



It starts out with erotic noir vibes: hush-hush phone calls, back-alley tension, that itchy feeling someone’s always watching. Then you realise Tsukamoto isn’t really doing a thriller — he’s using the noir shape to get at sex, loneliness, and the ways people dodge intimacy until it comes due.
A Snake of June is explicit and it goes to uncomfortable places. But it never felt cheap. It’s oddly empathetic about desire — even, whisper it, sex-positive — like it’s trying to understand people rather than catch them out. If you squint, a few moments could look exploitative, but the intent feels probing, not leering.
My main gripe is the all-over blue tint. It refrigerates everything, like watching through a cold compress. Still, it’s a committed choice, and Tsukamoto’s visual nerve keeps dragging you along. Then a steampunk-ish sequence crashes the party — metallic, jarring, impossible to forget. I didn’t fully warm to it, but I’m on board with what it’s doing.
The idea for the film looks interesting and I had hopes as this sort of thing is something the Japanese do well. Sadly just about every aspect of the plot is either full of holes or just plain unbelievable. Two stars for the atmospheric look and feel and no stars for the rest.