• 大菩薩峠 (The Sword of Doom)

6/27/23 (Tues)

Okamoto Kihachi is known for his offbeat approach to his material, so I wasn’t ready for this decidedly bleak 1966 film, which was apparently imposed upon him by the studio. The Japanese title Daibosatsu Toge (The Great Bodhisattva Pass), referring historically to an important mountain pass on the road to Edo, was also the title of an epic 41-volume novel that was published over a 30-year period and had already been filmed multiple times. The name of the peak, these days a relatively easy hike not far from Tokyo, implies the border between this world and a more exalted state and was presumably used in the book as a metaphor. It’s hard to judge that here since the intended trilogy ended with the first film after flopping in Japan (though it did better overseas). Okamoto soon returned to form in the wacky Kill!, but this work has gained in reputation over the years.

In a curious opening, a frail old man, praying at a mountain shrine for an early death to lighten the burden on his granddaughter, gets his wish when a passing samurai murders him emotionlessly on the spot. An Angel of Death? It felt like something was missing; the scene might have made more sense if the trilogy had been completed given the reported Buddhist overtones of the novel.

In any event, we next see the samurai, Ryunosuke (an irreplaceable Nakadai Tatsuya), being asked to throw a kendo match for the sake of his opponent’s household, a request that he barely appears to be acknowledging. When he is approached by the man’s wife Ohama (Aratama Michiyo), he tells her that he will consider her request if she has sex with him – i.e., if he is giving up his good name, she has to give up hers. The opponent is incensed at learning of his wife’s action, mainly because it will call his win into question. To her shock, he serves her notice of divorce and goes to the fight.

The match is attended by familiar real-life names like Hijikata Toshizo and Kondo Isami, members of the future Shinsengumi. When his turn comes, Ryunosuke refrains from attacking, prompting the referee to call a draw and thus presumably sparing the household. But the opponent, still seething, lunges at Ryunosuke, who responds with a fatal blow to the head. As Ryunosuke leaves, the wife, now a widow, begs him to take her along. Big mistake.

Two years later, the perpetually moody Ryunosuke is living with Ohama and their infant son. He learns that Hyoma (Kayama Yuzo), the brother of the man he killed, is on the hunt for him. He discovers that the kid is studying under the master swordsman Shimada (Mifune Toshiro) and plots to kill him. However, doubts about himself begin to arise when he observes Shimada dispel a multi-enemy attack with incredible cool. In addition, his own common-law wife Ohama, sick of Ryunosuke’s cruel treatment, tries to murder him in his sleep, to which he responds by slashing her to death. Rejoining the Shinsengumi group, he is shocked to learn that the geisha sent to service him is the granddaughter of the old man he killed on the mountain.

These events push him over the edge mentally. He starts seeing shadows of enemies and slashes out furiously at them like a latter-day Macbeth, which gives way to an all-out battle against his fellow gang members. Wounded and bleeding, he raises his sword for another blow when the film suddenly stops in a freeze frame, presumably leaving the conclusion for the intended sequel.

Okamoto staged some of the most awesome swordfight sequences ever on film: the attack on Ryunosuke by dozens of assassins on the road after the kendo match; Shimada’s amazing dispatch of the assassins in the snow after they mistakenly attack his carriage; and the final bloody spectacle when Ryunosuke fights off dozens of would-be killers. Perfectly framed and choreographed with inexhaustible variations, less interested in blood and guts than in the big picture. It was exhausting and exhilarating. The only disappointment was that the inevitable battle between Nakadai and Mifune never materialized, again probably a function of the aborted trilogy.

A pity, because both actors were at their peak. Nakadai outdid Zatoichi in his maliciousness, with a profound emptiness in his eyes and posture. I suppose he’s best described as nihilistic, but the result was the same. His character was supposed to represent some sort of karma from a past life, but I suppose I’ll have to go to past film versions for that. Here, he was evil incarnate, his utter lack of human emotion unexplained other than as a personal trait. Whatever it was, it was effective. Mifune in contrast was supremely unruffled and confident, a perfect guru to his students. His fighting, when pushed to the wall, was swift and to the point, and once he removed the threat, his decision to leave the last frightened guy untouched was the act of mercy of a truly content soul. He was the one light in the film’s darkness. Great performance. The contrast between Nakadai’s dreamy, seemingly passive sword style and Mifune’s straightforward approach was a superb study in character. The acting elsewhere was also solid on all fronts. Terrific music as well by Sato Masaru.

Some questions remain unanswered, including the role of the real-life Shinsengumi guys – what were they even doing here? – as well as the strange opening and closing. The film as a whole didn’t make much effort to be liked, which was probably a reason for its poor reception in Japan, but it’s a unique experience to be sure. A classic.