nippon connection day#3: hara-kiri: death of a samurai / ichimei (2011)

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You know, that euphoric feeling you get after watching a really good movie has got to be one of the best things in life. So okay, that's definitely not up in the top ten list of anyone who's actually lived some, but with my limited experience one has to take these little pleasures in life whenever they come. Clearly many people were overwhelmed by the film too since they stayed till the end of the credits rolled. Ironically a very Japanese thing to do.

I've already mentioned how Kobayashi Masaki's Seppuku / Hara-kiri (1962) is one of my favourite samurai eiga ever. (Seppuku is the formal term; Hara-kiri, written with the same kanji, is the cruder form which literally means "cutting of the stomach".) The other is Akira Kurosawa's Ran which is basically a Japanese adaptation of Shakespeare's King Lear. That one is a masterpiece of epic proportions all right -- great visuals, awesome cinematography and basically a piece of art -- but it still isn't quite originally Japanese. What really draws me to samurai eiga and basically Japanese cinema in general is not quite the chambara but the drama. There is a common recurring message in Japanese movies that I think resonates with audiences past cultural barriers: courage lies in trying to live on rather than choosing death.

I've always found that the best samurai films are still those which deal with the poor unknown samurai who'd never be remembered in history. Lately the films in this genre has been focusing on these small fries, particularly Yamada Yoji's trilogy and Takashi Miike's own previous film 13 Assassins. They are mostly set in the years leading up to the Meiji Restoration which basically saw the waning importance of the warrior class against the backdrop of peace and increasing Westernisation.

In my review of 13 Assassins I mentioned that the films dealing with this issue are still very relevant to today's audiences all over the world, particularly male audiences, in the same way that Fight Club (1999) has gained its own cult following. I had my qualms about an epic like Seppuku getting remade but I think Takashi Miike did a splendid job of reviving this story in cinematic consciousness once again. It is, after all, a story that needs to be heard. And let's face it: younger folks love them movies in technicolor.

And it was a visual masterpiece in technicolor indeed. Miike used the colours to symbolise the changing mood thoughout the film. Sure there were a lot of shots that were reminiscent (read: blatantly ripped off) of the 1962 film, right down to the cinematography, but that's not to dismiss this adaptation as a mere technicolor version of the original.

The story is very solid so that by default establishes any adaptation as a film worth seeing. I've never read the novel because I don't even think a translated one exists.

In a nutshell it is about a poor masterless samurai who goes to a lord's manor asking to use the premises to commit ritual suicide because poverty is something hard for a samurai to swallow. As we follow him to his last act of courage, he tells a story of his life and manages to pack a few punches before a dramatic exit to the afterlife.

Now I really have to nerd out on the cinematography. I really love the opening shots of the film which basically showed various aspects of the samurai manor. It was like a homage to the typical way old samurai classics opened up with all the cast credits and everything. The calligraphy was a very nice touch too.

There were a few differences from the original. One major thing is that the friendship between Tsugumo Hanshiro and Chijiiwa Motome's father was changed into a more sempai/kouhai one, and Motome's father dies of illness rather than seppuku for being involved with a disgraced river project. I guess one less suicide doesn't make a difference (this film has at least six) but I think the original end for his father was better, partly because the seppuku seems to be a symbol of the old samurai.

The main seppuku scene with Motome was more or less the same, except longer and with much more gore. I never thought anything could be more intense than that scene in the original, but apparently I'm wrong. It was very difficult to watch. I've always been one to stomach (no pun intended) gore and blood but this one really freaked me out. Harakiri is not pretty, but doing it with a wooden sword is sacrilege to the human body. A few people sat this scene out. And for someone who knows the story already, the prior knowledge of Motome's life makes this intense scene much more dramatic. Not even gonna lie, them tear ducts kept flowing.

You could tell that everyone in the audience wanted it to oh dear God please make it stop but the sadist second refused to deliver the mercy killing blow. It reminded me a bit of Obi-Wan in Revenge of the Sith. As time goes by I'm starting to really hate Obi-Wan Kenobi's actions in the Star Wars saga. /totally digressing

I think Miike's greatest achievement with this adaptation is that he brought something new that was lacking in the original. It became more than just Tsugumo Hanshiro's story, as was the focus in the original, but also Motome and Miho's love story. This film made it so much clearer that their marriage was more than just obeisance towards the elders' wishes. The fleshing out of the relationships including that between father- and son-in-law made the dramatic scenes exponentially more poignant and heart-wrenching.

Then there's the little details and nuances. Like the way the dead cat and the castle drums beating ominously in the background were harbingers of dire times ahead. There were a lot of cats in this film by the way. There's one particular serene shot of a fat cat lounging in the corner of the manor watching languorously the chambara unfolding before its eyes. That was depressingly hilarious. It's like a reversal of roles; the savage men juxtaposed with the civilised cat.

My favourite change of course is the depth that was given to Miho. Being surrounded by male characters, women in samurai films are often limited to two-dimensional characters whose only purpose is to be the object of affection, something to mamoru or worse, mere ornaments to soften the rough edges. Even samurai media with stronger females, for example Rurouni Kenshin still have women being mere sheathes to a samurai's sword. (and yes, that's with double, triple entendre.)

But in Ichimei Miho is given a new dimension besides the despair, the femininity and the vulnerability that the character has in the original. Here Miho expresses a lot of guilt for being a burden to the men in her life, but at the same time, like the true daughter of a samurai she is, she tries hard to display strength of will, and never asks to be saved. In the original, Miho is always bedridden during her illness, but in this film she actually has to be asked many times to lie the fuck down and rest. Even when she's coughing up blood, she crawls to the kitchen, she desperately tries to feed her dying child. One cannot blame women in those times for their plight partly caused by a patriarchal society which basically does not expect them to be strong, and that basically only elevates Miho to a strong female character despite lacking in physical strength.

The most poignant scene is undoubtedly when Miho carefully removes the splinters of the wooden sword from her dead husband's hand. She discovers in his hakama the mochi which he intended to give to her, a detail which says a lot about Motome's real lack of intention to escape life or his responsibilities. There is just something so affectionate in the act of Miho eating that precious bloodstained gift in front of the corpses of her dead husband and son, despite the macabreness of the whole situation. Seriously, they might as well have yanked my heart out and hacked it into chopped liver in that scene.

Another major change is that the perpetrators of Motome's demise commit harakiri as well, rather than cowardly hiding in shame for having lost their topknots. I didn't expect to welcome that change but it's interesting I think. Goes to show that even with sadism and lack of compassion, a man can still be honourable to his own principles. With the same standards they judged Motome, they adhere to them and judge themselves accordingly. In the end, none of them are real villains.

Another change in the final chambara scene which I find really appropriate was the symbolism of Hanshiro fighting a horde of samurai by using only Motome's wooden long sword. It sounds very far fetched, but I guess it goes to show how many of the samurai at that point of time really don't know what it's like to kill with a sword, for they've never experienced a real war. It also goes to show what a fucking badass Hanshiro is.

Though personally I think Motome is the most badass one of all. He's most relateable to me because he's a young guy, a bookworm whose only crime is that he was born into the wrong society and he wants to give his family the best. In the end, he's really the most courageous one of all because quite frankly there is nothing and no one scarier than a wooden sword. And perhaps it takes more guts to continue fighting in life than to stick a wakizashi into them. (Edit: I just realised that Motome's name comprises of the kanji for "request/demand" and "woman". Interesting choice for this character.)

Eita and mitsushima hikari should really work together more. They make a lovely onscreen couple with natural chemistry. It must have been quite hard for Eita to do this film. (Around the time of filming last year, his father took his own life for unknown reasons.) Ichikawa Ebizo was of course impressive, you'd only expect nothing less from a kabuki veteran, but Nakadai Tatsuya is still the real Tsugumo Hanshiro to me. Also, I really prefer the original ending to this one which was rather draggy I thought. I also thought that Hanshiro dragging the freaky samurai armour around like a madman then smashing it to pieces on the ground was more effective in the original in symbolically showing how the samurai caste basically brought about their own self-destruction.

Last note: Actually the Japanese title is Ichimei which literally means "one life". I can't think of any other film in Japanese cinema which encapsulates YOLO any better.

At the end of the day, this story reminds us how not thinking for oneself and being content as a mindless drone can make everyone's life miserable, how traditions and technicalities and fucking hierarchy lose their purpose and become mere worthless symbols that are more of a hindrance really, just as the samurai eventually end up being nothing more than a wooden impotent phallic symbol of manhood. I wonder if those fanboys who've acquired a samurai sword for their own personal collection know the identity of that poor nameless samurai who had to, a few centuries ago, metaphorically castrate himself by pawning their swords just to have food on the table.

I've given away a bit too much, but then again words can only do so much to convey emotions. If I were to recommend only one samurai film to anyone who's never seen one, especially a film to introduce someone to Japanese culture, either Ichimei or Seppuku would be it for me, depending on whether you want a classic more theatrical one, or a modern realistic version. (Sorry, Kurosawa fanatics and old school purists.) It's quite pointless to compare both adaptations because they focus on different things.

Basically, this film would appeal to you if you're depressed and need to remind yourself it could be worse, if you're an average Joe who feels emasculated by a pro-democracy society which prefers more "feminine" values of pacifism and which frowns on the rough ways of men, if you're down-trodden and living in the fringes of society, feeling a need for your grievances to be addressed. This is definitely the best film I've watched this year so far.

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