Goyokin (1969)

Directed by: Hideo Gosha

Starring: Tatsuya Nakadai, Tetsuro Tanba

With Goyokin, Samurai stalwart director Hideo Gosha has made one of the most complete chambara in the genre. This is a film where every area of the picture is something a spoke connecting into a singular connective hub. Of the sword-fighting films I've seen to date, I've not viewed one where all the cinematic facets support the primary motifs as strongly as Gosha's filmmaking represent in Goyokin. In large part, the completeness is abetted by an intrinsic backstory that encompasses our featured ronin and permeates the narrative focus.

The plot of Goyokin concerns the mysterious massacre of nearly all the townsfolk inhabiting the village known as Kurosaki. We discover the slaughter through the eyes of the lone survivor, a young woman named Oriha (Ruriko Asaoka), in a slow, chilling discovery that reverberates a haunting aura that hangs over the characters for the duration. We learn that the massacre was part of a plan by the impoverished Sabei clan to utilize the Kurosaki villagers to assist them with robbing a ship carrying goyokin ("gold") and then sink the vessel to mislead others to a conclusion that the gold capsized with it. In a plan orchestrated by Sabei leader Tatewaki (Tetsuro Tanba), he orders his clan to kill the villagers to eliminate all witnesses, forever concealing the truth from the Shogunate to whom Sabei is indebted and further hiding the massacre under tales of witchcraft and the supernatural.

Three years later, Magobei Wakizaka (Tatsuya Nakadai) is living in exile from his homeland of Sabei with painful regret and on the verge of giving up his sword for good. Magobei's exile is the only viable option given to him by his brother-in-law, Tatewaki, after voicing his disgust and protest toward the Kurosaki massacre. However, Magobei opts to hold onto his sword when discovering that the Sabei plan to stage another gold heist and massacre to once again repay their debts to the Shogunate. With help of another skilled ronin, Samon (Kinnosuke Nakamura), and Oriha, Magobei decides that he must return to Sabei and stop this massacre from taking place to amend his non-action years ago.

I often find assertions that describe non-actor aspects of certain films as "characters," such as set design, music or editing, are generally overblown. Although, I feel compelled to utilize such a description for the atmosphere created in Goyokin through the use of the natural elements. If that's pushing it a little far, I'd pose that the elements certainly characterize Magobei's inner turmoil. We witness torrid winds, harsh downpours and heavy snowfall. There's even something of an Earthquake manufactured after a large collection of timber is cut loose and thunderously rumbles down the side of a cliff. These forces conspire to form a turbulence that mirrors Magobei's self-proclaimed loss of being alive for not stopping the massacre three years prior and his desperate need to stop it from happening again to regain his sense of life. And while the obvious symbolization is clear, it is effectively administered; the fire a marks hellish representation and the snow-drfited field evokes a certain angelic look with wind-stirred cloud-like snow swirls.

Beyond the pure artistic use, the elements not only underscore all the fight scenes with this palpable brood, but they maximize the visceral coolness. Call it my inner-popcorn munchin' brainless moviewatcher, but I was simply fascinated watching samurai bloodshed and cold steel melees transpire amidst fiery structures, snowy landscapes and rain-drenched tableaus. Stripping away the elemental approach, the fights scenes themselves are numerous and well done. They're realistic, quick and not sensationalized. Aside from one or two blood sprays, the combat is not particularly gory, though there's no shortage of massive battles where our outnumbered heroes battle droves of adversaries. Nonetheless, the fights feel as intense, if not more so, as any I've viewed in comparison to other Samurai films, which is in no doubt powered by the visually chaotic atmosphere and guilt-driven remorse.

Gosha constructs a feature that resonates much like well-crafted drama. With that in mind, there is no shortage of action. In fact, a multitude of action exists throughout the runtime, which speaks volumes of the filmmaking that the dramatic undertone sticks. It is impressive that the entirity of the picture is geared toward the inability to leave the past behind and unending desire to set misdeeds right in the future. This verisimilitude is embodied through the flashbacks. In most films, flashbacks are typically lazy narrative devices to fill in perceived backstory beats for the audience or to patch illogical potholes. Here, the flashbacks enhance the overall thematic. In a story centered on a horribly unforgettable past, it makes sense to allow key plot points to unfold through flashback and imbue the viewer with a similar inability to relinquish compunction and constant reflection.

Make or Break scene - Once again, I'm surprised to admit that the pivotal scene in a Samurai film for me is not one featuring clashing swords. The scene that makes Goyokin is the dramatically-driven one between Magobei and his beloved wife, Shino (Yoko Tsukasa), wherein he states his intention to return to Sabei. Shino pleads with him not go, fearing for his safety. Magobei equates his situation to already being dead and that stopping the next attack is the only way for him to return to the living. The drama is further heightened since we've learned that Shino's brother, Tatewaki, is the leader and instigator of the original bloodshed. This a lengthy scene and played deeply with heartfelt emotion by both Nakadai and Tsukasa, cementing simultaneously the past agony and foreboding dread.

MVT - Tatsuya Nakadai's work as Magobei anchors Goyokin to the central themes. I've seen various reviews that describe Nakadai's as devoid of emotion and stoic, but I disagree with this analysis. While there is a modicum of these traits present, I clearly see Magobei as a man carrying immense baggage and remorse beneath the surface, which resounds in all phases of the film.

Score - 7.5/10

Lone Wolf and Cub: Sword of Vengeance (1972)

Directed by: Kenji Misumi

Starring: Tomisaburo Wakayama & Akihiro Tomikawa

An iconic anti-hero hellbent on grisly revenge. Fantastical fight scenes. Slow-mo mayhem. Arterial blood geysers. Cool weapons galore. Awesome film adaptation of a revered comic series told in a non-linear narrative. This enticing cocktail probably sounds like something you might see in cinemas today. However, the film I'm actually describing was released nearly forty years ago. If you've seen Lone Wolf and Cub: Sword of Vengeance, you've already witnessed these seemingly mismatched elements come together to form this groundbreaking samurai film.

In this first entry of a six film series, official Shogunate executioner Ogami Itto's wife, and mother of his young son Daigoro, is murdered in an attempt to drive him to seppuku (suicide) in a conspiracy orchestrated by the mysterious Yagyu Shadow clan to takeover his coveted position. The Yagyu Shadow also frame Ogami for treason to further force him toward seppuku as a means of retaining his honor. The plan backfires when Ogami renounces his humanity and proclaims himself as a demon walking the land, unbound by laws or codes of honor, and sets out on a path of vengeance against the Yagyu Shadow in which he pushes his son along the way in a baby cart.

Father and son wander the land as Ronin (masterless samurai) killing anyone for 500 gold pieces and establishing their deadly reputation as Lone Wolf and Cub. The first job we see Ogami accept is offered by a chamberlain, who requests the assassination of a rival and his henchmen that plot to kill the chamberlain's lord. Ogami and Daigoro travel to the remote mountain village where their targets dwell only to discover that the rival's henchmen, known as The Oyamada Three, have taken the town hostage, raping and pillaging at will. Caught off guard, they apprehend Ogami and he and his son are taken captive. Now, Ogami must carefully devise a plan of attack to safeguard himself, his son, a sympathetic prostitute and other townsfolk hostages while overcoming the Oyamada Three and the chamberlain lord's rival.

If this story sounds familiar yet you do not recall seeing Lone Wolf & Cub: Sword of Vengeance, there's a strong possibility you did see the film albeit re-edited to include material from the sequel Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart at the River Styx and dubbed for release to American audiences under the title Shogun Assassin. It's a genuine testament to the source material that it made such a profound impact on Eastern and Western filmgoers alike despite existing in vastly disparate forms. No doubt this lasting impression is attributed to filmmaking that was decades ahead of its time.

Kenji Misumi directed a film that perseveres over time through challenging genre conventions with insane action, forward-thinking camera techniques and kinetic energy unlike any other film of its ilk at the time. Misumi deserves credit, as I understand it, for closely following the manga source material. I could easily see another filmmaker stripping away the comic origins as opposed to embracing them to manufacture a risk-averse Kurosawa imitation. Instead, we see heads hacked-off and legs cut-in-half, leaving red-spurting severed ankles behind. The blood sprays exemplify sensationalism at its finest as bright red crimson arcs several feet in the air, maximizing entertainment value and also offering something of a bombastic cathartic release amid the general dread interwoven throughout the duration. You practically have to be dead inside to not enjoy a baby cart turned weapons chest and the array of carnage-inflicting instruments such as pole-arm blades, chains, sickles, swords, etc.

If the stylistic action preserves the film's relevance then it is the characters that allow Lone Wolf and Cub to endure decades later. It is admirable that a narrative tightly bound to passing judgment shies away from leading the viewer to make a specific judgment on the characters. A constant duality surfaces in which one moment contrasts another scene to keep any strict persuasions at bay. Ogami might sacrifice his own pride to save a whore's life then in turn threaten her life when she persistently attempts to join him and his son on their journey. Likewise, there's a quick beat where we observe a crazed woman who has lost her child look to Daigoro to briefly fill the void by breast feeding him. After reluctantly obliging, it is clear that Cub has zilch interest in this woman or her bosom, creating the two-sided sentiment that this a mother who needs a child but not a child who needs a mother.

The overriding dichotomy is visualized in the colorful screen cards where Lone Wolf and Cub are captured traveling on a bright white path, not unlike the flat of a sword, that divides a fiery, orange-red half of the screen from the vibrant, crackling blue side of the shot, which presumably represents the crossroads of Hell and Heaven. The filmmakers favor devising empathy over force-fed sympathy. It'd be easy to pander for tears through Daigoro and further utilize him to redeem Ogami's past (especially one horrible moment at the film's onset), but rather the film appeals to your understanding of their vengeful needs.

Enough can't be said about the choice to anchor Lone Wolf and Cub on a father-son relationship and making that relationship unique. In terms of genre films, I find that fathers and sons get the short shrift in comparison to the overabundance of mother-daughter explorations, which is likely attributed to the ease in extrapolating pregnancy subtext. Considering the release date, the emphasis on a father-son pairing is especially new-fangled and fresh. The story construction resists framing Ogami and Daigoro's relationship as decidedly masculine or radicially averse from maternal. Instead, the pair simply exist within their situation, living through their journey with callousness certainly driven by vengeance yet sub-textually redolent of a motherless upbringing. This also resonates more fully when juxtaposed against earlier scenes prior to the murder of Ogami's wife where the most emotional and nurturing moments, though fleeting, reside.

All this aside, the film would never reach same heights without the couplet of Tomisaburo Wakayama playing Ogami and Akihiro Tomikawa as Daigoro. Together they imbue their roles with a palpable screen presence. Wakayama isn't the type of lead I would've envisioned. He's something of the anti-Mifune; haggard, seemingly chubby and aged. These physical traits convey the immense weight of his plight, loss and perhaps struggle in living with his past deeds and continued defiance. For Tomikawa, it's impressive enough given his age that he's able to steer clear of joining the ranks of incredibly annoying child actors in genre movies. More than that, the kid delivers a fantastic performance through inaction and remaining unaffected. He's like a little resolute stonewall.

Make or Break - I'm not gonna be cute here and go with something unexpected. The scene that makes this film is where Lone Wolf offers little Cub, who is obviously too young to understand, a very hair-raising choice. He explains that his son must choose between his toy ball or the sword stuck in the floor. If Daigoro opts for his toy ball, it means that he wants to join his mother in Heaven and his father would then kill him. However, if Daigoro chooses the sword, it means that he wishes to remain with his father and Ogami would take him along on this bloody path of revenge. Despite obviously knowing the outcome, the tension welled-up within me as Daigoro crawled toward both the toy ball and the sword. Additionally, I appreciated the inherent underlying commentary about nature vs. nurture as Daigoro arrived at his choice.

MVT - There's a few good options to go with, but I'm going to honor the original creators of the Lone Wolf and Cub manga and screenwriters of the film adaptations, Kazuo Koike and Goseki Kojima. While I've not yet read the comic series, all the research indicates the films are very faithful to the manga in all aspects, including story, shot compositions, the bloodshed, maniacal combat scenes and overall stylistic choices. If not for the platform they established, it seems as though the on-screen product would not have congealed in the same manner.

Score - 8.5/10