the violence and nudity even more. 

And not only that, but Toei would also abandon traditional Japanese themes of honor and tradition and proper gender roles for the more brutal approach of Kinji Fukasaku’s epic treatise Battles Without Honor and Humanity (alias Jingi Naki Tatakai,1973), producer Kanji Amao's line of Pinku eiga (Pinky Violence) films, tales of vengeance fueled by the likes of Reiko Ike and Miki Sugimoto, and Shunya Itō’s scream into the void Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (alias Joshū Nana-maru-ichi Gō / Sasori, 1972).

Seems when Nikkatsu switched gears to skin-flicks it also saw an exodus of talent; one of those being rising star Meiko Kaji, who had lit-up the box-office with Blind Woman’s Curse (alias Kaidan Nobori Ryū, 1970) and the delinquent bad-girl-centric Stray Cat Rock series (1970-1971), which Toei had hoped would continue by plugging Meiko into a proposed adaptation of Tōru Shinohara’s popular women-in-prison manga, Sasori (alias Scorpion).

However, things got off to a very rocky start as the assigned novice director Itō wasn't all that impressed with Meiko as an actress and felt she was completely wrong for the part. Their first pre-production meeting was a complete disaster. 

But luckily for film fans everywhere, despite the initial rancor behind the scenes, things eventually worked themselves out onscreen as the director and actress delivered a deliriously awesome cocktail of sex, violence, female empowerment, and social commentary wrapped in bun of surrealistic artistry and striking visuals.

Not quite Pinky Violence and not quite Roman Porno, this inaugural entry sets the tone to come with a distinct authority seldom seen from a first time director. And while Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion definitely has the salacious, exploitative sheen of a women-in-prison flick on the surface, you don't have to dig too deep into the nudity, cat-fights, and lesbian interludes to see there's a lot more going on as the film rails against entrenched corruption and the abuse of power.

Of course, all of that is wrapped around the tale of a prisoner, Nami “Matsu” Matsushima (Meiko), who was set-up by Sugimi (Natsuyagi), a crooked police detective. Used as bait in a drug-bust to eliminate his competitors it goes sideways -- so sideways an enraged Nami tries to kill him after. She fails, and the girl is arrested and sentenced to jail, much to Sugimi’s amusement.

Inside the prison walls, for trying to kill a police officer, our heroine is subjected to all kinds of torture and abuse from the guards and the sadistic warden, Goda (Watanabe). But Matsu also gets it from her fellow inmates and trustees, too, when her many escape attempts to get revenge on the man who railroaded her results in punishment for all.

Thus, as Matsu’s few friends are stripped away, along with her humanity, she slowly transforms into the Scorpion. And when one of Goda’s group punishments backfires, resulting in a riot and a prolonged stand-off, Matsu manages one more escape and systematically takes out Sugimi’s narcotics ring, leading to a final fatal showdown with the man who betrayed her, who also happens to be the man she loves.

With her transformation from naïve waif to hardcore killing machine, with such minimal dialogue, watching Meiko Kaji’s performance is both incredible and a privilege as she constantly turns the tables on her tormentors; all stepping stones on the road to her ultimate revenge. I’m telling ya, her silent death glare could vaporize glacial ice.

Itō would freely admit he was mistaken about Meiko. The director put her through all kinds of hell during filming, which the actress never backed away from, earning his deep respect. And the mesmerizing results on film are just brutal, visceral, and visually stunning as Ito's influences range from German silent expressionism to the avant-garde weirdness of Luis Buñuel. I love how Matsu draws a blade across her eyes, with tears for blood, signaling that vengeance is coming -- like the hand swipe that turns the giant stone golem to a vengeful demon in Daimajin (1966).

There’s also the anything goes nuttery of Seijun Suzuki's Tokyo Drifter (alias Tōkyō nagaremono, 1966) and Branded to Kill (alias Koroshi no Rakuin); the hard shell candy colors of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger; to the wild camera angles of William Dozier's TV version of Batman (1966-1968).

As the legend goes, when the film was finished, Toei executives weren’t thrilled with the end result and were on the verge of just shelving Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion indefinitely; but a wild raid and sit-in at a hotel occupied by the brass led by Itō turned things around.

Originally intended as a B-picture, the film proved such a big hit it was quickly moved to the top of the bill to cash-in. Thus, the film that almost didn’t happen -- or not as we’ve come to know it, left audiences clamoring for more. And Toei was quick to answer, reuniting Itō and Meiko for the follow up feature, Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (1972).

Originally posted on on July 31, 2016, at Micro-Brewed Reviews.

Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (1972) Toei Company / P: Kineo Yoshimine / D: Shun'ya Itô / W: Fumio Kônami, Hirô Matsuda, Tooru Shinohara (Manga) / C: Hanjirô Nakazawa / E: Osamu Tanaka / M: Shunsuke Kikuchi / S: Meiko Kaji, Rie Yokoyama, Yayoi Watanabe, Yôko Mihara, Akemi Negishi