There’s an irresistible playfulness to how Takeshi Kitano tinkers with his duality of the gritty and goofy. As an actor and director known for both his absurd comedy and vicious crime roles, he seems to fluctuate between two different tones but rarely wants to settle. He’s also been known for weirdly meta approaches to his career, something that has grown less weird over time. But even after such wild films on his filmography, Kitano still comes out swinging and manages to impress with a refreshingly bizarre film unafraid to toy with the audience and genre perceptions while willing to be admirably stupid for laughs.

The story that Kitano devises is a familiar one, but it’s presented in two different tones. The premise of both revolves around Kitano playing a hitman working for an unseen client. After being caught by the authorities, he’s given a chance at forgiveness if he works as an undercover agent in the yakuza drug operation. For the first half of the film, Kitano’s hitman story is treated with that stern and methodical he’s utilized in everything from Violent Cop to Sonatine.

But then the narrative starts from the beginning and replays the same events as a comedy. Kitano’s hitman goes from a quiet soul to an absent-minded misfit. While the dramatic approach found him calmly executing three men in a restaurant like it was little more than a chore, the comedic angle finds him mishandling the gun and accidentally touching the hot parts of the pistol. But Kitano doesn’t stop there! He goes the extra mile for hilarity in this segment, adopting everything from silly arguments to wrestling costumes to a shootout that inexplicably turns into a game of musical chairs. Random acts of silliness crowd this back half of the film, where the non-stop absurdity is astounding for its audacity. It’s the type of film where the interrogating cops will call Kitano a mouse, cut to him in a mouse costume, he squeaks, and you never question it. That type of stuff just seems to happen in a film like this.

There’s a gung-ho nature to how Kitano fearlessly plows into this experiment. Peppered throughout the comedic segment are these filler screens of text conversations between the staff where they debate over cuts of Kitano’s film. Some complain about how disconnected the film appears, while others simply remark, “That’s such a Kitano thing to do.” I’m sure there will be some similar conversations between those familiar with Kitano’s filmography and those not. The way Kitano literally contorts his camera for different angles and moods is so brilliantly bonkers that even goes so far as to make an even shorter take on the same story right before the credits roll.

Broken Rage is simultaneously a reflection of Kitano’s legacy and a giddy experiment in dicing up his various filmmaking styles. For an actor/director in his 70s, he hasn’t lost his edge for testing the waters of the medium. He can still flex his refined approach to an aged gangster but also turn himself into a goofy mess willing to put on silly costumes while not trying too hard for a laugh. Whereas other actors might be slowing down with age, Kitano continues to be one of the most exciting and experimental Japanese directors.