Samurai Rebellion (1967)

“During the powerful Tokugawa regime in Edo, there were 264 lords or daimyo. These feudal lords ruled their clan and the people under them. This story took place in one of these clans in 1725.”

Translation: this infuriating story of injustice is but one little story. The act of defiance displayed herein will be swallowed up in the middle of the Tokugawa regime.

Masaki Kobayashi knows how to film architecture. On the flip side, Japanese architecture knows how to be filmed. I’m unaware of a more photogenic domestic atmosphere than the historic Japanese home. Read most reviews for this movie and you will undoubtedly hear about how Kobayashi provides an onslaught of images that reflect the strict social structure that is the setting for this untidy human story. And yet it cannot be said enough: Samurai Rebellion is visually stunning. It is brimming with shots of pristinely manicured rock gardens and precisely organized homes – thin metaphors for the hierarchal structures and codes that define the lives of their inhabitants. The characters are full of passions – honor, love, loyalty, desire, greed – such fullness plays well within the austerely defined environment. When the physical surroundings and rigid codes intersect with the more emotional side of the characters, things happen: a footprint scars the carefully raked pebbles, a woman is discharged from the castle, a clan is threatened, bonds are broken. And then things get ugly. Somewhere in it all, an improbable love sprouts, trying to take root among the raked courtyards and clan loyalty.

In a complex nutshell: Isaburo Sasahara (Toshiro Mifune) is the head of the Sasahara family and a vassal under Lord Matsudaira (Tatsuo Matsumura). He is on the verge of retiring and making his son the head of the family, but first would like to find a good wife for him. Lord Matsudaira is a real selfish piece of shit. Through his super intendant (who, incidentally, resembles Mr. Burns), he forces a young woman, Ichi (Yôko Tsukasa), to bear him a son. She thinks he’s a disgusting worm, but does it anyway, believing she might spare other girls from the same fate. Once she gives Matsudaira an heir (his second), he moves on to other concubines. Realizing she can never spare other girls the horror of this old man, she resorts to violence and he sends her out of the castle. Matsudaira pressures Isaburo to accept an arranged marriage between his son, Yogoro (Takeshi Katô), and the uncontrollable Ichi. Isaburo does his best to deflect the offer, but is forced to accept it. As it happens, the two make it a happy marriage and it really warms the heart of Isaburo to see his son with such a dutiful wife. His own marriage was arranged, just as Yogoro's, but it was completely void of love. By seeing the happiness between Yogoro and Ichi, Isaburo experiences a new lease on life, no doubt enhanced when Ichi gives birth to a daughter. Lord Matsudaira’s firstborn dies and Ichi’s son becomes the first in line. Matsudaira, following clan rules, asks for Ichi to be returned. That Ichi and Yogoro now have a daughter is of no concern to Matsudaira and though his request is to return her voluntarily, it is clear that a threat of force is not far behind it. Isaburo, Yogoro, and Ichi fret over the prospects. Their decision, of course, will set them at odds with the ruling house, not to mention the rest of the Sasahara family, including Isaburo's wife, that would prefer staying in Lord Matsudaira's favor over the prospect of utter destruction.

The story intensifies when Yogoro's younger brother, Bunzo (Tatsuyoshi Ehara), tricks Ichi into returning to the castle. After discussing matters with Matsudaira's super intendent, she is allowed to leave the castle if both Yogoro and Isaburo will commit seppuku. Obviously, the laws and customs - the requirements of submission - were not working, not on the human level, at least. Each character seems to face a challenge or variety of challenges between the letter of the law and spirit of the code and his or her personal aspirations and desires.

But the problems do not rest solely on The Sasaharas. Lord Matsudaira shoulders a burden, too. The daimyo rules require that the mother of an heir apparent cannot reside in a vassal’s house. Yet, she is married to one of his vassals. If he takes Ichi from his vassal, it could easily outrage the shogunate or the other daimyo – and yet, he cannot afford the insubordination of one of his vassals. Add pride into the mix and do not be surprised when the raked pebbles are soaked in blood.

The film focuses on Isaburo. He is one of Lord Matsudaira's chief retainers, his escort. In the opening of the film, Kobayashi shows us that Isaburo has long since curbed his pride and ambition in order to benefit his estate (ie - fief and family) and serve the Suwa Domain. He has been a henpecked husband for 30 years, knows a thing or two about dealing with the daimyo and his other vassals and, despite it all, is a pretty good-natured, well-meaning creature. He is both prudent and patient. He wants happiness for his son and is very reluctant to accept the arranged marriage - reminding him, as it does, of his own life. But he accepts it. It is isn't until his family is forced to return the bride that he soundly rejects the daimyo's authority.

When Matsudaira is waiting for an answer to an ultimatum (for Isaburo and Yogoro to accept the fate of Ichi), he and his advisers are certain that Yogoro will finally consent to his demands. "Since it would have come to this anyway," he says to his advisers, "how dare they cause all that fuss! Yogoro was wrong, but Isaburo was insolent as well." Thus, we see how the lord views the issue. Yet, Matsudaira realizes some magnitude of the sacrifice he is asking his vassal to bear and decides that upon Yogoro's reply he will increase his fief.

Yogoro arrives and hands a reply, written by Isaburo, to the smiling lord. That smile quickly vanishes. [spoilers here on out] Isaburo and Yogoro decide to throw caution and their family to the wind in a gamble that winds up in near entire annihilation. Yet, by the end of the film, who could begrudge his decision? At no point does Isaburo, who has been prudent and wise, question his decision once he and Yogoro have set their course: not when Ichi dies, not when Yogoro dies, not when he is dying. His entire focus seems to be on the future - though he is well aware of the probable result. Given the un-winnable circumstance, one cannot help but feel that Isaburo's defiance, self-destructive as it is, was nevertheless worth it.

Kobayashi has an anti-authority streak in his work that is often expressed through the prism of the autocratic Tokugawa period. Samurai Rebellion fits right in with the more highly touted Harakiri in that respect. What makes Samurai Rebellion more satisfying over Harakiri, to me, is that while Harakiri is strictly a revenge tale, the dissent in Samurai Rebellion is aimed at achieving happiness - despite the fact that it ends in annihilation.

Samurai month concludes...

...but the training - discovering the "way" while watching piles upon piles of samurai films - will go on. It's been a good month for movies. The staff feels that it has watched great film after great film here in the Liverputty screening room. The pity is that more could not be included in this month's coverage. The glaring omission: only one Kurosawa film was covered. The absence of Mizuguchi's The 47 Ronin and Inagaki's Chushingura was intentional as they will be dealt with in the near future. Also, there was nothing post 1980 - meaning no late Kurosawa, no remake of Zatoichi, and no Twilight Samurai. All reasons that Liverputty should budget another samurai month sometime soon - perhaps we could pencil it in between yakuza week in early April and Familial Piety month in late May. Oh well, future plans are for later. Now is the time to reflect on what we have seen. And what has it taught us?

We learned that Hanzo, the Razor gets an erection when he's in pain. Such is the bushido way.

We learned that the Secret Brotherhood of Asian Cineastes have a plot to besmirch the excellent work of Hiroshi Inagaki. They won't get away with it. Liverputty International will work to expose this secret brotherhood and put a stop to their snobbish ways. Already, we've learned how to identify members of this brotherhood: we know that they dress in black ninja outfits and stay about as far away from women as humanly possible - except for the stray female member within their ranks. We know they reveal themselves when they say "manga."

We learned that a katana can slice through a light-saber.

We learned that when a man with a wooden oar meets a man with a nodachi, the man with the nadachi will be a dead man.

We learned that the Toho logo is a mark of excellence.

We learned that the vacant stare of Tatsuya Nakadai can mean passionate revenge for a horrible occurance, righting a wrong for as a way to redemption, or killing for the sheer relaxation of it.

We learned that the Japanese in the 1970s must have suffered tremendously from high blood pressure given the amount of geysers in Lady Snowblood and Love Wolf & Cub.

We know that Akira Kurosawa is a towering world cimema figure. We learned that there are other major top tier directors making samurai films, too.

We learned that samurai films have more maps, per frame, than any other genre except perhaps war documentaries.

We've learned that Mount Fuji and Toshiro Mifune are the greatest peaks in Japanese cinema. Though that latter has a greater range. Seriously, his range is great - just with playing samurai - not to mention the other half of his career. Only a small handful of other stars compare.

We learned that Asaoka Ruriko is always adorable.

We learned that Japanese films like strategy. They talk about it in the dialogue. They show it on the screen. They integrate it into the story.

Japanese films also like to provide contextual information.

Noh and kabuki are so visually curious that it is impossible not to film them if they are anywhere close to the story.

Quite likely, we will have other samurai movies featured on the site, even though the janitors are still cleaning up after this party. The future entries will find a place on the sidebar along side their bushi brethren.

Sword of Doom (1966)

Shark eyed killer: "Mountain winds. They rise up from deep in the valleys, blowing up the young green leaves. Beyond, all you see are endless mountain ranges that fade far away into the clouds."
Wide-eyed damsel: I saw such a scene once at Daibosatsu Pass.
Shark-eyed killer: Daibosatsu Pass?
Wide-eyed damsel: Do you know the pass?
Shark-eyed killer: Very well.
This man is a real cold murdering son of bitch! His name is Ryunosuke Tsukue and he is ably played by Tatsuya Nakadai. He is a young master at a fencing school and has such a peculiar style of swordsmanship that even his own father, a man of some standing at the same dojo, cannot completely understand it. He is a passive fencer - one who fools his opponent into attacking, but then seizes the opponent's temporary vulnerability and cruelly exploits it. He likes to kill. He's crazy about it. He needs to kill. We will refer to him as the Shark-eyed killer.

What does the world look like in the mind of Shark-eyed Killer?

Well, for starters, he lacks compassion. During one of his “leisurely” strolls up toDaibosatsu Pass, he finds an old pilgrim praying at a shrine, asking Buddha to let him die so that he is not a burden on his young daughter, Omatsu (Yôko Naito, aka Wide-eyed damsel). That’s all the provocation Shark-eyed Killer needs to swing into action. He is a proactive angel of death that is willing to answer the Merciful Buddha’s help line. Killing is a method of relaxation for Shark-eyed Killer.

He answers only to his own appetites. He had a match lined up against Bunnojo Utsuki – a man who, alongside Shark-eyed Killer, had been a student of Instructor Henmi – before Henmi expelled Shark-eyed Killer. Shark-eyed Killer’s father urged him to throw the match because it would be no dishonor for an expelled student to lose but if Bunnojo Utsuki were to lose, then he would no longer be the successor at Kogen Ittoryu school. Basically, it would be bad for everyone if Shark-eyed Killer won the match. But Shark-eyed Killer could care less.

When Bunnojo’s wife, Ohama, pays Shark-eyed Killer a call, he only agrees to throw the match after she forsakes her chastity. That agreement is apparently nullified when Bunnojo finds out and brings a passionate grudge to the match. The judge, upon realizing it is no longer a match, but a duel, calls it off, but Bunnojo tries an illegal tsuki thrust. Shark-eyed Killer parries and scores a fatal blow to the head. That earns him no friends at the dojo and essentially forces him to leave the town. Shark-eyed Killer could care less.The widowed Ohama tags along – though Shark-eyed Killer feels nor shows any pity for her and would simply walk away forever, except that she persistantly follows him. In peculiar Japanese fashion, she clings to the man who killed her husband because she, quite frankly, has nowhere else to go. The Princess Yufu did a similar thing in Samurai Banners when she became the concubine of the man that murdered her father. At first Ohama is resentful, but through the passage of time a pragmatic devotion/dependence develops. That doesn't quite happen in Sword of Doom, when Ohama's hatred toward Shark-eyed Killer sparks a fight that causes him to roll his dead eyes back and do what comes naturally.

He likes to do what comes naturally to him. If you had a relative in Japan that was killed around 1860-63, it is pretty likely that Shark-eyed Killer was the culprit. Such is the body count in this film.

Shark-eyed Killer goes to Edo and becomes an assassin. His travels take him by the dojo of Toranosuke Shimada (Toshiro Mifune). Shark-eyed Killer asks to become a pupil. Shimada responds that there are rules regarding strangers seeking instruction. He must face one of the students. Shark-eyed Killer asks to fight the man he over-heard a moment ago make the excellent doh attack.

“You can tell a doh attack just by listening?” Shimada says in a surprised voice.

As it happens, the man is Hyoma Utsuki, the younger brother to Bunnojo (the fellow that got divorced and killed on the same day). As the two square off, Shimada senses this is no ordinary fencer. He watches closely and is quick to end that match after the first blow. Hyoma protests, but Shimada says the stranger won with a kote attack.

Yet, he still refuses to instruct Shark-eyed Killer, who then challenges Shimada. But Shimada brushes off the request, saying slyly “I’m not good at doh attacks.”

Hyoma Utsuki is destined to avenge his brother, though he is simply no match for Shark-eyed Killer. He gets some sage advice from Shimada who tells the young fencer there is no way he can defeat Shark-eyed Killer. He tells Hyoma to stay in the dojo and practice the one move that will defeat Shark-eyed Killer: the tsuki thrust.

“Your brother probably tried it against him, too. But if it is done poorly, he'll turn it against you in one final blow. From now on, work only on how the tsuki thrust can defeat him.”

Shark-eyed Killer, though, will not be deprived from seeing Shimada’s skill. On a snowy night, later in the story, the assassin gang that Shark-eyed Killer is with mistakenly follows Shimada’s palanquin and tries to assassinate him, thinking it was somebody else. Shark-eyed Killer witnesses Shimada’s skill and is left trembling and speechless. Shocked, like a Great White that has been punched in the nose. Thus, it is possible to spook Shark-eyed Killer, but only if you are Toshiro Mifune.

Shimada’s no fool, and realizes that after his display, Shark-eyed Killer is doubting his own skill.

The film goes on to a curious non-conclusion conclusion. The story was based on a serialized novel by Kaizan Nakazato which started in 1913 and ran several decades. Evidentally Toho planned on following it up with subsequent films but those never materialized. As with Musashi and the 47 Ronin, this story has been made countless times, including a two film set by Inagaki in 1936. The bizarre finale in this version, ending in mid-slaughter, is really the most memorable thing about the picture, which is saying a lot as it has an excellent cast and is stylishly composed and directed by Kihachi Okamoto.Seriously, it seems that every shot would make a distinguished still photo. There is a lot of variation going on visually. When Shark-eyed Killer beds Utsugi's wife in the mill, Okamoto makes sure that the pounding mill hammers are in almost every frame, to the point of absurdity. Later, when Shark-eyed Killer is leaving the town after killing Utsugi, Okamoto films the forest so soft that you'd expect to come across some players doing A Midsummer Night's Dream. You don't of course. Instead you follow Shark-eyed Killer down the forest path - one of his leisurely walks, you might say - where he takes out dozens of men in a veritable gauntlet of relaxation. After the last man collapses, Okamoto's camera closes in on Shark-eyed Killer's face and we see what really gives him ecstacy - Hans Beckert style.Okamoto films the sword fight with Mifune's character, Shinada, in a completely different manner. First, the setting is no longer a misty forest scene, but a heavy snow - exaggerated by the use of zoom lenses. Shinada does not wallow in the pleasures of killing. Rather, he fights heroically. Okamoto's camera is therefore more direct and frantic (though the camera itself is not jerky). He films Shinada running back and forth, in the middle of the gang of assassins, methodically taking the men out with an awesome sense of command. At the end of the fight, far from showing Shinada having a satisfied orgasmic countenance, he is angry that he was forced to kill against his will. Shark-eyed Killer is deadly as hell, but he is not a magnificent man like Shinada.The final sequence becomes stagey and abstract. What starts out as a psychotic nightmare, in which shadows of Shark-eyed Killer's victims haunt him, next turns into an existential slaughter when Shark-eyed Killer (whom we should now simply call Batshit Crazy) starts lashing out at all the men trying to stop the mad man. It seems to go on forever. Just when you think Shark-eyed Killer might collapse and die... when he is using his katana as a crutch...you find that he suddenly killed three more men. Until, the end.This film is bracing in its violence. There is some blood, though nothing like the geysers in later samurai pictures. The attitude of the main character is the real disturbing aspect - but that does not translate into the attitude of the picture. Shinada is a counter-balance to the soulless existence of Shark-eyed Killer, though, not having read the story, I am not sure how his character would have played out in subsequent films. This is not a film for everyone and does not have the carthartic release of other samurai films (and if you think it does, please seek help immediately), but it is a must for anyone who particularly enjoys the genre. To me, at least, it really marks the end of the middle stage of samurai films (from 1961's Yojimbo up to about 1966 or 67), before the gore got harder to clean up.

Samurai Thought for the Day #3

One of the most obvious differences I’ve noticed between the earlier samurai films from the mid-fifties to the middle period of samurai films in the mid-sixties is the addition of exaggerated slashing and slicing sounds during the fight scenes. In no small way this “style” became a distraction to some otherwise fine films. To me, at least, listening to the exaggerated sound effects is like listening to the lifeless synthesized drums of so much 80s music or the silly slapping sounds in a poorly dubbed kung fu movie. Except for very rare instances, these sounds are a put-off from the overall production. What were the filmmakers thinking? Were audiences so jaded by the more realistic sound effects that this was a way to artificial instill a sense of excitement?

Hiroshi Inagaki and Samurai Banners (1969)

Hiroshi Inagaki is a name that needs to be shouted from more mountain tops. Sadly, his filmology is inadequately accessible in the U.S. Both Wagstaff and I have already sung his praises over the Samurai Trilogy (1954-6), which represents half of what is available on DVD under Inagaki’s name and stands besides The Seven Samurai as an early perfection of form. The other films, Chushingura (1962), Samurai Banners (1969) and, Incident at Bloodpass, are all exciting fresh films in their own rights.

What is not available from his filmology is a laundry list of great sounding titles that hopefully have some availability in Japan and perhaps subsequently in the U.S. Inagaki started directing for Toho in his early twenties around 1928. Throughout the 30s and 40s he did numerous period film trilogies including a previous series about Musashi in 1940-2. Other intriguing titles include: Last Days of Edo (1941) – perhaps an early disaster film?; Signal Fires of Shanghai (1944) – pertaining to the occupation?; Pirate Ship (1951) – with Toshiro Mifune, this sounds like prime action fodder; Conclusion of Kojiro Sasaki: Duel on Ganryu Island (1951) – this film seems to be part 3 of the Musashi story but as a stand alone (with Mifune playing Musashi); Vagabonds in a Country at War (1952) – sounds like a war film with two love triangles…or would that be a love hexagon?; etc. After the Samurai Trilogy, Inagaki made a two film series called (and I paraphrase) the Secret Yagyu Scrolls (1957-8), again with Mifune. No doubt, this series has some good ninja action. Inagaki went on to make dozens more samurai films, a good piece with Mifune, before we get to the charted end of his career: Samurai Banners and Incident at Bloodpass.

Let’s focus on Samurai Banners.This is a large complex story about a peripheral civil war following the Gempei War and the period of unification that ultimately leads to major unification figures like Nobunaga Obu and Ieyasu Tokugawa. This is not a beer movie – and there are plenty of expositive titles and dates and battle maps and like stuff as you would find in films like Midway or Battle of the Bulge. It is artfully and clearly done and should not intimidate the casual viewer. Just be forewarned that it is, in part, a history lesson as well as a compelling character study of its central figure, Kansuke Yamamoto (Toshiro Mifune).

Kansuke is a brilliant strategic thinker – coldly calculating, ruthless, deceitful and fiercely loyal to his vision. The film makes no apologies or fronts for Kansukes treachery, nor does it take away from his majesty. When he is first introduced in the film, he is in the process of a well thought out but cruel double-cross that leads him down the road towards becoming Lord Takeda’s main strategy man. As Lord Takeda describes him, with a thankful smirk playing across his mouth, Kansuke is a “terrifying man.” On the one hand he’s the best strategist you have and you are glad he is on your side, on the other hand, his cruelty is an uneasy method to that very success.

In the west, such a dichotomy is something for a film to fret over, but this film leaves the fretting to the audience and shows us everything including his humility, loyalty and compassion without apologies or condemnation. And that goes for the other characters as well. Key figures are shown doing horrible things or having tragic things happen to them that would surely paint their characters entirely in other films, but here those things merely mark a certain passage of time – being baggage they carry throughout, but also a episode that they managed to overcome or get beyond. By the end of the film, characters you thought you would hate because of earlier crimes, you find yourself admiring in light of their virtues and vices.

And yet, as I mentioned, it is an epic movie about one domain expanding its reach over neighboring domains in an effort to become a unifying national power. The domain in question is Kai, and it is ruled by the Takeda Clan. We are not sure of Kansuke’s origins, though he seems to be a ronin of some sort, but we know how he infiltrates the ranks of the House of Takeda and we see him vow to make “Lord Takeda of Kai, the mightiest Lord in the nation.”What we don’t yet know is that he is playing a multi-dimensional game of long-term chess that is light years ahead of his adversaries. Events are happening outside of Kai. The Princess Nene, wife to Lord Harunobu of Suwa, but of Takeda lineage, was a key political tie between the two domains (Kai and Suwa). But she died and now Kai is facing the threat that Suwa may ally itself with Lord Murakami of Northern Shinano…something that jeopardizes Kai’s security. As one adviser describes the situation with Kai’s other neighbors:

“Lord Hojo of Odawara…..and Lord Imagawa of Suruga….these two are not only related to you [Lord Takeda], they’re bound to you by treaties. Lord Saito Dosan of Mino is blocked by these treacherous mountains…so, obviously he won’t be able to move east toward us. East, west and south….if those three directions pose no threat…then we’ll strike North [Suwa]…This is our only chance to attack Suwa in Shinano.”

So Lord Takeda amasses an army of 20,000 and leads it into Suwa and prepares to attack Takashima Castle. Until Kansuke persuades Lord Takeda to negotiate a generous surrender, thus reaffirming ties with Suwa. But, though accepting the surrender, Lord Harunobu of Suwa does not necessarily intend to stay shackled to Kai. In a pandering show of friendship and familial bonds (through the deceased Princess Nene), Harunobu visits Lord Takeda of Kai three times in a month. This makes Lord Takeda and Kansuke uneasy and as a result, Lord Harunobu will not return from his third visit. Kansuke, believing the frequent visits from Harunobu are to obligate a return visit from Lord Takeda, where Takeda will be vulnerable to assassination, urges Takeda to pre-emptively assassinate Harunobu. After Lord Harunobu is killed, Suwa eventually takes Takashima Castle. Through a stroke of fortune, Princess Yu, Lord Harunobu’s father, is captured by Kansuke’s men. Kansuke loves her but is forced by Lord Takeda to hand her over to be his lord's concubine, a particularly humiliating circumstance given that Takeda pretty wiped out the rest of her family. However, there is a silver lining to the misfortune and Kansuke urges Princess Yu to provide an heir for Takeda, thus cementing the bond between Suwa and Kai and ensuring that that her family's blood endures. That all happens in the first hour – the story continues to develop in the remaining 100 minutes.

The new young prince, Katsuyori Takeda, is the figure you would most likely run across in a general history of Japan. He was part of the opposition to Oda Nobunaga’s unification efforts in the latter part of the 16th century. Nobunaga eventually defeated and executed Katsuyori. Katsuyori’s death would mark the end of the Takeda Clan in its 28th generation. But the film takes place several decades before that, when the Takeda Clan gained control of the four domains it would have when it threatened Nobunaga and Ieyasu Tokugawa. Thus, this grand epic is but a supporting subplot in a larger event of Japanese history.

Mifune’s performance is stellar as always. How he can sit cross legged on a tatami floor wearing a kimono and yet look completely different from role to role is beyond me. In this film, he sports a gimp leg and a nasty crescent shaped scar on his face. Though crippled, he is nevertheless deadly and menacing. He wears a shiny black helmet with horns that makes him look half hero, half Darth Lord. When he holds up the newborn Katsuyori and declares his complete devotion, he is scary in that he is so intense that he may harm the newborn, and yet, he is comforting because you know that kid will be under Kansuke’s able protection.Inagaki’s direction is also markedly different than his other available movies might suggest. He shows that he is perfectly at home with wide screen compositions. Inagaki is a frequent user of slow unobtrusive tracking shots that pack a lot of information into single frames in a very fluid manner. And yet, he can provide a jarring shot meant to wow the audience. There is a particularly impressive, if somewhat jerky, shot of an army of 22,000 moving from a village through the mountains. Inagaki must have shot this from a plane and then slowed it down – as opposed to shooting it from a helicopter. But whatever the method, it superbly captures the moment and scene in an omniscient manner that has more direct parallels in other mediums outside film, like a large diorama or one of those magnificent cylcoramas you would see at Gettysburg, where the viewer can see everything in scope and detail in a collapsed space of time. This isn’t a bird’s eye view so much as a deity’s eye view. It is through shots like this that Inagaki manages to balance a riveting personal story with the broad scope of the story. Often, in other similar epics, the personal stories feel tacked on as “color” for the dry facts of the events – but here, the personal story drives the larger events. The two are one. Certainly, other great and even better films do this as well, but I say it here and about this movie, Samurai Banners, to inform the reader that it is a film of considerable accomplishment.

The score is also excellent. It is so western at times that you wonder if it is a western. It is the kind of energetic and charging orchestral sound track that is needed to carry such a long film. It will get pleasantly stuck in your head the next day. And low and behold, the film has an intermission. Most films should never even think about running over two hours long – but for the epic, you might as well go as long as it takes to finish the job. And when you exceed two and a half hours, at least have the decency to include an intermission. Structure the movie so that the audience can get their second wind. Samurai Banners honors this “way”.

Samurai Thought for the Day #2

A lot of samurai pictures take place right before or during the Tokugawa period (1600 to 1867). The ukiyo-e print above depicts a much earlier period from the Heike war (1180s). The top image reminds me of the screen shot I posted at the beginning of the samurai posts, which was from the interestingly staged film, Kwaidan. Aside from Kwaiden and Men Who Tread the Tiger's Tale, I'm hardpressed to think of other films that cover this same earlier period. I'm positive they exist - just maybe harder to find on DVD in the U.S. - there's just too much material for film-makers to resist - great sea battles, lots of juicy politics, moving child emperors to and fro, armies pillaging Kyoto. More films about this era need to be accessible to American audiences!

Samurai works in process:

I'm still working on something for Inagaki's 1969 film, Samurai Banners. This film doesn't get a lot of attention, but it's damn good. I'm not sure what the secret Brotherhood of Asian Cineastes would say - but Inagaki is a top tier Japanese director - up there with Kurosawa and Ozu - even if he is more of a studio workhorse. And Toshiro Mifune is excellent. The style of Samurai Banners is completely different than the 1970 Inagaki/Mifune film, Incident at Bloodpass.

I'm also tempted to post something on Samurai Spy - which I recently saw and found very entertaining, if the ninja dressed in white did look a bit silly.

I'd mentioned before about doing some posts on Kill!, Sword of Doom, and Harakiri. But I'm not sure I will cover all those and might save a couple of them for a later date. Nor will we be touching on Inagaki's great Chushingura or any of the 47 Ronin remakes. Those I may save for The Loyal 47 Month! They are all classic movies and deserve attention - but this samurai month is simply not intended to be comprehensive. Or if it was, then I am losing the steam to see it through. And we mustn't forget Samurai Month 2008, right?

Anyway, there should be a few more posts going up this weekend.

Until then, here are a couple of other ukiyo-e prints for this site:

One from the Set of 108 Heroes of the Suikoden Series (ca 1827)


Chûshingura, the Treasury of Loyal Retainers:
The People Involved in the Night Attack (1845-186)

Lone Wolf and Cub

Lone Wolf puts the Extreme in Extreme Samurai
The competition is not to be sneezed at.....or is it?
At times it feels more like a scene from On Her Majesty's Secret Service, what with the armies of skiiers and all, than a samurai film...his name is Wolf, Lone Wolf.
Surely this is some Japanese version of SPECTRE....
....with ninja tendencies
Katanas are about to be drawn. Wolf will soon be making loud slashing sounds, cutting through men like so many tomatoes....
Odie's Shogun Assassin discusses the amount of blood in the Lone Wolf movies so we do not have to here....
Now the scene shifts from On Her Majesty's to the From Russia With Love boat chase.
And the movie goes on....