Zatôichi to Yôjinbô (1970)

Yojimbo follows Zatoichi in order to taunt him.

Zatôichi to Yôjinbô (Zatoichi Meets Yojimbo) is one of those movies that gets better and better with each time you watch it. This is especially true for viewers unfamiliar with popular Japanese cinema, as much of its delight comes from watching two iconic figures - the blind masseuse/bad-ass Zatoichi (Shintarô Katsu) and the grumpy samurai/bad-ass Yojimbo (Toshiro Mifune) - circle each other and clash. The plot is also told in a leisurely, non-linear way, so that important points are sometimes revealed fairly late in the film. And if you're unfamiliar with the tropes of samurai cinema and the general history of feudal Japan, you might feel a bit lost at first, as these are obviously assumed cultural reference points for the home audience. But, we at the PPCC can guarantee that, once you do become familiar with the genre and its cultural references, the movie becomes very, very enjoyable.


Zatoichi decides he needs an umbrella.


A very funny moment.

The film opens with Zatoichi, our protagonist, killing some dude in a field. It is, of course, raining. Zatoichi hides away in a shed, and meanwhile some other men steal the dude's money and run away. This establishes the first and most prominent theme in the film: greed. Zatoichi decides he's sick and tired of all this ("I've got blood on my hands," he says, and later, "I've had my fill of hell"), and dreams of returning to an idyllic village he passed through years ago. Picking his way through the beautiful countryside, he returns to the village and finds that it's gate now has over a hundred jizo statues outside - that is, tombstones. And Zatoichi soon learns that not all is well in his personal paradise. The town is (as per samurai usual) overrun by gangs, and a nameless yojimbo - yes, THE Yojimbo - has been ordered to put Zatoichi's head on a platter.


Thankfully Yojimbo spends most of the time wasted and is hence less of a threat.

It's kind of a stretch, but the very first time we saw this, we thought about the Zatoichi/Yojimbo parallels as something of an Apollonian and Dionysian split. . If you don't feel like following the Wiki link: the Apollonian and Dionysian dichotomy is an idea mostly used in aesthetics, where Apollo represents clarity, order and discipline in making art, and Dionysus represents intoxication, inebriation and primal inspiration. Obvious examples of Dionysian artists would be Jackson Pollock, Rumi, or Oh-won. Apollonian artists would be Andy Warhol or George Seurat or anyone whose art depends crucially on not making mistakes. They say the best art comes from the combination and tension of these two drives, art that speaks from both the intellect and guts. Anyway, we thought this about the movie mostly because the sober/drunk dichotomy between Zatoichi and Yojimbo is often emphasized, with the former routinely calling the latter "an animal". Furthermore, Yojimbo's drives are intense and primal - he drinks, he pines for the prostitute Umeno (Ayako Wakao), he rages and roars. In this film, Yojimbo is very much out of control. Zatoichi is Zen-like, by comparison. While he too has his scruffy moments, when contrasted with Yojimbo, he is methodical, focused, almost lofty - while he too pines for Umeno, his love is more poetic than physical. He likens her to the scent of plums, he marvels at the soft texture of her hand. Yojimbo, instead, barks his requests: "Lie with me."

(Of course, this whole out-of-control Dionysus vibe is completely undermined when Yojimbo reveals himself to be a spy called Sasa. We at the PPCC choose to completely disregard this part of the plot, since we think the filmmakers just did it to avoid laying claim to a character created by Akira Kurosawa. And also we just love Yojimbo so much, we can't accept that he lied to us for so long.)


This guy's a total idiot.

The Greek feel can also be found in the film's major theme: greed. Throughout the film, all characters are consumed by this greed, and the only morality comes from how much they let greed make them do evil things. Zatoichi and Yojimbo are the last ones to go for the gold that everyone is searching for, and this final scene establishes them as - for all their ambiguities - primarily good. But this quest for money is shown to lead to patricide, filicide, forced prostitution and treachery. This is where the Greek stuff comes in: the dennouement definitely feels like something out of Aeschylus or Sophocles, with father and brothers in open warfare, while Zatoichi, Yojimbo and the frightening Kuzuryu (Shin Kishida) act as a Greek chorus looking on. In fact, this was our favorite part in the film: when the characters slowly follow each other to the gold, alternatively bleeding and dragging themselves, and Yojimbo declares, "You take it from here. I'm sick of this. I'm going to throw up." Indeed, the film is screaming "look what greed does!" at this point, but its presentation is wonderfully stylized and archetypal, so it doesn't feel too didactic.


Our favorite moment in the film. Wonderful composition, aesthetically, and a wonderful way to create tension within the story. The evil Kuzuryu spots Yojimbo.


Kuzuryu is tres evil.

An interesting thing is how the gun-slinger in these samurai movies is always presented as such a creepy, unquestionably evil character. In this film, Kuzuryu is the samurai with the "secret weapon", and, as usual, he has that sick, sinister smile of a total psycho. Indeed, because the gun-slinger undermines all the nobility and hard work of an ancient tradition - it's like the West corrupting the cultural heritage, because now all it takes is a gun and an idiot to pull the trigger to bring down even the craftiest swordsman. You can see another such Evil Gun-slinger in Yojimbo.


And for more Zatoichi fun, see the previously PPCCed Zatoichi (2003).

Anyway, despite all this heaviness, there are some very light touches - the comedy between Zatoichi and Yojimbo is particularly funny. They tease each other, to the point of playing practical jokes, and one of our favorite moments in the film is when, after reconciling, their familiar banter resumes: Yojimbo puts out his leg to trip Zatoichi, and Zatoichi steps on his knee. Yojimbo barks: "Freak!" And Zatoichi responds: "Animal."

Machibuse (1970)

He just got bonked in the face by the lantern.

Jazzy and stylish, Machibuse (Incident at Blood Pass) features a fun ensemble of varying low-lifes and losers, helmed, as usual, by Toshiro Mifune's gruff and contradictory nameless Yojimbo (bodyguard) character. Like the original Star Wars films, here we are introduced to a whole new world from the bottom-up. That is, society as seen from the very edges of it, from the point of view of the dregs and outcasts.


Bimbo and Gambler. OMG Gambler was so adorable.

The story is winding, but never difficult to follow. In the beginning, the nameless Yojimbo (Toshiro Mifune) is given a task from a nameless employer. The employer explains that Yojimbo must go to a mountain pass and "wait for something to happen". Yojimbo, ever unflappable, heads for the pass. On his way there, he saves a woman, Okuni (Ruriko Asaoka), from her abusive husband. He helps her to flee and drops her off at a nearby teahouse, run by a bimbo (Mika Kitagawa) and her grandfather. At the teahouse, we meet a handsome, young gambler (Yûjirô Ishihara) and a Discredited Doctor (Shintarô Katsu, of Zatoichi fame). A detective (Kinnosuke Nakamura, from Samurai Banners) barges in, dragging a thief in tow; both very wounded, they collapse onto the floor. The gambler meanwhile slaps Okuni, sparking Yojimbo's rage. The doctor refuses to treat the wounded men. Okuni is falling in love, hard-core, with Yojimbo. Hilarity ensues.


The foreground is eavesdropping on the middleground.


Your requisite movie allowance of bad-ass samurai action.

But things become hairy for Yojimbo when he finally learns what his task is. In true individualist, everyone-be-damned style, Yojimbo decides he'll do whatever he damned well pleases - and ends up surprising spectators left and right. This delicious ambiguity is a source of much pleasure and jocularity: oh ho ho ho. Lovely! And while this film's Yojimbo is a lot mellower and more mature than the cynical, hard-drinking, grimy Yojimbos of Yojimbo, Sanjuro, and Zatoichi Meets Yojimbo, he's still got that particular Yojimboey charm. And that Toshiro Mifune-y ability to look archly skeptical, dismissive, ironic and uncomfortable - ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Magnificent!


Toshiro san, like a beacon of light!

See, because the fun of the Yojimbo character is just that: he is a cynic surrounded by idiots, and he both loves and hates being right all the time (kinda like the Jeff). At times, the world seems so damned awful that poor Yojimbo must retreat into a sake bottle and issue his grumblings from there. (This is especially the case if women are involved, though, Yojimbo, like Amitabh Bachchan, was usually much too manly for romance.) At other times, he finds it quite funny - in a sarcastic, black humor sort of way. And all the time, Yojimbo proves himself to be a bad-ass, insanely aggressive and yet very sane, always expelling the minimum energy required to dispatch an idiot enemy, always smirking into his shoulder, sharing a joke only with himself and with the audience.

And what's even better - Yojimbo is morally ambiguous! While the PPCC would argue that the core of Yojimbo is highly ethical, he is not above stealing or betraying or punching people in the face. And people make lists about Chuck Norriss, tut! In Incident at Blood Pass, this moral greyness is on display: we are genuinely unsure of whether Yojimbo is going to betray everyone or not, and then, when he decides what to do, he further confounds us in how he treats the Demented Doctor. This will all make sense when you watch it. And the last scene, when the Officer says, "I think you might want to say something to Okuni," and Yojimbo's reaction - priceless!


Katsu in a very un-Zatoichi-like role.

But, as we said at the top of this review, the joy of this film is its ensemble of archetypes. Everyone is fun and perfect, filling their own little niche well. Stand-outs include Yûjirô Ishihara as the young gambler, who was just as scrumptious as a slice of pie, and Shintarô Katsu as Discredited Doctor, who was almost Toshiro Mifune-like in his ability to be SO fundamentally different than from his usual Zatoichi character.


A note about the music: it's great.

A note about the DVD: This DVD can be bought as part of the Toshiro Mifune: The Ultimate Collection - a very good buy, since it includes five lovely, non-Kurosawa Mifune classics, and every DVD comes with liner notes that explain the historical context. So awesome!

Fuurin kazan (1969)

All hail! The best actor in the universe!

Man, Toshiro Mifune was da BOMB. He was absolutely, unconditionally, unparalleledly DA BOMB. If he was a number, he'd be infinity to the infinity.


Toshiro, you were da bomb.

The magnificence of Toshiro Mifune was sometimes complimented by the surroundings; such as in the case of the epic jidaigeki samurai swashbuckler, Fuurin kazan (Samurai Banners). This is a film full of pageantry and glamour. The battles are large, the costumes precise, we have sweeping shots of gloriously large mountains. Set during 16th century feudal Japan, it tells the story of Kansuke Yamamoto (Toshiro Mifune), a ruthless and ambitious samurai who became a legendary general in the Kai domain. Under the lordship of ruler Takeda (Kinnosuke Nakamura), Kansuke dreams of conquering all of Japan - uniting the country from sea to sea. For a man who professes to dream of peace, however, he's an awfully violent guy. The prologue establishes him as a man whose ambitions often outweigh his scruples: betraying a fellow samurai and killing him in order to get a job.

After advising Takeda to overthrow the nearby kingdom of Suwa, Kansuke finds the now fatherless Princess Yu (Yoshiko Sakuma) about to kill herself. Yu's maid is insisting that she must, out of honor, but Yu - who reveals herself to be as powerful and single-minded a figure as Kansuke - outright refuses. She does not want to die, so why should she? Instead, Kansuke takes her prisoner and delivers her to Takeda, who takes her as a concubine. It takes more than a little convincing on Kansuke's part to get Yu to agree to be Takeda's concubine and bear him a son. All the while, political and military machinations aside, Kansuke is falling a bit for the fiery young princess. The feelings seem reciprocated, until, after giving birth to an heir, Yu declares that she both loves and hates Takeda, and will forever be consumed by these conflicting feelings. Kansuke is understandably disappointed.


Kansuke advising Takeda.


One of the large-scale battles.

All of this culminates in the famous battle at Kawanakajima, which, if you know your Japanese history, should come as no surprise. The PPCC knows nothing about Japanese history apart from what Toshiro has taught us, but we do know our narrative structure, so we weren't that surprised. But it was still magnificent and sad.


This was one of those movies where they have little diagrams explaining battle strategies.

Apparently the Kansuke of legend had a bad eye and a bad leg, and Toshiro thus manages to infuse Kansuke with an air of hardened gruffness but also fairly obvious vulnerability. At least, there are several moments when Kansuke's physical difficulties are obvious, and yet he still maintains an almost exaggerated aggressive quality. It reminds us of Kurosawa's only critique of Toshiro: that his voice was too "rough". The scenes with Princess Yu are a good juxtaposition, in that suddenly he is diminished and becomes almost servile: "Anything you wish is my command," and several variations thereof. We at the PPCC liked Princess Yu's character very much - she was a lady in charge! - though we didn't find Yoshiko Sakuma particularly charismatic. The same goes for Kinnosuke Nakamura, who played Takeda, and generally came across as slimy and unlikable. Takashi Shimura, another Kurosawa alumna, appears in the background - but apart from being a comfortingly familiar face, he doesn't have much to do at all.

We should note, however, that while the filmed is filled with sweeping shots of beautiful landscapes, and often the geometry in the scenes is admirable, there was a certain emotionally cold quality. At least, we had difficulty at times following all the historical twists and turns - no doubt this would have been an easier film to follow for someone who had some background knowledge. Similarly, the non-relationship between Kansuke and Princess Yu leaves a lot to be desired. "For the love of God, just say it!" we often cried, but to no avail. Also, while we've often enjoyed the music in such similar samurai swashbucklers as Rashomon or Ran, the music here seemed to drift between emotional cues.

Anyway, it's all lovely if you love Toshiro, which we do. Also, the sheer awesomeness of the setting and costumes is great fun - one of the few films which succeeds to bring out an independent universe, so that we could believe that there is much more that we are not seeing.

Clip - Samurai Banners
Uploaded by AmberCeca

An excellent scene: the assassination of the ruler of Suwa. The best moment is in the end, when the assassin kneels before the ruler of Suwa and declares, "Sir, I have been ordered to kill you."