Violent and sombre in tone, Ryunosuke kills often, and usually only to indulge his sadistic personality. He’s a largely unsympathetic central character, which sets the film apart from most others in the samurai genre.
In arguably his greatest role, Tatsuya Nakadai’s performance is highly evocative; his mixture of cold, uncaring stares and the occasional manic expression perfectly conveys Ryunosuke’s sociopath tendencies. During his fight scenes, Ryunosuke is methodical, coldly cutting down his enemies, on occasion showing joy as he does so. Nakadai conveys this well and to disturbing effect.
Tatsuya Nakadai as Ryunosuke. Sword of Doom directed by Kihachi Okamoto and produced by Sanezumi Fujimoto, Kaneharu Minamizato and Masayuki Sato for Toho Studios.
Okamoto’s direction surpasses even his own high standards. The battles are swiftly paced, and Okamoto holds nothing back in his depiction of graphic violence. Ryunosuke’s battle on a forest path with some disgruntled samurai is a good example of Okamoto’s skill at action scenes. Shots from a variety of different angles show Ryunosuke methodically working through his enemies, cutting them down one at a time. When there are no more enemies left, he stops moving and we see a close-up of his profile, a sadistic smile creeping onto his lips. A classic shot of the forest path, strewn with bodies, follows and we see Ryunosuke, standing motionless in the distance. In a later scene, Okamoto again makes use of snow, as he did in Samurai Assassin. When Toranosuke, a skilled samurai sternly played by Toshiro Mifune, is confronted by a violent group of samurai conspirators, he is forced to fight them on a snow-covered road. In a particularly violent moment, he cuts one of his enemies’ hands off, which we see fall to the ground, and stain the snow.
Ryunosuke (Tatsuya Nakadai) follows the path of cruelty. Sword of Doom directed by Kihachi Okamoto and produced by Sanezumi Fujimoto, Kaneharu Minamizato and Masayuki Sato for Toho Studios.
The scenes in which Ryunosuke goes on a rampage through an inn are among the best ever shot in a samurai film. Believing the ghosts of those he has harmed are haunting him, he sees their looming, shadowy forms on the paper walls surrounding him, and hears them mocking him. Striking at these phantoms, Ryunosuke completely destroys the room. As he slashes through each wall, there is a sharp cry of pain, as if Ryunosuke believes he is really harming these imagined enemies, but they continue to taunt him. These scenes offer a disturbing insight into Ryunosuke’s twisted mind, and lead to an incredibly violent battle scene, in which he’s confronted by the samurai conspirators he is supposed to be a member of.
While Ryunosuke himself is an unsympathetic character, the victims of his violent actions form an emotional connection with the audience. We follow the fortunes of several such characters. Particularly tragic is Ohama, who, having been tricked into sleeping with Ryunosuke, then widowed by him, has to follow him when no one else will accept her. She is tied even closer to him when she bears his child. Faced with Ryunosuke’s cruelty, Michiyo Aratama is particularly good at eliciting our sympathy for Ohama.
Based on the early chapters of a long, serialised novel, Shinobu Hashimoto’s script contains several clever devices. Skilful use of metaphor is woven into both the plot and the dialogue; Ryunosuke uses a cruel form of swordplay where he lures his victims in with a series of feints before delivering a single sudden and devastating blow. His teacher warns him of the dangers of using such a nasty form; a cruel sword leads to a cruel heart. This idea resonates throughout the plot, and forms the core message of Okamoto’s film.
The final scenes of Sword of Doom are frighteningly violent, when Ryunosuke is ultimately driven mad by his cruel deeds, and goes on a violent rampage. The film’s ending is appropriately abrupt and unpredictable.
THE VERDICT
Quite different to most samurai films, Sword of Doom is an entertaining examination of the consequences of cruelty for both the monster and his victims. With Kihachi Okamoto’s talented direction, and a captivating performance by Tatsuya Nakadai, this is a prime example of the high quality of 1960s samurai cinema.
Samurai Rebellion (1967)
Japanese Title: Joi-uchi: Hairyo tsuma shimatsu
Written by: Adapted by Shinobu Hashimoto from the novel by Yasuhiko Takiguchi
Directed by: Masaki Kobayashi
Produced by: Tomoyuki Tanaka, Toshiro Mifune
Edited by: Hisashi Sagara
Cinematography: Kazuo Yamada
Cast: Toshiro Mifune (Isaburo), Tatsuya Nakadai (Tatewaki), Yoko Tsukasa (Ichi), Go Kato (Yogoro), Tatsuyoshi Ehara (Bunzo), Etsuko Ichihara (Kiku), Isao Yamagata (Shobei), Shigeru Koyama (Geki), Michiko Otsuka (Suga)
PLOT SUMMARY
When one of his concubines displeases him, Masakata, daimyo of the Aizu clan, orders that she marry Yogoro, the son of Isaburo, one of his samurai. Isaburo initially refuses, wanting Yogoro to avoid marrying for political convenience, as he did. However, Yogoro convinces his father that the marriage is for the best, and, surprisingly, he and his new wife, Ichi, fall in love and have a child, Tomi. This brings great delight to Isaburo, who till then had been miserable and constantly berated by his nasty wife, Suga. When Masakata’s immediate heir dies unexpectedly, his child with Ichi, Kikuchiyo, becomes the new heir, and Masakata demands that Ichi be returned to him. Isaburo and Yogoro refuse, but Suga and Bunzo, Isaburo’s other son, trick Ichi into returning to the castle, where she is held prisoner. Isaburo is ready to give up, but his friend Tatewaki, a border guard, convinces him not to. Masakata’s chamberlain has Kiku, the wife of a low-ranking samurai, work for Isaburo as a wet nurse so that Tomi doesn’t starve. Yogoro presents a petition for the return of Ichi, threatening to reveal Masakata’s shameful behaviour to the rest of Japan. Masakata sends his steward, who arrives at Isaburo’s house with Ichi, hoping to force them all to declare they are no longer related. Both men refuse, and Ichi responds by seizing a spear and killing herself. The steward’s men attack, and kill Yogoro. Isaburo kills both the steward and his men, and heads for Edo with Tomi, hoping to tell the Shogunate of Masakata’s shameful actions. Tatewaki blocks Isaburo’s progress across the border, and the two agree to a duel, which Isaburo wins. In a final stand, Isaburo is killed by a large group of Masakata’s men. Kiku rescues Tomi, adopting her as her own.
ANALYSIS
Samurai Rebellion is another moving film directed by Masaki Kobayashi, the talented filmmaker responsible for Hara-kiri. As in Hara-kiri, Kobayashi chooses compelling subject matter which elicits an emotional response from his audience.
Like Hara-kiri, Samurai Rebellion tells a story of a man who refuses to adhere to the samurai code of unquestioning obedience, when he and his family are treated in an unjust and disgraceful way by his supposedly honourable superiors. Isaburo’s grievances are utterly justified, having had a beloved daughter-in-law snatched away for purely political reasons. Though not as damning of the samurai code as Hara-kiri, this film does suggest that family is far more important than any code. Like Hanshiro in Hara-kiri, Isaburo is ready to sacrifice all for his family.
Isaburo makes for a very likeable, convincing character. Toshiro Mifune offers another great performance as a man who has given way on so many other matters, but refuses to jeopardise the happiness of the people who are most important in his life. Isaburo takes great delight in the happiness his son has found in married life (something he was never able to achieve), which Mifune conveys most movingly. He convincingly portrays Isaburo’s transition from the unhappy man we meet at the beginning of the film into a much warmer character. His conviction adds weight to later scenes, when the family is in peril.
Samurai Rebellion also contains a memorable performance from the great Tatsuya Nakadai who is both likeable and disturbing as Tatewaki. Carefully limiting his expressions, vocally and facially, Nakadai is a man who carefully considers his actions. He only lets emotion creep into his performance in a few scenes, which consequently have great impact. In many ways Tatewaki is the opposite of Isaburo; where Mifune’s character is emotional and expressive, Nak
adai’s isn’t. It’s a juxtaposition that works well, and results in some entertaining scenes between the two.
As in Hara-kiri, Kobayashi stages some frantic battle scenes. The duel between Isaburo and Tatewaki is a tense and unpredictable exchange of blows; by this point in their careers Mifune and Nakadai were both very experienced at swordplay. The scenes in which Isaburo battles the Aizu clan samurai are also very well constructed; Isaburo grows progressively more fatigued and wounded as he battles on; each time we think he has defeated his enemies, more appear from the thick undergrowth surrounding him, accompanied by the sound of gunshots.
THE VERDICT
Containing a compelling and moving story and perhaps the best ever pairing of stars Mifune and Nakadai, Samurai Rebellion is an indisputable classic of the samurai film genre.
Kill! (1968)
Japanese Title: Kiru
Directed by: Kihachi Okamoto
Written by: Adapted by Akira Murao and Kihachi Okamoto from the novel by Shugoro Yamamoto
Produced by: Tomoyuki Tanaka
Edited by: Yoshitami Kuroiwa
Cinematography: Rokuro Nishigaki
Cast: Tatsuya Nakadai (Genta), Etsushi Takahashi (Hanji), Naoko Kubo (Tetsutaro), Shigeru Koyama (Ayuzama), Akira Kubo (Monnosuke), Seishiro Kuno (Daijiro), Tadao Nakamaru (Shoda), Eijiro Tono (Hyogo), Isao Hashimoto (Konosuke), Yoshio Tsuchiya (Matsuo)
PLOT SUMMARY
A ronin, Hanji, and a yakuza, Genta, meet in an all but deserted town. There they become embroiled in the efforts of a group of seven samurai to wipe out the corruption from their clan. As it turns out, Hanji is in fact a peasant who hopes to become a samurai, and Genta is a ronin, having rejected samurai life by choice, and now travelling in disguise. The seven samurai become trapped in a small building, surrounded by their enemies. Hanji falls in with a group of ronin working for the conspirators, promised samurai status if they succeed in dislodging the seven honest samurai. The clan figure behind the corruption actually plans to kill them all, hoping to remove all evidence of his deeds. Genta reveals this plot to Hanji, who is forced to reconsider his aspirations to join the world of the samurai. Through Genta’s machinations the conspirators are defeated, and Hanji decides that the samurai life is not for him after all.
ANALYSIS
Kill! is an interesting example of the samurai film, one that ventures much further into comedy than other films in the genre. However, combined with the comedy is an effective criticism of the unquestioning obedience of the samurai code. The plot of Kill! is derived from the same novel that inspired Kurosawa’s Sanjuro, but the two films are structured quite differently. Although both concern a ronin assisting a group of samurai against their corrupt superiors, the actual mechanics of the two plots are quite different. Kill! revolves around two swordsmen, Genta and Hanji, and their differing experiences of the samurai lifestyle, rather than focusing on one protagonist, as Kurosawa does in Sanjuro.
The tone of Kill! is very different to director Kihachi Okamoto’s sombre masterpiece, Sword of Doom. Here Okamoto proves his versatility, and despite its darkness, the humour in Kill! is always amusing. The scenes involving the simple and unruly Hanji (Etsushi Takahashi) and his visit to a brothel are hilarious, due to Takahashi’s exuberant performance and Okamoto’s clever use of simple gags. The flamboyant soundtrack also adds much to the overall comedic tone, punctuating humorous scenes with quick beats of music, reminiscent of the great Ennio Morricone.
Similarly, Tatsuya Nakadai is highly entertaining as Genta, the vagabond who is never without a wry response. It’s evidence of his considerable range as an actor: the immensely likeable character he plays here is polar opposite to the cruelty he plays in films such as Yojimbo, Sanjuro and Sword of Doom.
Hanji (Etsushi Takahashi) and Genta (Tatsuya Nakadai); both very hungry. Kill! directed by Kihachi Okamoto and produced by Tomoyuki Tanaka for Toho Studios.
Okamoto’s film is far more than a series of gags. There is a clever interplay throughout, regarding truth and appearance. Right from the beginning of the film, people are not as they seem. Playing with typical samurai film archetypes, many characters are actually disguised, so the character we think we recognise is someone different. This notion of deception is also woven more directly into the film’s plot with the main villain constantly using subterfuge and untruths to his advantage.
Okamoto also criticises the unquestioning obedience of the samurai, but in a far gentler manner than Masaki Kobayashi does in Hara-kiri. Genta’s life has been badly affected by the samurai code, and as he and Hanji become involved in events reminiscent of his past, Genta slowly educates Hanji on the shortcomings of being a samurai. The revelation of Genta’s past acts as a final denouncement of unquestioning obedience, and, in this respect, Kill! is much less sentimental than many samurai films.
The dire results of this compliance, mainly needless violence, are handled well within Kill! As you might expect from such a title, there is plenty of action. The sword fighting is fast and frantic, with plenty of grizzly special effects.
THE VERDICT
Kill! is similar to Sanjuro in its combination of brutal violence and amusing set pieces. However, Kill! exaggerates both these features to new levels, which clearly distinguishes it from Kurosawa’s film. Kill! is thoroughly entertaining, for both those familiar with samurai films and those new to the genre.
Red Lion (1969)
Japanese Title: Akage
Directed by: Kihachi Okamoto
Written by: Sakae Hirosawa, Kihachi Okamoto
Produced by: Toshiro Mifune, Yoshio Nishikawa
Edited by: Yoshihiro Araki
Cinematography: Takao Saito
Cast: Toshiro Mifune (Gonzo), Shiwa Iwashita (Tomi), Etsushi Takahashi (Hanzo), Minori Terada (Sanji), Nobuko Otowa (Oharu), Yuko Mochizuki (Ume), Jitsuko Yoshimura (Oyoo), Kawai Okada (Osode), Shigeru Koyama (Aragaki), Hideo Amamoto (Dr. Gensai), Tokue Hanazawa (Komotora)
PLOT SUMMARY
Gonzo, a peasant, has recently joined the Imperial Force, an army raised by the Emperor to oppose the Shogunate. Promising lower taxes and cancellation of debts, the Imperial Force is having no trouble winning over village after village as they move though Japan. Gonzo, a rather simple but very tough warrior, is bored by all these peaceful conquests, and asks to go on ahead to his home village, which he believes he can easily win over to the Imperial cause. His commander allows this, and even lends Gonzo his red lion headdress, a mane of bright red, to give him authority in his efforts. Arriving in Sawado, Gonzo uses his new authority to release the villagers from a variety of different debts, and free his wife from prostitution, but makes enemies of the local magistrate and yakuza in doing so. There is also a mysterious group of samurai, hoping to protect the interests of the Shogunate. The Imperial Force turns out to be a farce; the promises of lower taxes are false, used to secure the support of the peasants. Gonzo and his wife are both killed by the Imperial troops, which spurs the peasants into action, as they refuse the Imperial Force entry into Sawado.
ANALYSIS
Based loosely on real events in Japanese history, Kihachi Okamoto’s Red Lion is a moving film about the lower classes (in this case, peasants) and their manipulation by those in power. This is among the most anti-authoritarian of Okamoto’s films, which usually focus on flaws within an individual, rather than an institution. While it may sound like heavy viewing, Red Lion is a well-balanced combination of comedy and heart-wrenching tragedy.
Toshiro Mifune’s performance as Gonzo is the key to the success of Red Lion. This is Mifune at his blustering best; in Gonzo, Mifune creates a character who is charming in his energetic enthusiasm and naivety, and the audience cannot help but like him. Arriving in his village of Sawado, Gonzo sets about making trouble for the local authorities, mainly the local samurai policeman (a coward at heart), his deputies and the local extortionists and moneylenders. In a series of highly comedic scenes, Gonzo frees women who have been sold into prostitution by their indebt
ed families and destroys ten years’ worth of recorded peasant debts. However, Gonzo is far more than just a comedic character. Mifune adds extra depth to his performance, in particular when Gonzo is touchingly reunited with his wife and mother after a ten-year absence. Gonzo’s motivations are clearly quite pure; he truly believes in the ‘world renewal’ propaganda spouted by the Imperial Force and wants to make a better life for the peasants and his family.
The emotional investment Mifune forces us to put into his character makes the last quarter of the film all the more tragic. Events take a turn for the worse in Sawado. Hanzo, a ronin staying in Sawado, is proved correct in his cynical attitude to the Imperial Force. As such, the entire film could be seen as cynical, an opinion that’s reinforced by its enthusiastic, comedic beginning and violent, tragic end. The Imperial Force isn’t at all what it promised to be, and some of the film’s most endearing characters die as a result of this betrayal. However, the final moments of the film, sad as they are, are ultimately uplifting because they show what Gonzo was able to inspire in his hometown.
THE VERDICT
Red Lion is an entertaining blend of tragedy and humour, well worth seeing for Mifune’s amusing performance and Okamoto’s moving direction.
Samurai Films Page 8