• 御用金 (Goyokin)

5/26/23 (Thurs)

Gosha Hideo’s 1959 film finds the young Oriha returning to her seaside village after five years of indentured service to discover a town devoid of all life other than Hitchcockian groups of greedy crows. Everyone has vanished without a trace. We learn that Rokugo (Tamba Tetsuro), the chief samurai of the fictional Sabai clan (presumably modeled on the real-life Sabae clan in present-day Fukui Prefecture), had waylaid a ship carrying the shogun’s gold from nearby Sado Island, recruited the villagers to steal the treasure, and allowed the ship to sink, thus making it appear an accident. He then had his men slaughter the villagers to prevent word getting back to the shogunate, and spread the word that their disappearance was the work of magical forces known by the superstitious as kami-kakushi, literally “hidden by the gods”. (The phrase is interestingly left untranslated in the subtitles. It was deftly rendered in the title of a later animated film as “Spirited Away”.)

Rokugo’s childhood friend, retainer and brother-in-law Magobei (Nakadai Tatsuya) is disgusted by the heartless murder of innocents. Rokugo explains, not unreasonably, that the shogun has left him little choice: the huge taxes imposed by the regime have led to crushing poverty throughout the domain, forcing him to steal the money to feed his people – in other words, he is stealing from the shogun to pay the shogun. If word were to get out about that, the regime would dissolve the clan, leaving thousands in misery. Rokugo thus justifies the massacre by citing his loyalty to his clan, i.e., his reprehensible actions are being taken for a higher cause. Magobei, though not at all convinced, simply promises not to report the incident as long as it is not repeated. He cuts all ties with the clan, including his wife, and departs for Edo, where he lives with the heavy guilt of his failure to step in.

Three years later, Magobei is attacked in Edo by three would-be assassins. He makes short work of them, but learns to his surprise that they have been sent by Rokugo. He realizes immediately that if the clan wants him out of the way after all this time, it must be aiming at another ship, meaning that another village is in danger. Determined not to allow another tragedy, he resolves to return to the scene and stop it.

The story is straightforward and compelling, and the director keeps things moving at a swift pace. He relies on some improbable sword play and knife throwing as well as some superhero-type escapes; in one dubious scene, Magobei, bound in ropes and deep in a snow bank, somehow pops up Marvel-like just in time to take on the enemy. Still, the sword fights are excitingly choreographed, with an especially thrilling battle carried out, atypically for a chambara flick, in the snow. The film also boasts terrific cinematography on a large canvas (it was Japan’s first film to use Panavision) and great lighting effects with a generally muted color scheme. The mood perfectly evoked the harsh Japan Sea coast setting. The grim determination of the lone samurai to do the right thing against outsized odds was reminiscent of a Western, even more so with Sato Masaru’s memorable music at the end as the hero walks off in the snow.

As with so many chambara films of the 1960s, Gosha takes a critical look at the samurai system. As noted, he is even-handed in a sense, as his ostensible bad guy, Rokugo, makes clear that he’s behaving not out of selfishness but of loyalty to his clan, declaring that this is the “way of the samurai”. He feels in that context that his murderous actions are justified. The film thus questions this ethos of loyalty itself. When his wife says after the villagers are saved that the festival music is like a celebration, Matobei counters bleakly that it’s rather a dirge for the way of the samurai. (Reminds me of a line in another film released the same year, Once Upon a Time in the West: “Just a man,” says one character, to which another answers, “An ancient race.”) The theme was well worn in those days, but the presentation here was highly effective.

The film offers sharp characterizations, including Oriha, the sole survivor of the village and now a hardened crook; Samon, a wandering ronin who turns out to be a spy from the shogunate; and Shino, Rokugo’s abandoned wife, who thinks she can win her husband over again. Nakadai Tatsuya gives another intense performance as a samurai with a dead heart who finds renewed meaning in life in taking on the system in defense of the innocent. He is the epitome of cool, with the most expressive eyes in Japanese cinema. Tamba Tetsuro is an ideal foil as the crafty Rokugo. Those two easily carry the film, but they are ably supported by a strong all-around cast, especially Kabuki actor Nakamura Kinnosuke as Samon (a part initially intended for Mifune Toshiro, who apparently had filmed 80% of his part before quitting in a fit of pique – would love to see that footage), Tsukasa Yoko as the wife, and Asaoka Ruriko as Oriha in both her younger innocent days and jaded present. The film apparently was not well received by the critics but a big commercial success in its day. I think audiences got it right.