



It feels like someone found a portal to the the future, filmed it in a scrapyard, dared you to keep up. Then they hurled back the result in time. One minute it seems decades ahead of its era; the next it’s stacked in early-‘80s urban dread.
Burst City runs on pure collision, gangs, musicians, construction, corruption — all grinding together until it feels less like a plot and more like a pressure system. It’s also frankly, less a narrative feature than a showcase for Japanese punk acts. That doesn’t matter, because the music isn’t the background, it’s the motor.
The soundtrack beats like a city having a nervous breakdown, and the film matches it beat for beat. Punk and post-punk for the eyeballs, not the ears: rough, loud and sometimes exhausting. The messiness is part fo the buzz, even when it tests your patience. Not a tidy classic by a long shot, but a bracing one.