Category: action

Categories
action jidai-geki

“Seven Samurai”

Kurosawa Akira’s 1954 epic Seven Samurai (Shichinin no samurai) is a classic film highlighting some of the best action seen in the jidai-geki films.  It is a classic example of  Japanese film and, more precisely, a chambara, or film based upon the samurai, with extensive sword fighting and action.  Many popular actors of the day are in the film, including Shimura Takashi who plays the leader of the group of seven samurai.  Shimura also worked with Kurosawa on other popular Japanese films like Yojimbo.  Another prominent cast member is Mifune Toshirô who, like Shimura, worked with Kurosawa on many other occasions.  Kurosawa not only directed this film, but he is also the main writer of the story, which allowed him to fully execute his vision of what the story should be.

The film takes place at the end of the warring states period in the years 1587-1588.  At this time there were a lot of samurai who found themselves without a lord to serve.  These samurai were called ronin, and despite not being as affluent as their class had once entitled them to be they still had the rights of a samurai.  For instance, a samurai would be well within his rights to cut a peasant down if they displeased him in any way.  The film starts off when a village that has come under siege from bandits in the past learns that they will be the focus of another bandit raid once their barley is ripe for harvest.  This discovery leads the villagers to discuss what to do with their newfound knowledge.  The discussion in the village center varies from ideas of mass suicide, to surrender, when finally they decide to consult with the village elder.  The elder tells of similar situation in his youth where the only village who survived was the village that hired samurai.  After this a select few of the villagers head out hoping to recruit samurai to fight for their cause.

This task is much harder than the villagers anticipated and they are on the edge of giving up when we are introduced to a sagely character in the form of Shimada Kanbê (Shimura Takashi).  Shimada agrees to help the villagers and aides them in recruiting six more samurai in order to assist the villagers.  Once the samurai arrive back at the village they are given less than a warm welcome; in fact, all of the villagers are hiding from them!  While the select villagers were off recruiting the samurai, the village became paranoid that the samurai would ravish their women.  As a result, they end up treating the samurai like bandits until one of the samurai, Kikuchyo (Mifune Toshirô), sounds a false alarm to which all of the villagers appear and beg for the samurai’s help.  After this point the villagers work with the samurai in order to prepare for the coming siege.

Seven Samurai is very well-cast with the actors who play the lead characters providing an enduring and engaging performance.  One finds oneself rooting for the samurai and bonding with individual characters.  Actors like ShimuraTakashi in his portrayal of a warworn samurai who has seen it all yet still will fight for what is righteous lend themselves brilliantly to a classic tale of good versus evil.  Another actor whose performance is excellent is Mifune Toshirô.  Mifune plays Kikuchiyo, a loud and boisterous member of the samurai group.  Kikuchiyo seems to be a reference to the Aragoto players of the Kabuki stage. Aragoto is a style made popular by the Danjûrô line of actors where the lead male wears outrageous clothes and act in an uber-macho way, often striking fierce mie (a contorted facial pose to show strength).  In fact, Kikuchiyo strikes what could be interpreted as a mie on several occasions.  Also, his main weapon points further to the Aragoto style, as his primary sword is an Ôdachi, a longsword rarely used by foot soldiers.

Lighting plays a prominent role in this film.  Kurosawa creates an atmosphere of sparse and difficult times with his use of lighting, which is a great aid to this tale.  There is one scene where the villagers who have been sent to recruit the samurai have nothing to offer them in payment but food.  However, they spill their remaining rice in the boarding house they are staying in.  The way that each precious grain of rice stands out against the dark floorboards really shows how much every grain is worth to these men.  Another incident of great lighting is in the night shots waiting for the bandits to attack.  Scenes are seemingly lit with nothing but large torches placed along the roadways.  These torches make it seem almost as if stooks were set ablaze and the flickering glow they cast gives a feeling of how dark it must have been.  The light offers both the sanctuary of the known and makes you a target for the newly arrived tanagashima, or muskets, known to be possessed by the bandits.

Seven Samurai is a thoroughly enjoyable film that engages the viewer from the beginning to the end, and coming in at three plus hours that is no mean feat.  Throughout the film you are introduced to a cast of loveable samurai who fight for what they believe in, and not for the idea of victory.  In the end, Shimada Kanbê feels that their engagement was yet another loss in his life of failed battles.  Kurosawa Akira creates a world where one is transported to a time where violence was part of everyday life.  He does this without big budget special effects or excessive violence, but instead with masterful composition and vision.  Overall, Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai provides the viewer with an excellent tale of good versus evil, where in fact the good may not be as good as one initially thinks.

Categories
action comedy drama, melodrama jidai-geki

“The Hidden Fortress”: Hidden Messages, Secrets and Fortunes

The Hidden Fortress (Kakushi toride no san akunin, 1958) is a jidai-geki directed by Kurosawa Akira. It stars Mifune Toshirō as General Rokurota Makabe and Uehara Misa as Princess Yuki. Set in war-torn feudal Japan, the film follows the pair’s long and dangerous journey across enemy territory. Along the way, they are accompanied by two peasants, Tahei (Chiaki Minoru) and Matashichi (Fujiwara Kamatari). Since its release, the movie has become an inspiration for many directors, including George Lucas who has acknowledged its influence on his worldwide phenomenon, Star Wars.

At the start of the film, the battle between Yamana and Akizuki has just ended, with Yamana emerging as the victor. Princess Yuki is forced to flee to the neighbouring territory of Hayakawa, with whom the defeated Akizuki faction has secured a deal. She must also smuggle out her family’s remaining fortune (gold pieces carefully hidden within sticks of wood), which will enable her to reclaim her land and rebuild Akizuki in the future. Just before setting off for Hayakawa, the travellers take refuge at a hidden fortress. While abiding for time, they formulate an escape plan. Yet even with their best efforts, the journey is far from easy, and the group repeatedly encounters multiple setbacks. Not only do they have to avoid being discovered by Yamana soldiers, but the princess and the general have an additional problem – Tahei and Matashichi do not have the best intentions. Greedy and shallow, they will take any opportunity to run off with the Princess’ gold.

The powerful storytelling of The Hidden Fortress is only one element Kurosawa wanted to display through the movie. He also addresses the issue of class distinctions, which is a subtle but prevalent theme throughout. The social commentary is most apparent through the decisions and actions of the characters. Princess Yuki and General Makabe are educated and of high social status. Their behaviour is refined, their presence commands attention, and they make rational, thought-out decisions. In contrast, Tahei and Matashichi are unintelligent and immature. Their actions indicate little pride, and at times they appear barbaric, as seen when they fight each another for the gold. Additionally, there is one scene where class distinctions become very obvious. It is when Princess Yuki sheds her high status persona and disguises herself as a mute peasant girl. Because her manner of speech is harsh and authoritative, she can be easily identified by the enemy as the Princess of Akizuki. To decrease the likelihood of being captured, she promises General Makabe that she will keep silent until they reach Hayakawa. This issue of class distinctions would have been very obvious to the viewers at the time of the movie’s release.

Aside from creating an interesting plot, the events of the film allow for character development to occur, with the most significant change occurring in Princess Yuki. Having been raised in the castle, her best interests were always placed first. This likely led her to develop the proud and stubborn personality she exhibits at the start of the film. The Princess’ limited experience in the outside world may have also contributed to the spoiled and demanding behaviour that she occasionally displays. However, despite her privileged upbringing, she understands the importance of her position and does not neglect her responsibilities to her country and to her people. As the journey continues, Princess Yuki begins to see the terrible effects of the war. It has brought bloodshed and despair, and many people are left with nothing. Akizuki women are also being bought and sold for the pleasures of men. When the Princess overhears Yamana men criticizing an inadequate slave girl at the inn where she is staying, she demands General Makabe to buy her from the innkeeper. He objects, but she is resolute. She may have no choice but to remain silent during their journey, but “[he] cannot make [her] heart mute too.” Living like a peasant awakens in her a strong resolve to protect her people and to take back her country. At the end of the film, she expresses to the General that she is grateful for the experience she would not have had otherwise, had she been living in the castle: “I saw people as they really are… I saw their beauty and their ugliness with my own eyes.”

Kurosawa’s The Hidden Fortress is a captivating adventure story about the perilous journey of a princess and her general as they escape from enemy territory. Filled with action and humour, audiences will find little to be unsatisfied with. But beneath this basic exterior lies a story imbued with many lessons and messages. It is a story about courage and morality, about change, and ultimately about the sacrifices people make for change to occur. Highly enjoyable and thought-provoking, this movie can be appreciated by anyone, and it would serve as an excellent introduction to those interested in Japanese cinema.

Categories
action yakuza

Branded to Kill

Branded to Kill, also known as Koroshi no rakuin is truly a masterpiece which propelled the Japanese film society into a new modern era. Branded to Kill was released in 1967 by the Nikkatsu Company. Suzuki Seijun, one of Japan’s most prominent and respected directors, took the newly inspired American style film techniques and turned it into something of his own. The fresh new dynamic camera angles and integrated action shots gave Branded to Kill an edgy new perspective in the yakuza genre of films. The cast is composed of a few main characters including Shishido Joe, Nanbara Koji, Mari Anne and Ogawa Mariko.

Our main character, Hanada Goro, also referred as the number three assassin in Japan gave a comical and animated performance in being a stonecold killer, yet with a unique comical twist. His awkward pleasure in smelling boiled rice gave an original perspective into the twisted life of a contracted killer. We follow our kinky assassin in several missions, of which one consisted of being a transporter. Romance also appeared in the film where Hanada falls in love with an even more mysterious female assassin by the name of Misako. A perfect balance between violence and love gave the film an intricate comparison between full-out violence and the personal life of such dramatic characters.

Some of the most interesting scenes that caught my attention were built around the action. The semi-fantasy feel of an invincible sharp shooter was portrayed with surreal accuracy and the over-exaggeration of the bullet impact. In various scenes, we have Hanada shooting away at foes far away, usually on top of some sort of building. Upon being shot, the character somehow gets entangled on a piece of rope, thus hanging lifeless. There was also usage of the “film within a film” technique where Hanada’s newfound love Misako is held hostage and tortured until her evident death.

Suzuki enjoyed original ideas as Hanada uses unusual ways of killings his targets. In one particular scene, Hanada assassinates his victim by firing his pistol up a water pipe, resulting in planting the bullet into his head. There are also several other clever assassinations that are definitely out of the ordinary.

Suzuki Seijun created such wide variety of visual stunts as well as unrealistic portrayals of death which was interesting to watch. His brilliance was credited to his use of camera angles and a sort of freestyle shooting. He practically used all the types of shots available for this film, and they all came together in brilliant sequences. Although Branded to Kill was a small-budget film, the expertise on such original camerawork made the movie flawless and certainly not cheap. If I was to compare this film to a modern day style, Quentin Tarantino’s twisted and over-exaggerated style suits Suzuki’s animated action scenes. The fluidity of action and the flashbacks and hallucinations are indeed familiar in some of Tarantino’s films. In essence, Suzuki’s genre is most likely directly influencing some of Tarantino’s work such as Kill Bill and Sin City. Branded to Kill is definitely recommended to those who appreciate the genre of gangster films without significant amount of blood and gore. As a fan of violence-based movies, it still satisfies the craving for action, but the unorthodox music and comical aspects soften the realism of the brutal killings. The cleverly composed characters and the general mood of the film achieve comical relief and the occasional suspense from time to time. The film does include various scenes of intense sexual content, as it is part of the Nikkatsu Company films.

Categories
action jidai-geki

Yojimbo: A Story of a Heroic Samurai

Yojimbo (Yōjinbō), directed by Kurosawa Akira, is an action jidai-geki film released in 1961. The main character in the film is Kuwabatake Sanjūro, played by Mifune Toshiro. Mifune worked with Kurosawa in several other films such as Rashomon and Seven Samurai. The film takes place in 1860, eight years before the Meiji Restoration, where many samurai, having lost their master to serve, are wandering across the country with no particular purpose. In this disorderly period, one samurai arrives in a small town where two gangs, the Seibei family and the Ushitora family, are having a furious conflict. The corruption of this town is serious since the officer and mayor do not take any action and they even support the gangs in order to secure their own safety. Rather than running away from the town, the samurai, Kuwabatake Sanjūro, decides to stay and wipe out the gangs all by himself.

The main plots of the film revolve around Sanjūro’s attempts to bring peace to the town by fooling the gangs and making them annihilate each other. In order to accomplish this, he first kills three of Ushitora’s men to gain Seibei’s trust and become his yōjinbō (bodyguard). He then gets hired, and Seibei requests him to lead the battle against Ushitora; however, he severs his ties with Seibei right before the fight begins which gets interrupted by the officials’ inspection. Having observed Sanjūro’s talent, two gangs are now desperate to hire him as a yōjinbō, but Sanjūro does not accept their offers in order to keep their hopes up. While waiting impatiently for the gangs to visit and name him a price, Sanjūro finds out that two gangs have formed an alliance. Although the news gives him a shock, he soon stirs this situation with his wit and makes Seibei break the alliance. Once again, the town is back to its chaotic state, and Sanjūro heats up the conflict even more by rescuing a woman who is the property of Tokuemon, a sake brewer who is on Ushitora’s side, and making it look as if Seibei was involved. This incident triggers a ferocious fight between the gangs, and the whole town turns into a battlefield. Although it was all going well as Sanjūro planned, Unosuke, one of Ushitora’s men, finds out that it was actually Sanjūro who let the woman escape and this marks a turning point in the story.

One prominent feature of this film is the main character Kuwabatake Sanjūro’s uniqueness. He is not bound by any rules or customs like other characters and he always acts on his free will. Accordingly, Sanjūro carries out many unexpected actions. At the beginning of the film where Sanjūro is at a branch road, he throws a piece of branch and lets it decide which way to go. Furthermore, when Seibei asks his name, Sanjūro looks outside the window and there is a mulberry field. Then he just uses mulberry field (Kuwabatake) as his last name, and his first name Sanjūro refers to his age as sanjū means 30. In addition to his free way of life, Sanjūro also exhibits humorous behavior. For example, when Sanjūro eavesdrops on Seibei, Seibei’s wife Orin, and Seibei’s son Yoichiro’s conversation, he learns about their plot to kill him after he completes his job. Smirking as if he is enjoying hearing this conversation, he looks at Seibei’s women who are also eavesdropping and sticks his tongue out of his mouth. Although this action is subtle, it shows Sanjūro’s unique sense of humor which we seldom see in other jidai-geki films.

Another notable feature of Yojimbo is the distinctive music played in different scenes. In this film, music plays an important role as it sets the mood and atmosphere. At the beginning of the film when Sanjūro arrives in the town and walks down an empty street, people suddenly open up their windows and start staring at Sanjūro. Then a dog passes by holding a human hand in its mouth. Although this scene seems very tense, joyful and somewhat comical music is played in between very serious music when the dog appears. This comical music moderates the serious atmosphere of the scene and makes it humorous. In another scene where Sanjūro is at Ushitora’s house and brings shocking news to him, music is played as Ushitora takes each step down the stairs. Although the shot only shows Ushitora’s lower body movement, the sound effects are obvious enough to show how shocked he is.

Although this film is an action jidai-geki film and the title of the movie, Yōjinbō, means bodyguard, it contains only a few minor fighting scenes. Instead of fighting scenes, Kurosawa puts an emphasis on the unique character of Sanjūro who fights against two families of gang all by himself. This reckless and heroic character is distinctive and resembles those characters that appear in Western films. In fact, in some of the fighting scenes where two gangs are lined up and facing each other on the street, it is very similar to combat scenes in Western movies where two gunmen are facing each other on a wasteland.

Categories
action chambara/chanbara jidai-geki

“It All Started with a Girl named Ohama”: Violence and the Sword of Doom

Okamoto Kihachi’s The Sword of Doom (1965) has been highlighted for its brutal portrayal of the way of the samurai. David West in his book Chasing Dragons states, “Whilst Kurosawa was a humanist who rejected bushido, the great director never saw combat first hand. As a war veteran, Okamoto displays in his work an abiding disgust with the path of the warrior that possesses an intensity Kurosawa could not match” (46). This attitude towards violence is portrayed through the metaphor of the sword as the soul and the imagery that seems to confirm this. The film follows Ryūnosuke, who after killing Ohama’s husband in a sword competition is forced to leave his town. After assuming a new identity and joining the Shinsengumi, Hyoma seeks to avenge his brother’s death. The film consists of Ryūnosuke’s attempts to thwart authorities and Hyoma.

In one battle scene Ryūnosuke hears an honourable samurai state, “The sword is the soul. Study the soul to study the sword. An evil mind, an evil sword”, his reaction to this statement exemplifies the effects of murder have on even immoral men. Out of all the horrendous things that Ryūnosuke does in the film which includes raping and killing women, the slaughter of hundreds of men, and beating Ohama’s husband with a wooden sword to death, he is most affected by this statement. Rather than the close-up of his maniacal smile after witnessing death, after hearing this, he looks worried almost defeated. Okamoto seems to suggest that at this moment his sins are catching up on him.

The imagery in the film also conveys a sense of dishonour associated with unnecessary killing. Hyoma serves as the counterpoint to Ryūnosuke’s merciless murder. Unlike Ryūnosuke, Hyoma is never shown murdering anyone and thus the film seems to reinforce this sense of morality in this character. In one particular sequence, Ryūnosuke is depicted killing numerous people for the Shinsengumi. Directly after that scene Hyoma is depicted alone in a room practicing his “tsuki thrust”. This sense of isolation is analogous to calm meditation, a clear contrast to the constant screaming and chaos associated with Ryūnosuke’s murders. Clearly Okamoto is vehemently opposing murder for murder’s sake.

Furthermore, this contrast is represented through repeated visual cues, in particular: light versus dark. From the very beginning of the film, when Ryūnosuke murders an old man while he is praying, he is depicted wearing an extremely dark robe and a large straw hat that covers his face. Hyoma, on the other hand, always wears a lighter shade than Ryūnosuke and never wears anything to cover his face. Ryūnosuke’s dark wardrobe and covered visage gives him shadow-like qualities that reinforce the ambiguous and haunting nature of evil. It is Hyoma’s approachability and appearance that makes him accessible as a protagonist; he is unambiguous, thus allowing him to be easily identified with.

As mentioned previously a major theme in the film is the fact that the sword represents the soul, Okamoto takes pains to associate Ryūnosuke with evil through the imagery of the sword. Previously it was mentioned that Hyoma practices alone in a room with a single light coming through the window. The light reflects off his sword and emits an almost ethereal glow, perhaps signifying a sense of justice. Ryūnosuke’s sword is never without bloodstains on it, and this is made most evident by the fact that he is constantly depicted cleaning it. His insistence on cleaning the sword every spare moment is perhaps indicative of his sense of guilt. Just like Lady Macbeth who can’t seem to wash the blood off her hands, Ryūnosuke cannot get the blood off his sword and consequentially his soul.

The sword as the soul is a powerful metaphor that permeates throughout Okamoto’s The Sword of Doom. As the title of the film suggests Ryūnosuke is doomed to live with the guilt of killing hundreds, maybe even thousands of men. The film is didactic in its efforts to denounce pointless murder and it does so through the use contrasting imagery: peaceful isolation versus chaos and light versus dark. Okamoto speaks against murder with a chilling tale that subverts the mythos of the samurai. The film is certainly not a traditional chambara, but it does offer a deep exploration of the nature of evil. Its fight scenes are well crafted and show a sense of tension that is not as prevalent in other samurai films. Its one pitfall is the fact that there should have been more emphasis on Hyoma’s character, he seems shoved aside near the end of the film. I would definitely recommend this film to fans of the chambara genre, because it truly questions some of the values that the samurai have while providing entertaining sword fights.

Categories
action yakuza

Blood, Bullets, and Bodies: The True Colours of Tokyo Drifter

Suzuki Seijun’s 1966 film Tokyo Drifter (Tôkyô nagaremono) can best be described as a pop art variation to the yakuza (gangster) film. The eighty-six minute feature uses splashy colours, avant-garde style and comic-book-coolness to tell the ruthless story of ex-Kurata mob member, Tetsu ‘Phoenix’ Hondo (Tetsuya Watari). While Tetsu can easily be deemed a reckless young killer, it is his honour and loyalty to his own ethics that sets him apart from the average trigger-pulling gangster. In other words, he kills to survive. Not only has his honour to the Kurata boss (Ryugi Kits) turned him into the mob’s (soon to be former) right-hand man, it has also guided him to abandon the profession altogether – a decision that leads him down a path with no escape. The only time Tetsu’s honour is tested is when faced by his love interest and local lounge singer, Chiharu (Matsubara Chieko). Without the option of going back on his decision, Tetsu has no choice but to kill or risk being killed (even if it means abandoning love). This cutthroat attitude mirrors the choices of Suzuki himself who endured endless backlash from the studios for taking his films “too far” and not adhering to their requests to alter what they saw as inappropriate and explicit content. Suzuki was eventually blacklisted from the studios and labeled an outcast much in the same way as his protagonist in Tokyo Drifter. With his own cinematic style working to glorify an otherwise standard yakuza film, Suzuki manages to tell a tale of betrayal and survival by appealing to the senses of his viewers.

At the beginning of the film Tetsu reveals his decision to retire from organized crime. As expected, Tetsu cannot simply walk away unscathed. With unsettled debts and ongoing feuds with the Yoshii rival gang, Tetsu soon finds himself a wanted man. While leading his enemies on a wild goose chase across Japan, the commonly described “James Bond” of Japanese cinema leaves nothing behind but bullets and bodies. While on foot, Tetsu learns that his once-honoured boss has turned against him. In other words, he must now dodge bullets from all angles. As Tetsu makes his way from sketchy nightclubs, to the northern mountains and eventually back to Tokyo, he enters into a series of jaw-dropping shootouts and bloodbaths. While Tetsu ventures off on his one-man journey, his relationship with Chiharu deflates. While the pretty young singer awaits the safe return of her lover, she continues her work at Kurata’s lounge in Tokyo and sings as if haunted by her desire to be loved by a drifter.

After watching the first few scenes of Tokyo Drifter the viewer will see that the plotline is noticeably messy. In true 1960s Warhol fashion, the meaning of the film is quickly rendered meaningless as it cannot compare to the psychedelic imagery and vivid colouring that dominates the screen. For example, the opening scene (which is shot in black and white) contains random bursts of colour such as a man walking by in a bright yellow suit and a cherry red gun lying on the ground. While we should be focusing our attention on the introduction to characters, Suzuki draws the eye elsewhere. Suzuki later uses colour to highlight the brutality of death by allowing rich human blood to pour all over a pure white set. These stylistic enhancements lend the film an unrealistic, cartoon-like quality and are constantly distracting viewers from the redundant plotline. The excessive use of manipulated colouring is still widely used today and can be seen in films such as Sin City (2005, Frank Miller) and Watchmen (2009, Zach Snyder). This manipulation allows the film’s overall style to parallel or even surpass the importance of the plot. With clear influences from the German Expressionist and French New Wave periods, Suzuki has managed to turn a film into an art exhibition.

Another way in which Tokyo Drifter manages to distract viewers from the plot is through the use of diegetic music. In many scenes we get to hear Chiharu sing while performing her act on stage. Suzuki seems to be paying homage to the Hollywood musical in these scenes as he chooses to have Chiharu express her sadness through song much like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz (1939, Victor Fleming). This song underscores the theme of the film by describing Tetsu’s journey through lyrics: “Where is he that vagabond,””Always drifting,” and “oh, that drifter from Tokyo.” The song is later intertextually echoed through the whistling of Tetsu as he makes his way through a northern snow storm. The result is a chilling call and response from a sad lover to a lonely drifter.

Suzuki Seijun”s Tokyo Drifter is a thoroughly enjoyable experience that, although not for everyone (due to the film’s graphic fighting and violence), has made its colourful mark in cinematic history. Suzuki’s similarities to his protagonist make the film all the more interesting as both character and filmmaker are standing up for their own ethics and fighting for their beliefs. The film has influenced the likes of many modern-day filmmakers including Quentin Tarantino and his widely popular Kill Bill (2003/2004) series. Although the artistry is commendable, we are forced to wonder if the film’s bold style is holding up the plot or if the plot is bringing down the style. Regardless, Tokyo Drifter is a wild rollercoaster ride for the eyes and a vividly refreshing addition to the yakuza genre.

Spam prevention powered by Akismet