Samurai Films (12 page)

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.

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.

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.

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 indebted 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.

Red Lion
is an entertaining blend of tragedy and humour, well worth seeing for Mifune’s amusing performance and Okamoto’s moving direction.

A ronin named Kansuke Yamamoto uses considerable guile and cunning to secure a position with Shingen Takeda, a powerful daimyo. Kansuke helps Shingen defeat one of his rivals, Suwa, by making overtures of peace, then having the man killed when he visits Shingen’s castle. When Shingen marches on Suwa’s lands, Kansuke finds Yu, Suwa’s daughter, who he takes into his own home. Shingen takes Yu as his concubine, much to his wife Sanjo’s distaste. Yu resents being a concubine, but Kansuke convinces her she must, so that she can bear a son to Shingen, and the Suwa and Takeda blood can be combined. Yu does have a son by Takeda, named Shiro. Kansuke grows very close to them both, and manipulates matters so that Shiro becomes Takeda’s heir. With his ingenious use of tactics, Kansuke helps Shingen defeat many of his rivals. As more battles take place, a showdown with Kenshin Uesugi, Shingen’s most powerful rival, becomes more and more inevitable. Kansuke prepares a castle where he believes the battle will take place, hoping that Shiro will be old enough to command when it does. Kenshin arrives with a large army, and Kansuke wants to stay in the castle, luring Kenshin into a trap. However, Shingen insists on a direct attack, which Kansuke plans. For the first time, his tactics are ineffective, and Kenshin very nearly kills Shingen. Kansuke dies in the battle, and Shingen mocks him, saying he was blinded by his love for Yu and Shiro.

The last of Hiroshi Inagaki’s historical films,
Samurai Banners
was filmed on a suitably grand scale. A great example of an epic historical film, it tells the story of Takeda Shingen, a daimyo who actually lived and is famous for his many conquests during feudal Japan’s long succession of civil wars. Interestingly, this film fits together quite well with Kurosawa’s Kagemusha, which details Takeda’s death and the fate of the Shingen clan.
Samurai Banners
is concerned with some of Takeda’s most famous battles, and the ruthless samurai who helped him win them, Kansuke Yamamoto.

What stands out most about this film are the lavish battle scenes, achieved through the use of large numbers of extras, all immaculately costumed and armed. Inagaki is no stranger to directing large-scale battle scenes, and doesn’t fail to deliver in this film. The battles are well edited, and seem realistic, an admirable quality in an historical film. Inagaki creates a sense of the confusion of warfare, filling the frame with extras, all flailing wildly at each other, desperately trying to stay alive. We see some magnificent sights – rousing cavalry charges, and huge infantry clashes – and, as usual, Inagaki should be commended for his grasp of epic subject matter. Some of the battle scenes are more reminiscent of the over-the-top style of combat seen in the
Lone Wolf
and Cub
series: the scene in which three soldiers carry a huge blade, and run in a circle, creating something like an enormous blender, is highly entertaining. Fortunately, such scenes do not detract from the epic feel of the entire film.

The lives of Shingen and Kansuke make for interesting viewing, whether you’re familiar with the history or not. Both men demonstrate the level of ruthlessness which must have been necessary for a samurai to succeed in such uncertain times. While this is refreshingly realistic, it also makes it difficult for the audience to actually like them. Kansuke, who is clearly supposed to be a sympathetic character, in particular suffers from this. Despite a skilled performance by Toshiro Mifune, it is difficult to feel sorry for Kansuke at the film’s conclusion, when he has shown so little regard for human life. As such,
Samurai Banners
is not as moving as other Inagaki’s
Samurai Trilogy
and
The 47 Ronin
.

Not as touching as Inagaki’s other work,
Samurai Banners
contains some epic battle scenes and a compelling story lifted from the pages of Japan’s turbulent history. If you’re in the mood for a larger-than-life tale, then this is the film for you.

The popularity of samurai films lasted into the 1970s, although the genre started to lose ground to the increasingly popular yakuza (gangster) films.