Samurai Films (17 page)

A common thief is the exact likeness of Shingen Takeda, a powerful daimyo vying for control of Japan. The thief is trained as Shingen’s double, so as to trick his enemies. When Shingen dies from a gunshot, the thief must take his place full time, so Shingen’s enemies do not attempt to take advantage of his death. The thief is reluctant to accept this role, even trying to escape, but is moved by Shingen’s secret funeral to change his mind. He grows bold in the role, becoming close to Shingen’s grandson, Takemaru. Shingen’s son, Katsuyori, becomes tired of pretending this thief is his father. Nobunaga and Ieyasu, rival daimyos, also try to gain control of Japan, first using spies and then an attack on Shingen’s territory to discover whether or not he is still alive. But the double fools them, and they hold off on any further attacks. The illusion is shattered when the double attempts to ride Shingen’s horse, which realises the thief isn’t his master and throws him off. Exposed in front of a large crowd, the double is forced to leave. He finds himself unable to detach from the Takeda family, and watches Shingen’s official funeral from behind a barrier with the other peasants. Katsuyori is now in charge of the Takeda, and he takes the army to attack Nobunaga. Nobunaga defeats the Takeda army with brilliant use of firearms. The double witnesses this and, heartbroken, charges Nobunaga’s troops. He is shot, and dies lying in the water, the abandoned Takeda banner just out of his reach.

Kagemusha
is another compelling film from master director Akira Kurosawa. Using real historical events as his inspiration, he crafts an emotive tale about the perils of adopting another’s identity. What happens to someone who loses their own identity by assuming someone else’s? This is the question Kurosawa explores.

Shingen’s double finds he is unable to distance himself from the Takeda clan, even though he is no longer wanted by them. He has become so involved in Shingen’s life that he cannot return to his own. Kurosawa predicts this through some interesting dialogue from Nobukado, Shingen’s brother who also performed as his double on occasion, and with some skilful uses of cinematic techniques. Among the most memorable is when the double, dressed in Shingen’s full armour, leaves a dimly lit room. His huge shadow looms menacingly above him, showing that he is only a shadow of the real Shingen and will suffer for letting another’s identity obscure his own.

As usual, Kurosawa’s direction creates many memorable images. In some battle scenes, the sky is lit a very dark red and the sight of the samurai commanders silhouetted atop a mountain reflects the bloody fighting going on below them. The film’s final battle, in which Katsuyori completely ruins Shingen’s army, contains a long sequence of the Takeda troops lying dead and wounded in the dirt, victims of Nobunaga’s riflemen. Kurosawa never shies away from showing the true results of warfare, this time in vivid colour.

Tatusuya Nakadai gives a consummate performance as Shingen’s double, switching seamlessly from playing a stern, forthright man, to the timid, more jovial figure. He shows us a man who has lost everything and is denied the one thing he has come to want. Nakadai’s performance is unnerving in its conviction and his ability to elicit sympathy.

A rich, well-directed film that explores a fascinating theme. Highly recommended.

Hidetora, a daimyo who has conquered a large area, wants to retire and announces his intention to abdicate to Taro, his eldest son. His other two sons, Jiro and Saburo, will get a castle each, and are expected to help their brother. Saburo sees the foolishness of this situation; he explains to his father that they will simply end up fighting each other, but Hidetora banishes him for his troubles. Fujimaki, another daimyo, is impressed with Saburo’s honesty and courage and asks him to marry his daughter, an offer which he accepts. Taro’s wife, Kaede, convinces him to assert more authority over Hidetora; this angers Hidetora and he leaves to stay with Jiro, who turns him away on orders from Taro. With nowhere to go, Hidetora and his escort capture a castle held by one of Taro’s generals. Betrayed by two of his samurai, Hidetora is attacked by his two sons and flees into a storm, where he finally succumbs to madness. Jiro has Taro killed, and becomes the new daimyo. Hidetora is found by Tango and Kyoami, his fool, but he has suffered a complete emotional breakdown. Saburo hears of his father’s plight, and arrives with a small force, making it clear that he only wants to take Hidetora away with him. Saburo finds his father and they share a painful reunion. Hidetora finally emerges from his madness, and is content. Jiro betrays Saburo, sending riflemen, who kill him. Upon seeing this, Hidetora dies from grief. Jiro finds himself trapped in his castle, surrounded by rival daimyos, who take advantage of his weakness.

In many ways,
Ran
is a dream come true for fans of samurai films: the most influential director of the genre, Akira Kurosawa, bringing to the screen an epic saga, on a Hollywood-scale budget.

Ran
is a big film. It features big performances from a superb cast, large battles, extensive sets and an epic plot. It is difficult not to get caught up in its grand scale. There are scenes that involve hundreds of extras, all dressed for battle; a castle, built specially for the film, is burned to the ground; and Kurosawa makes use of grand locations, such as the beautiful mountainous terrain at the film’s beginning and the huge empty plain at its end. Such scale comes at a price and it’s easy to see why Kurosawa ran into trouble finishing this film. Fortunately, he persevered. The tone and imagery of
Ran
is luxurious, a feast for the senses. Nonetheless, for those familiar with Kurosawa’s earlier work,
Ran
seems to lack a little of the simplistic brilliance which characterises films such as
Seven Samurai
,
Yojimbo
and
Throne of Blood
.

It is hard to think of any scenes in
Ran
that are as purely entertaining and evocative as the opening scene of
Throne of Blood
but Kurosawa does create some wonderful images: the billowing clouds forming over Hidetora as he makes his fateful decision to abdicate in favour of his sons foreshadow the storm that will come when they betray him; the battle for the castle, accompanied by sombre music, playing over the shots of carnage; Tsurumaru, the blind man, standing completely alone in the battlements of his ruined castle, waiting for his sister, who will never come. Lacking something of the poetry of Kurosawa’s earlier work, such images are beautifully composed, presented in vibrant, arresting colours.

An adaptation of Shakespeare’s
King
Lear
, Kurosawa uses this rich material to its full potential.
Ran
is a compelling examination of a man, Hidetora, who, through his own folly, loses everything he has gained throughout his life. As in
Kagemusha
, Tatsuya Nakadai plays a man descending into madness. Particularly memorable is the scene in which Hidetora, having lost a battle against his two treacherous sons and cornered in a burning castle, walks quietly down the castle stairs, an unchanging look of shock on his face. Fires rage around him, and he is surrounded by his enemies, but Hidetora walks quietly down the stairs and out the gates. Nakadai performs what must have been a difficult scene with complete conviction, and the result is unforgettable. Mieko Harada also offers an unnerving performance as Kaede, a woman seething with hatred. The single-named Peter does very well as Kyoami, Hidetora’s fool, who cannot help but love his master, despite his decisions.

Although lacking some of the poetry of Kurosawa’s earlier films,
Ran
is still a worthy entry to the genre, with a rich plot and some captivating performances. But if you haven’t seen any of Kurosawa’s samurai films, you might do better to start with his earlier work.

Seibei Iguchi is a poor samurai, forced to care for his two daughters and senile old mother alone after his wife dies. Without the proper money for bathing and grooming, Seibei is criticised by his fellow samurai, and given the nickname ‘Twilight’ because he has to hurry home each evening to look after his children. After helping his childhood friend Tomoe escape her abusive husband, the two grow close, but Seibei decides not to marry her because he fears she won’t like his frugal lifestyle. Political turmoil wracks Japan, and many in Seibei’s clan are ordered to commit suicide as the power balance shifts. One such samurai, Zenemon, refuses to do so, and Seibei is ordered to kill him. About to carry out his mission, Seibei realises that he wants Tomoe as his wife, but she tells him she has accepted another proposal. After a bloody duel, Seibei kills Zenemon, and finds Tomoe waiting for him. The two wed, but Seibei dies in a war three years later. Seibei is remembered fondly by his youngest daughter, who knows he lived a full, albeit short, life.

The Twilight Samurai
is a standout samurai film and proof that the genre is alive and well in modern cinema. The film is a simple story told beautifully.
The Twilight Samurai
centres around Seibei, a samurai, and his family, and despite the fact that they’re desperately poor and barely surviving, the scenes of them all together create a warm atmosphere. The scenes’ strength comes from the convincing relationship between Seibei and his daughters, and director Yoji Yamada works hard to emphasise their closeness, showing the family in a variety of simple, day-to-day moments. Seibei appears to be a man before his times; he is a caring single father, encouraging his daughters to learn to read and treating them with kindness and good humour, despite the understandable stress of his domestic situation.

The love story that plays out between Seibei and Tomoe is subtle and touching rather than melodramatic and clichéd, conveying true affection with very little dialogue, through glances and expressions.

The Twilight Samurai
presents one of the most realistic visions of samurai life in the Tokugawa era. Yamada’s preoccupation with the routine life of the samurai adds a level of realism to his film, as we see characters engaged in rather unremarkable activities. Seibei works with several other samurai as a public servant in the food stores of his clan’s castle, keeping track of the supplies. Shots of samurai working at their desks, rather than at war, show the administrative duties that were a large part of most samurai’s lives in the Tokugawa era. Yet when Yamada is required to show violence he does so with startling realism, and Seibei’s battle with the insane Zenemon has to be one of the most convincing in any samurai film. The two flail wildly at each other with their blades, beginning to slow down and limp as wounds and exhaustion take their toll. This plays in stark contrast to the assured duels of so many samurai films, which are over in a few swift strikes.

This marriage of realism and in-depth characterisation is the greatest triumph of Yamada’s film.

The Twilight Samurai
is a touching story bolstered by impressive realism and rounded characterisation. Essential viewing.

Zatoichi, the blind swordsman, arrives at a small town, where residents are troubled by the powerful alliance of two yakuza bosses, Ginzo and Ogi. Zatoichi stays with Oume, a woman who manages a small farm on her own. A ronin named Hattori arrives in town. His wife is ill, and he needs money to treat her, so he takes a job as a yojimbo (bodyguard) for Ginzo. Zatoichi and Shinkichi meet two geishas, Okinu and Osei (actually a man), who have been seeking the men who murdered their parents ten years ago. When Ginzo’s yakuza attempt to cheat him at gambling, Zatoichi attacks them, killing many. Hattori arrives to stop him, but is too late. Meanwhile Okinu and Osei discover that Ogi was one of the men responsible for the murder of their family. A strange figure gives orders to Ginzo and Ogi, telling them he suspects he knows the truth about the two geishas. When the tavern owner discovers where Zatoichi and the geishas are staying, he sends some men, who burn down Oume’s house. Ginzo and Ogi attempt to trap Okinu and Osei, but Zatoichi saves them, killing Ogi in the process. Following Ginzo to the beach, Zatoichi finds Hattori and defeats him in a tense duel. Ginzo flees and is found the next morning drowned in the river. Zatoichi finds the real bosses, Tarakichi the tavern owner, and his waiter, ‘Gramps’. Zatoichi kills Tarakichi and blinds ‘Gramps’, who was Ginzo and Ogi’s boss all along, as punishment for his crimes. With their town finally free of criminals, Oume and the other townsfolk enjoy the festival.