Let’s get this out of the way: Kinjite: Forbidden Subjects is the kind of film that can only be made in the late 1980s. It’s sleazy, it’s exploitative, it’s unapologetically Charles Bronson in his grizzled, pissed-off phase. Directed by J. Lee Thompson, this movie pulls no punches, dives headfirst into controversial topics, and leaves nothing to subtlety. It’s grim, it’s problematic, and it’s very much a product of its time. And with the recent MGM Blu-ray release, it’s back, cleaned up, and ready for a new audience to evaluate—or cringe at—depending on your point of view.

What is Kinjite: Forbidden Subjects?

The plot of Kinjite: Forbidden Subjects is the kind of thing that feels ripped straight from a “What’s Wrong with America” op-ed circa 1989. Charles Bronson plays Lt. Crowe, an LAPD vice cop with a chip on his shoulder the size of Los Angeles itself. His mission: take down Duke—a sleazy pimp who is trafficking young girls. And if that weren’t enough to fill up Bronson’s time, there’s Hiroshi Hada (played by James Pax), a Japanese businessman new to LA whose teenage daughter ends up on the wrong side of the local crime underworld.

The movie is two parts exploitation, one part xenophobia, and all parts Bronson-fueled anger. Crowe is your prototypical hard-nosed cop who will do anything to get results, including stepping over lines that are blurry at best. The way Kinjite portrays Los Angeles, it’s a morally bankrupt hellscape. There’s always someone ready to prey on the innocent, and it’s only the barely contained fury of Lt. Crowe that can put a dent in the sleaze. But unlike your classic Dirty Harry or any of Bronson’s Death Wish flicks, Kinjite ups the ante with the cultural collision aspect—taking on issues of immigration, cultural misunderstanding, and a whole bunch of casual racism along the way.

Crowe’s character starts the film as a bigoted, foul-mouthed cop who blames immigrants for what he sees as the decay of Los Angeles. His attitude towards the Hada family is the film’s clunky attempt at depicting a redemption arc. The deeper Crowe gets involved in the Hada family’s struggles, the more we see the transformation from bigoted cop to someone who actually understands what they’re going through. The problem? The character growth feels shoehorned in rather than earned. The movie wants to go for a “tough guy with a heart” angle, but the execution just doesn’t get us there.

Thematic Exploration

Here’s the thing: Kinjite is a movie that does not shy away from taboo subjects, and not in a good way. It’s not here to give you a nuanced discussion about human trafficking or cultural differences. Instead, it’s more of a “shock you until you feel something” kind of experience. Director J. Lee Thompson clearly aimed to provoke a reaction, and that reaction is usually disgust or disbelief.

Kinjite: Forbidden Subjects, to put it bluntly, a mess of exploitative tropes. Crowe’s prejudice against the Japanese and his immediate suspicion towards anyone foreign is the basis for much of the early character tension. It’s a reflection of late 80s economic anxieties—Japan was buying up American assets and that clearly rubbed some people the wrong way. So, in this film, Crowe embodies that old-school attitude, being dismissive, rude, and outright xenophobic until, surprise, he finds a reason to “come around.”

This arc—where Crowe goes from bigot to reluctant hero—is supposed to add depth, but it mostly feels forced. He switches gears too quickly and too easily, with the movie glossing over what should have been a more painful evolution. If anything, Kinjite almost revels in its own seediness, giving us a story that wants to be gritty and realistic but often lands in problematic territory.

There’s also Hiroshi Hada and his family, caught in the middle of all this. Hada represents a cultural naïveté—someone who doesn’t understand how bad Los Angeles can be until it’s too late. He’s polite, deferential, and totally unequipped for what happens to his family. It’s tragic, yes, but it’s also a convenient tool for the film to showcase Bronson’s transformation from an embittered cop to a guy willing to help someone different from himself.

The Wild World of Kinjite

Charles Bronson is Lt. Crowe through and through—if you’ve seen any late-career Bronson films, you know the drill. He’s tired, he’s pissed off, and he’ll gladly punch someone in the face if it means protecting the innocent. It’s pure Bronson, but without any of the real emotional depth that his earlier work sometimes touched on. He looks more weary than anything else here, and you get the sense that he’s going through the motions—but honestly, when you’re Charles Bronson, just showing up and doing your thing is enough for a certain kind of audience.

James Pax as Hiroshi Hada plays the role well enough—he’s believable as a man who is way out of his depth. Pax gives Hada a sense of genuine vulnerability, which makes his storyline feel real even when the rest of the film doesn’t always hit the mark. Hada is the character you’re supposed to sympathize with, and he does his job well, showing the fear and frustration of a father who just wants his family to be safe.

Then there’s Juan Fernández as Duke—a slimy pimp who checks every single villain box without ever moving beyond caricature. Duke is evil, plain and simple, and the film doesn’t give him any nuance. He exists purely as a catalyst for Crowe’s rage and Hada’s nightmare, and that’s about it. He’s the kind of villain who’s more of a symbol than a person—something to be stopped, not someone to understand.

Peggy Lipton as Kathleen Crowe, Bronson’s on-screen wife, provides a few moments that are meant to humanize Crowe, showing he has a home life that isn’t entirely dysfunctional. But honestly, these scenes feel tacked on and don’t really integrate well with the rest of the story. They’re there to give Crowe some dimension, but they end up feeling like filler compared to the main action.

J. Lee Thompson went from Cape Fear to Cannon

J. Lee Thompson had a good run with Bronson during the 80s, but by the time they got to Kinjite, things were starting to feel a bit tired. The direction here is competent, but there’s no real flair—just a lot of grimy shots of seedy motels, strip clubs, and the dark, dangerous streets of Los Angeles. Gideon Porath’s cinematography captures the ugliness of LA’s underbelly, and the visuals are bleak, fitting with the narrative’s vibe. The handheld, tight shots create a sense of urgency during action scenes, but they also make the movie feel smaller than it really is—more TV drama than cinematic action thriller.

Thompson’s focus is on emphasizing the disparity between Crowe’s two worlds—his domestic life and his brutal work life. The soft, warm lighting used in Crowe’s family scenes feels almost jarringly out of place when juxtaposed with the harsh, neon-drenched streets and shadowy alleyways. This stark visual contrast feels intentional, but it doesn’t do much to bridge the gap between the two worlds, often feeling more like a reminder of how disconnected Crowe is from any semblance of a normal existence.

The action scenes are standard fare for late-era Bronson. They’re quick, violent, and almost always end with Crowe delivering a line as blunt as the blows he’s dealt. There’s no glamour here—just a series of brutal confrontations meant to show just how dirty and corrupt the world Crowe inhabits really is.

It’s quite the odd script

The Kinjite script by Harold Nebenzal is unflinching, and not always in a good way. It hits you over the head with its themes, opting for blunt force instead of nuance. Crowe’s dialogue is filled with the kind of lines you’d expect from an 80s cop—half threats, half groans, with a few offhand, racist comments thrown in to show that he’s a product of his time.

The exchanges between Crowe and Hada are supposed to be the emotional core of Kinjite, where we see Crowe slowly come to understand the plight of someone he initially despised. The problem is, these moments are few and far between, and the film doesn’t give enough space for their relationship to grow organically. The dialogue often feels forced, and the change in Crowe’s outlook isn’t as convincing as the film wants it to be.

The character of Duke is written to be as reprehensible as possible, and the dialogue reflects that. He’s there to embody all the worst aspects of humanity—greed, cruelty, and complete disregard for life. But with nothing else to his character, the writing makes him feel more like a cartoon villain than an actual person, which strips some of the tension away from his scenes.

MGM has been doing these special feature less Twilight Time style Blu-rays recently

Now, let’s talk about the MGM Blu-ray release. If you’re a Bronson completist or someone who’s nostalgic for those grimy 80s action films, the Blu-ray might be worth picking up. The Kinjite restoration itself is solid—nothing jaw-dropping, but it does a good job of cleaning up the murkiness that plagued the previous VHS and DVD releases.

Video Quality

The video quality is a noticeable upgrade, especially during night scenes and the darker moments. Los Angeles looks more alive, even if the life we’re seeing is its shadiest side. The grain has been cleaned up just enough to retain the gritty feel without looking too polished. Gideon Porath’s cinematography benefits from the improved contrast—neon lights look more vibrant, and the dark shadows that hide all of the city’s predators are clearer.

Audio Quality

The audio is also a step up. The remastered soundtrack makes Greg De Belles’ score more present, giving a bit more punch to the action scenes. Dialogue, which was sometimes hard to make out in older versions, is now front and center—making sure you catch every growl that comes out of Bronson’s mouth. It’s not a perfect remaster, but it gets the job done, which is more than can be said for some 80s re-releases.

Why don’t more people remember Kinjite?

Kinjite: Forbidden Subjects is not an easy film to champion. It’s problematic, crass, and feels out of step with modern sensibilities. But it’s also an essential part of Charles Bronson’s late-career filmography—a reminder of what action cinema looked like before it got glossy and PG-13. It’s ugly, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s pure grindhouse—right before the grindhouse era gasped its last breath.

Kinjite’s portrayal of cultural tension and exploitation has aged poorly in some respects, but it also captures a very real sentiment of its time—the fear and resentment many felt during the late 80s when economic shifts brought new faces and new money to America’s doorstep. Bronson’s Crowe is an anti-hero for an audience that wanted justice, no matter how ugly it looked.

For Bronson fans, Kinjite is a last hurrah of sorts—his final collaboration with J. Lee Thompson and one of the last films where he played the kind of character he built his career on. The MGM Blu-ray release ensures that, for better or worse, this film won’t fade into obscurity. It’s been given a second life for a new audience—some of whom will see it as an unflinching thriller, others as a relic that probably should’ve stayed in the past.

Kinjite: Forbidden Subjects was a funny title when I was a kid, it’s funnier as an adult

Kinjite: Forbidden Subjects is rough around the edges, and often rough at its core. Charles Bronson plays the role that made him famous, but here, it’s set against a backdrop that’s dirtier, meaner, and more explicitly controversial than even his Death Wish films. The MGM Blu-ray release brings it back with the best possible picture and sound quality, but the film remains divisive—a testament to Bronson’s unique appeal, even as the content challenges what many would consider acceptable today.

If you’re in it for the full Bronson experience, Kinjite delivers that raw, take-no-prisoners attitude. But be prepared—this is not an easy watch. It’s the kind of movie that doesn’t care if you like it or not, and that’s part of what makes it an interesting, if flawed, piece of action cinema history.

Kinjite: Forbidden Subjects is now available on Blu-ray at MovieZyng and other places

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