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Zatoichi, The Blind Swordsman
With Yojimbo (1961), Akira Kurosawa created the popular sub-genre of the samurai-western, fusing the ancient warrior codes and legends with American Western motifs, including lone heroes, corrupt border towns, and climactic showdowns in dusty landscapes. That film was such a hit that, much like the westerns of John Ford and Sergio Leone, it inspired a slew of Asian rip-offs that featured even more lone samurais against a wide variety of gangsters in small, corrupt villages. The best and most durable of these rip-offs was the Zatoichi series, which chronicled the adventures of the opportunistic but noble, blind mercenary warrior. It is important to note that the world created in Yojimbo deserved to be copied in other films, because combining the Western and Samurai genres is an inspired idea that need not be limited to simply that film and its sequel, Sanjuro. Kurosawa was obsessed with combining Western motifs with Asian themes because they were often so similar—see also his interpretations of Shakespeare in Throne of Blood (Macbeth) and Ran (King Lear). It was an insight that deserved repeating. That the Zatoichi films followed the Yojimbo storyline so closely is certainly not a distraction, because successful westerns have always had less to do with the plot (which often copied westerns that came before them) and more to do with the chivalric nature of the cowboy and the individual charm of the lone hero. Zatoichi passes that test; if Kurosawa’s Yojimbo series are better films, then Zatoichi is a far more interesting character. The notion of a blind samurai could have easily been played for laughs, but the films wisely kept the character straight, somber, and with a sharp wit of his own. As played by Shintarô Katsu, Zatoichi is a philosopher who leans closely on the samurai codes of honor and takes himself very seriously. In addition, he is not flashy, cocky man, and for the most part, he lets his ability speak for itself. An example: As he and a companion fishes, Zatoichi listens carefully and notes, “I think you have a fish biting your line,” and his friend is flabbergasted to learn that the blind man is correct. The very fact that the blind swordsman so masterfully controls his other four senses consistently catches those who do not know him off guard; as a result, he uses his disability to his advantage, often exploiting his opponents’ belief that he is a helpless blind man. Of course, as his sword flies, they realize that they have gravely miscalculated. Yet on a more intriguing level than his master sword ability, there is a human, tragic character here that is far from a caricature. Zatoichi’s history is vague, but this film, the first of the series, reveals that before he was a master swordsman, he was a masseur. Those who know their Japanese history (or those who read the DVD jacket, as I did) will know that the masseur is the lowest job that a blind man could get in ancient Japan. Thus, we realize that Zatoichi literally started at the bottom of the food chain and worked his way up, overcoming his disability through determination and strong will. A success story? Perhaps not: Consider the scene in which a woman who has become taken by Zatoichi and wants to be his wife is turned down by the blind swordsman. He tells her, “You do not want a part of the life I lead. The life of a gangster, always fighting for the highest bidder. I wouldn’t want it either, except I’m too deep in it now to turn back.” Now here is a truly compelling character—he worked his way up from nothing and has become the most feared swordsman in the land, but now that it’s all said and done, his determination has become his greatest enemy, and he sort of misses being nothing. Yojimbo, for all its mind-blowing energy and style, never saw its hero on such a complex level; thus, Zatoichi seems less like a rip-off and more like a continuation of Kurosawa’s themes of the isolation found in being an honorable samurai bound to a pack of dishonorable bandits. As the first film in the series, Zatoichi, the Blind Swordsman establishes this rich character and places him in what is essentially the plotline of Yojimbo—the swordsman finds himself in a town that is caught in the middle of a war between two different gangsters, and he carefully chooses sides in an attempt to make a profit for himself. It is interesting to see the contrast of how Zatoichi handles himself in the same situation that Yojimbo found himself in: Whereas the latter revealed his nobility slowly and eventually pits both sides against each other, Zatoichi is more noble from the start—he stays loyal to the side that pays him, but will not contradict the samurai code of honor in the meantime, even if it means he is not paid. The film also adds some subplots into the familiar plotline, including a love interest and an equally skilled samurai on the opposing side who has a secret disability of his own. The relationship between Zatoichi and the latter is particularly interesting: The two men remain desperately loyal to each other as fellow samurais even though they know that eventually, they’ll have to fight one another. That eventual fight between them is the highlight of the film—the choices that the two men make are both poignant and deeply moving. These men, after all, are not enemies, but merely men fighting because they’d rather be killed by a fellow warrior than die at the hands of corrupt, idiot hoodlums. Though there is plenty of fighting in the film, I found it curious how quiet Zatoichi is. Like Kurosawa, director Kenji Misumi and writer Minoru Inuzuka keep the volume down and are more interested in why these men fight than how well they fight. The battles are intense but surprisingly short, which is intended to be tribute to Zatoichi’s skill rather than an exercise in excessive action (Hollywood’s action directors should take note). Fans of intense swordplay might be disappointed by this mainly dialogue-driven film, but they will not deny the power contained in the moments when Zatoichi actually draws his sword. In one the film’s best scenes, he is ambushed in the night by two men, and though we cannot see what happens, the brief noises that we hear create an effective image in our minds. Other films would have given in and shown the fight, but when we’re dealing with a blind swordsman, darkness and the quick swishing of blades is more than enough to get the point across. Because of this, I also admired the dark filming that director Misumi employs. The film is shot in black and white, with an emphasis on black. Many scenes take play at night or in dark, crowded rooms, and it is often difficult to see exactly what is going on. I’ve read reviews complaining that this technique makes the film seem amateurish; I would argue that it effectively creates a sense of what it must be like to be a master blind swordsman. Rather than simply telling us that Zatoichi relies equally on his four remaining senses, the film demonstrates how he does it by making us to do the same. As a result, the final image of Zatoichi stumbling off into the woods, headed towards his next adventure, is all the more stirring: Now that we see how he works, we appreciate him even more and want to see where he takes us next. This appeal, not the mention the complexity of the man himself, carried Zatoichi into one of the longest lasting and enduring film series of all time. Trivia
note: For all of the comparisons that I make between Zatoichi
and Yojimbo, is it curious to note that the two samurai
finally met in Zatoichi vs. Yojimbo (1970), in what was
probably the most speculated-upon cinematic battle in Asian history
(not counting, of course, King
Kong vs. Godzilla). I have not seen the film, but being
familiar with both film series, I am at a loss to say who would
win the fight. The men seem equally matched. My prediction: They
team up, kill all the gangsters, and split the money. That’s
sort of cheating, but then again, would anyone really
want a winner between such cinematic icons? Cast: A film by Daiei Motion Picture Co. Ltd. Directed by Kenji Misumi. Written by Minoru Inuzuka, from a short story by Kan Shimozawa. No M.P.A.A. rating, but contains a few scenes of violence (probably fine for mature kids). Running time: 96 minutes. Original Japanese theatrical release date: April 18, 1962. Japanese, with English subtitles. Questions? Comments? E-mail me: danel_the_tinman@hotmail.com |
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