The epitome of humanity's self-destructive nature in its raw, chaotic form all delivered via Kinji Fukasaku's ultraviolent, handheld stylistic blitzkrieg. The title says it all. There's a true sense of lawlessness at the heart of Battles Without Honor and Humanity, one that applies the electric shock treatment to lobotomise any romantic notions of gangsterdom. A dog-eat-dog world of violent, craven thugs and corrupt law enforcers, here the traditional codes of humanity and group loyalty on which Japan's postwar foundations were built are revealed to be a sham. There's some truly superb acting here from everyone involved, although Bunta Sugawara is a clear scene-stealer, a diverse cast of characters who offer a different perspective with their own viewpoints. Fukasaku demonstrates his great skill as a director, and his technique perfectly fits the movie's tone. Using a fast-paced, erratic, nearly chaotic style the action scenes offer us that taste of brutality we wouldn't have felt had the film been directed more traditionally. Fukasaku strays from the established formula of people getting killed fast and easy with one or two bullets instead he shows us an alternative to that: a slow, painful exercise, one that more accurately portrays the yakuza's violent lifestyle. Yet there are no large body counts, the battles are often predetermined with one side attacking an individual or small group from the other, by surprise and in overwhelming force. There really is no honour in the Japanese underworld. Bright, brash, violent and bloody terrific it's hard not to see how Battles Without Honor and Humanity triumphs, a brilliantly, violent tale about the dark and unforgiving nature of the Japanese crime syndicate that once it starts, never stops.