REVIEW BY JEREMIAH
Slap me for saying this, but Violated Angels did not feel like a pink film at all, at least, not when compared to the small handful of other pink films I've been exposed to. Hisayasu Sato's The Bedroom being an exception, most others typically play up the sexual component in such a way that often feels either invasive, or totally distracting. Given that, categorically speaking, Koji Wakamatsu's film sits squarely in the pinku eiga genre, two things logically follow as a result. First, it's clear that pink films have much more to offer than whatever sexual obligations the genre would dictate. Violated Angels certainly does it's due diligence there, but it's only because that component is absolutely crucial to the larger story at hand.
As a commentary on repression, on Japan's social ills, using the horrifying real life story of Richard Speck as a framework and delivery vehicle for it's narrative, sex and violence both enter into the presentation hand-in-hand. That said, don't make the mistake I did in calling this a pinky violence film. It's not. While there is an abundance of sex (and violence) in the proceedings, exploitation isn't a part of this film's cinematic language; most of the worst parts of it are handled off-screen in fact. A decision of restraint, Wakamatsu instead opts to let the film's chilling atmosphere and it's solid aural foundation fill in whatever blanks may exist explicitly. Ultimately this means you're less often pulled out of the story, and — more appropriately — often sitting in despair.
As for the second thing to logically follow, well -- it's sinple. I need to watch more (good) pink films. Period.