The Legend of Versus

Maybe it was the fact that it was 3:00 a.m. and we were all wide awake, but I’ll tell you, I’ve never been in a room with more contagious laughter than that one. For two hours, we nuked cups of ramen in that beaten blue and silver microwave and dished out high-fives like hot cakes. My favorite night in that dorm, and it didn’t require a drop of alcohol.

That night was epic.

That night, we watched Versus.


It actually wasn’t the first time we’d seen the film. Some months earlier, one of us in the group, Reny, had picked it up from Blockbuster as a blind rental. A violent Japanese bloodbath with swords? Yes, please. That first viewing was more of a “What the heck is this thing?” kind of experience, but it left enough of an impression to convince me that Versus would be the perfect Christmas gift for Reny. So when the imported Director’s Cut DVD finally arrived, no one questioned a second viewing.

Some gangsters and convicts meet up at a remote forest, but when things escalate and someone gets plugged, the last thing they expect is for the dude to resurrect. What they don’t realize is that this forest is -- wait for it -- the Forest of Resurrection. Blah blah blah, etc, etc, etc. All you need to know about Versus is that it’s got gangsters, zombies, samurais with a twist of ninja, kung fu, guns, swords, impossibly severed body parts, blood flowing like milk and honey, and of course, comedy. What more could you ask for? For 120 minutes, the film tries to one-up itself, daring us 19 and 20 year olds sitting on that old sunken couch to claim that each extravagant moment couldn’t be topped by the next.

I wouldn’t be surprised if there are drinking games for Versus. The Michael Bay Rapidly Circling Camera Move showed up so much, each instance required more laughter. I lost count of how many POV shots the movie treated us to, or how many times a character jumped over a bug’s-eye camera angle. Judging from the fact that the entire story pretty much takes place in one generic location, I’m guessing Versus worked with a small budget, so they spent it on blood and guts rather than flash and gloss; the few visual flares available were nearly exhausted. But that’s part of the charm of the film. It exudes that Tarantino-esque joy where you figure that if he had the means, director Ryûhei Kitamura might let every fight scene go on for 40 more minutes. He just wants to see these guys go at it. You know a film’s enjoying itself when a character rips a man’s heart out, holding the still-beating organ in his fist, and it’s not even the punchline of the scene. I won’t give away the payoff, but I will say that it was the moment that made five college kids nearly lose their minds.


The thing is, Versus has fun with its material, no matter what’s going on. One guy attempts to clean his blood-splattered glasses while zombies shuffle all around him. As they battle, the characters literally strike poses as they fire away, looking like they’re in a photoshoot rather than a shootout. The protagonist gets a Batman Forever-style montage as he whisks on his trench coat, ready to disembowel whatever zombies dare to cross him, only to have his rock star moment ruined when the damsel in distress gives him a “don’t even go there” look as he slowly slips on the shades. Defeated, the hero takes them back off.

People always look to put a poor movie in the “so bad, it’s good” category, if only to justify their soft spot for the film. Heck, some films come out of the gate with that strategy, yet they almost always fail. But I think when creating a piece that falls into that sacred brotherhood of films, the director is either astoundingly oblivious, or he just doesn’t give a flip. That’s why Knowing works so well. There are some amazing parts, and some baffling, painful parts, but through it all, I got the sense that Alex Proyas just said, “Who cares? Let’s do it anyway. Put it in there.” I picked up on a similar vibe watching Versus. Kitamura may not be as skilled as Proyas, but he may be just as fearless. Samurai zombies? Sure. Intestines tumbling out like Italian sausages? Why not? He knows the monologues stink. He knows the plot is ridiculous. He knows these stand-offs are obscenely long. And still, Kitamura says, “Good. Let’s do it some more.” I admire that.

Versus has become legend to me. It’s a film experience to brag about; notice the reaction you get when you tell some acquaintances about the samurai zombie kung fu gore flick you saw. Even more so, the genuine unrestrained fun that I had watching the film with good buddies is something I hold onto tightly. Real, unbridled nights like that don’t happen too often. A few months later, that group of five wasn’t so closely knit. Certain people avoided certain others. Events happened, things got in the way. Relationships fell out, and eventually, I dropped out. I can’t look back on those months and smile very much, but when I look back on that night, I can’t stop smiling. That makes experiences like Versus even more special.