Samurai Films (9 page)

The 47 Ronin
is a true classic of the samurai film genre, and captures the very essence of the samurai ideal. Based on historical events, which have become legendary through numerous retellings,
The 47 Ronin
is a story of total loyalty and dedication.

The story of the 47 loyal ronin is a traditional tale in Japan, and one which Japanese audiences in 1962 would have been very familiar with, in much the same way that archetypical stories such as
Romeo and Juliet
are immediately recognisable to western audiences. As such,
The
47 Ronin
can be a bit confusing to those unfamiliar with the traditional stories. There are lots of characters and subplots, all variously linked to the central story of the ronin. Don’t be at all surprised if you find it difficult to remember who certain characters are; many are only introduced very briefly. This is not a fault in the film; Japanese audiences would have no problem following the story, simply because they already know it. Don’t be too concerned about following the various subplots first time round; the central story is the most important, and is a rewarding viewing experience all of its own. With subsequent viewings, the subplots become easier to follow, and make
The 47 Ronin
an even more enriching film.

Having said this, the film’s basic plot is a moving experience, and shows the best side of the samurai’s dedication and loyalty. The hardships the ronin suffer, and the sacrifices they are prepared to make, all for the sake of their dead lord, are truly amazing, and make for compelling viewing. Chamberlain Oishi makes the biggest sacrifice of all: in order to fool his enemies, Oishi divorces his wife and adopts the life of a lazy playboy, much to the scorn and ridicule of many other ronin. It’s particularly moving when Oishi hears of the death of one of the ronin; struggling to contain his emotions he continues to party in a brothel, sad that his friend has died, but unable to show it. Another of the ronin, Okano, makes a similarly difficult sacrifice: he courts Otsuya, the sister of a carpenter, in order to get the plans to Kira’s new house. When Okano realises he actually loves the girl, he grows to despise himself for using her, but does so anyway, and secures the plans. The manner in which these men put aside all their personal concerns to pursue their just cause is a perfect representation of the unwavering loyalty of the ideal samurai.

Director Hiroshi Inagaki gives this story the epic treatment it deserves, taking us inside lush mansions and palaces, and, as always, making use of beautiful Japanese landscapes. Having already told the epic story of master swordsman Miyamoto Musashi, Inagaki has the right experience to make the best of such larger-than-life material. The battle at the end of the film is magnificent; the 47 ronin fight their way through Kira’s mansion in a series of beautifully choreographed fight scenes, which not only look fantastic, but are also extremely convincing.

A classic film, although potentially confusing to non-Japanese audiences. Don’t make this your first samurai film; Inagaki’s
Samurai Trilogy
or Kurosawa’s
Yojimbo
are much better places to start. However, if you like the genre, and want to see what bushido really meant, then make sure to watch
The 47 Ronin
.

In recent times many impoverished ronin have arrived at clan mansions, and requested to commit ritual suicide in their grounds, claiming that they can no longer endure their impoverished lifestyles. Yet most have no desire to kill themselves, knowing full well that the clans will give them money simply to be rid of them. This presents a problem for the clans, who see this as a form of extortion. When Motome, a young ronin, requests to commit suicide in the Iyi mansion, rather than simply deny the request or give him money, Kageyu, the clan counsellor, has his samurai force the young man to commit hara-kiri, even refusing his request for a two-day postponement. As if this isn’t bad enough, they make him use the bamboo sword he carries; he is so poor he has sold his blades. This is all done to preserve the honour of the Iyi clan and deter other ronin. Motome had a sick child, and needed money for medicine – he was only driven to performing the hara-kiri scam by the most extreme circumstances.

The film revolves around Hanshiro, father-in-law of Motome. Himself a ronin, Hanshiro realises he is most happy when he has no superiors and is with his family. He praises his son-in-law for his brave actions, and curses his own stupidity for not selling his swords. Hanshiro exposes the hypocrisy of the Iyi by also requesting to commit hari-kiri within their castle grounds. He has previously removed the top knots of the three retainers most involved in Motome’s enforced suicide. According to the samurai code this is a grave dishonour, and can only be atoned by hara-kiri. Hanshiro requests that these men assist with his suicide, but two of them hide in their homes, waiting for their hair to re-grow, demonstrating the same cowardice they accused Motome of. Kageyu has his men attack Hanshiro, and he fights bravely, eventually succumbing to the Iyi’s guns. With Hanshiro dead, Kageyu sets about concealing the entire incident, something he does so well that the Iyi clan is praised for its handling of the ronin.

Hara-kiri
is a tremendous film, and among the most moving and honest of the samurai genre. Director Masaki Kobayashi, famous for films which explored the downtrodden, makes clear here the potential for the inhumane cruelty inherent in the samurai code. This is in stark contrast to many other samurai films, which portray the harsh lifestyle of the samurai in a positive light.

Kobayashi shows the propensity of the samurai for senseless cruelty through the actions of the Iyi clan. Their inhuman treatment of Motome is done entirely to preserve the good name of their clan, and this, in essence, is the fault in the samurai philosophy that Kobayashi is drawing our attention to; reputation should never be a justification for cruelty, and is far less important than the ethical treatment of human beings. This is also highlighted through the character of Hanshiro, who comes to realise that those he loves are far more important than the social standing he has lost.

The story of Hanshiro and Motome is moving, and the audience cannot help but feel for their plight. Yet, Kageyu and the Iyi learn nothing from these sad events; the hiding retainers are also forced to commit hara-kiri, and the entire incident is concealed in the clan records. The Iyi are even praised for the way they dealt with the situation. This shows the stubborn and unbending nature of the samurai code, which ultimately only history was able to defeat.

This frank and unyielding plot is effectively rendered by Kobayashi’s skilled direction, and some robust performances. The film abounds with memorable scenes and images. The scene in which Motome is forced to cut his stomach open with a bamboo blade is harrowing in its brutality; we see Motome trying to force the blunt object into his chest many times, finally succeeding when he puts his full weight on it. Akira Ishihama convincingly conveys the agony and desperation, which in its gory explicitness conveys the cruelty of the Iyi samurai. The battle between Hanshiro and the Iyi samurai is very well realised, and more realistically than in many other samurai films. It is clear that Hanshiro won’t survive against so many enemies, and he becomes progressively more injured and fatigued as the battle progresses. His duel with Hikokuro is also of the highest quality, filmed in long grass on a windy day with the constantly shifting grass creating a moody backdrop. Many highly evocative and symbolic single frames pepper
Hara-kiri
, such as the large Iyi clan crest, splattered in blood during Hanshiro’s battle with the Iyi samurai.

Hanshiro (Tatsuya Nakadai) battles the Iyi samurai.
Hara-kiri
directed by Masaki Kobayashi and produced by Tatsuo Hosoya for Shochiku Studios.

 

Tatsuya Nakadai delivers one of his best performances as Hanshiro, and skilfully shows a wide range of emotions. We see Hanshiro at several different stages of his life, and Nakadai presents them all with complete conviction. The sensitivity of Nakadai’s performance imbues the scenes where he happily plays with his grandson with a touching quality, and makes the events which befall his family all the more tragic. In contrast, Nakadai’s portrayal of the later Hanshiro, who, having lost everything, is disturbingly morose and inexpressive, creates a character that’s both sympathetic and slightly disturbing. Nakadai’s performance in this film is rightly hailed by many as one of the greatest of the samurai film genre.

The stark honesty of
Hara-kiri
exposes a side of the samurai code ignored by many other samurai films. With a moving plot, a classic performance by Tatsuya Nakadai and assured direction by Masaki Kobayashi, it’s a captivating film. Not only for samurai film fans,
Hara-kiri
is an example of cinema at its best.

Zatoichi, the blind master swordsman, grows tired of his violent lifestyle, and resolves to lead a peaceful life. He meets with Banno, the ronin who taught him swordsmanship, and stays in his village for some time. Banno is a respected teacher, but he is secretly involved with the Tengu group, a gang of fugitive ronin. His main concern, however, is ensuring that his sister, Yoyoi, marries into a rich family so he can regain a little of his lost status. Banno and the Tengu gang hatch a plot to kidnap one of his students, who has a wealthy father. They are successful and arrange to collect the ransom. Zatoichi and Yoyoi’s relationship develops, and the two wish to marry. They ask Banno’s permission, but he flies into a rage, refusing to let Yoyoi marry someone of such low status. Humiliated, Zatoichi leaves. He also discovers Banno’s plot. The next morning, the Tengu group set out to collect their ransom. They are intercepted by Zatoichi who kills them all. Banno, meanwhile, kills the father of his pupil, stealing the ransom money, which he plans to use to buy a lavish wedding for Yoyoi. Zatoichi confronts Banno and narrowly defeats him in a tense battle, witnessed by Yoyoi. Realising that he will never escape violence, Zatoichi continues his nomadic lifestyle, leaving Yoyoi behind.

New Tale of Zatoichi
, the third entry in the Zatoichi series, is an involving film that brings a new dimension to the blind swordsman. In this sad tale, Zatoichi is forced to consider the morality of his lifestyle, a lifestyle he is ultimately unable to escape.

The film’s production values are much higher than the first two. Clearly Daiei were prepared to spend a lot more on this film, based on the success of previous Zatoichi episodes.
New Tale of Zatoichi
benefits from vibrant colours and smooth pans, and, in many ways, heralded the quality production values, emotional stories and large helpings of yakuza carnage that the series would go on to deliver.

These improved production values bring to life a script of a high standard, which in turn is supported by Shintaro Katsu’s emotive performance. It is Zatoichi’s attempt to change his violent lifestyle which is the most compelling and dramatic aspect of Kan Shimozawa and Minoru Inozuka’s story. Katsu has no trouble grasping these new elements of Zatoichi’s character. He portrays the blind swordsman’s hopes for a nonviolent lifestyle, his joy when he thinks he has found it, and his anger and sadness when it is taken away from him, with such conviction and integrity that only the hardest of viewers could fail to be touched by his plight. The scenes between Zatoichi and Yoyoi are played at just the right dramatic level to elicit audience sympathy.