The casting of Shield of Straw is delicious on a meta level involving two seminal Japanese genre-film classics. First taking the reporter, and aunt to one of the victims of the ghost), in the ultimate expression of Japanese paranoia and nihilism, 1998's J-Horror classic Ringu and casting the actress Matsushima Nanako as one of the two key protectors, Shiraiwa of the serial rapist and killer, Kiyomaru.
In Ringu, once a person has viewed the demonic video, they cannot 'unsee' it and are doomed to die. Fear of technology and a cynical lack of restraint of the bulk of the population lead to horror and death. In Miike's film, this unease and paranoia of the core team of police protectors need to both rely on and shun the technology.
Shiraiwa needs to know what the rest of the world can see on the internet regarding their location and method of transport which seems impossibly aware of their coordinates at all times. This is possibly due to a bugged cellphone or GPS tracking device on a police officer, but it cannot be located. She has everyone give her the batteries of their cellular phones, but she herself cannot help but keep coming back to the technology, even for more mundane uses. Technology (and the speed at which information travels) in this high speed chase is the source of and solution to many of their problems. Shiraiwa cannot help but keep fiddling with her phone even as she has confiscated everyone else.
In Kinji Fukusaku's subversive satire, Battle Royale Fujiwara Tatsuya plays young Shuya, the most morally upright and emotionally affected student in a class of roiling hormones and issues, that is whisked to an isolated island, and forced to kill each other for the pure spectacle (and catharsis) of the nation.
In one of the best pieces of subversive casting in some time, the same actor, now 15 years older than the grade 9 student in but still with a wholesomely smooth face plays Kiyomaru as the vile, almost assuredly guilty killer and defiler of a 7-year-old girl. It is implied that he has done this to many others as well. Kiyomaru grovels, whines and otherwise prostrates himself to the police protection he is offered. At the same time, every time a citizen (or cop) is harmed or killed by making a play to kill him, Kiyomaru sports a wicked half-smile, gleeful in his culpability.
The actor still imparts some human qualities (he tries to care for his mother in a way) and seems conflicted (shades of Peter Lorre in M) about his compulsions. But otherwise Fujiwara Tatsuya perfectly inverts his most famous image into something twisted and ugly and difficult to empathize with on every level. An attempt to further erode a moral reaction inside the film or outside to the audience, even with his smooth still boyish face.