The Blood of Sion Sono

There are just not enough words, at least in the English language, that can speak my admiration and gratitude to the work of Sion Sono. Forget that I don’t like horror, or gore, or blatant violence against the weak and innocent….however, I do love me some violence. Keep it smart, mind you. Keep it elegant. keep it beneficial. Keep it suurreal and necessary to the story line written by someone who is not us. Keep that in mind as well. We, the ones with the eyes and ears are the audience, the spectators, the no ones. We have been invited to partake in an event that is not by our own design, yet, more often than not, we criticize every last thing spoon fed to us and presented to us and continue to flap our jaws about it like the nonsense speaking puppets that most are. Most not all.

So who does get the prize in having the honour of speaking, of critiquing? Not you or I, but we will do it anyway. I am no hypocrite myself. I admit in full fashion that I complain constantly and joke of almost everything because I, for the life of me, cannot produce the works like those I admire. However again, I do come close. Or…I am getting closer, I should say. And that in itself is more than you are doing, you who reads this, right now. Stand up! Stretch. Let out a yell or a howl and put that brain and hands to work. What? You have bills to pay, a family to support, a boss to answer to? Silly you. Remember when you were younger and life was an illusion of your own device? What, you say? Life isn’t what you predicted it to be? It dealt you a few unprecedented blows, did it? Now who’s fault is that?

When we are young we have complete control of one thing and one thing only, our imagination. Lose that and you are all doomed. You will conform. You will submit to the need for constant and greater monetary worth and you will desire more toys, more food, more,  more, more. But hang on to the imagination, the trauma life deals you. Hang on to the very worst of it and use it or fashion it into a weapon. Now, what do we have here? A killing machine? A toy of seduction? It is whatever you wish and excuses will never help you only harm you and make you more pathetic than you already are. Get up and fight damn it! Teach those children to do the same. You don’t want them to know your pain do you?

This is why I love people like Sion Sono. In fifty years of life, what will you have done? In thirty? In forty? How much imagination will have been spilled before “the audience”? Or do you require more practical thinking? Silly you.

Mr. Q

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