• 黒牢城 (The Samurai and the Prisoner)

8/5/26 (Wed)

Kurosawa Kiyoshi makes a rare venture into period pieces with this detective story posing as a samurai drama, based on a Naoki Prize-winning novel of 2021. The creative Japanese title translates as “Black Prison Castle”, referring to the dungeon in which one character is held, the castle itself that the lord has effectively made a prison, and the dark mindset in which the lord resides. I thought this might be an historical nickname for the real-life structure, which is actually named Arioka Castle, but it’s apparently an invention by the book’s author and is not mentioned in either the book or screenplay. It’s been noted that “kuro” (black) is part of the hostage’s name (Kuroda) and thus may be a subtle reference to him as well. Whatever. I assume that US distributors felt it necessary to throw “samurai” in as a marketing ploy, but I really wish they’d use some imagination. (For one thing, the lead is a daimyo, not a mere samurai, though I’m sure the distributors will argue that it’s a comment on the role reversal in the story.)

The plot draws from the life of Settsu daimyo Araki Murashige, who is said to have opposed the increasingly dictatorial Oda Nobunaga. Araki has barricaded himself in his castle, holding off the Oda troops as he awaits hoped-for reinforcements from the Himeji-based Mori clan. Nobunaga has sent an envoy, Araki’s old friend Kuroda Kanbei, to convince the daimyo to cooperate. Araki has no intention of doing so but, instead of killing the emissary outright as normally expected, throws him into the dungeon in solitary confinement. The envoy begs to be killed, worried that Nobunaga could think that he has deserted and thus take revenge on his family.

That much is history. The film weaves from that an intricate story of intrigue within the castle that leads the daimyo to depend on Kanbei’s Sherlock Holmes-like deductive powers. It involves four episodes unfolding over succeeding seasons that initially do not appear connected – the death of a child hostage in a closed room; a brouhaha over a severed head; the death of a priest carrying a prized tea urn and important message for Akechi Mitsuhide (who, audiences know, would go on to assassinate Nobunaga) about a possible alliance; and the death of the priest’s murderer by a mysterious gunshot (and a bolt of lightning) at a crucial moment.

In each incident, Araki is confounded despite the carefully assembled evidence and testimony, only for Kanbei to piece together the links and identify the culprit. Kanbei’s answers can be cryptic, in one case taking the form of a poem, but he offers just enough hints to lead Araki to the answer. With the prisoner’s guidance, Araki comes to realize that the incidents have been directed from within, and his suspicions turn to his own wife. Confronted, she confesses everything, saying that she wanted to show the suffering people that war and victory were not the only way to paradise, a direct refutation of the common Buddhist phrase of that era, “Advance to paradise, retreat to hell” (i.e., going forward, such as in war, is glorious, while retreating is ignominious). She believes commoners are less fearful of death than the hereafter and, by making the various deaths appear to be divine punishment, hopes to convince them that retreat may also be rewarded in the afterlife, thus discouraging the endless conflicts of that period.

Araki unshackles Kanbei and comes to drink with him frequently. The daimyo’s doubts and personal morals, especially his noble reluctance to kill hostages, can have deadly effects and are beginning to impact morale among his retainers. Kanbei reads the daimyo’s hesitant personality well. He notes pointedly that the retainers, as natives of Settsu, could simply surrender to Oda with no recourse, whereas the consequences would be dire for Araki, who was born elsewhere. Kanbei’s main insight is that Araki’s preconceived notions are blocking him from arriving at solutions. For instance, the daimyo had assumed that the priest’s assassin was after the valuable tea urn, whereas the truth was that the latter was after the letter and needed the urn’s container only as an excuse without even knowing what was inside. It was by breaking through such misconceptions that Araki could proceed.

Kanbei eventually learns that Nobunaga has branded him a traitor and, as feared, executed his son. He thus agrees tearfully to serve Araki. However, that relationship is challenged. Mori’s failure to provide aid has raised disquiet among Araki’s retainers. The daimyo had hoped to appease Nobunaga by handing over the priest’s murderer, but pulls back when he learns of his wife’s role. Kanbei thus suggests that Araki sneak out of the castle to appeal directly to Mori. The daimyo, initially impressed by this idea, suddenly realizes that his imprisoned confidante has been setting him up all along. His situation has weakened considerably after all this waiting, and he is no longer in any position to bargain with either Mori or Nobunaga. Moreover, leaving the castle would be seen by his men as abandonment, branding him a traitor.

Nevertheless, he takes the advice and goes off virtually alone, telling his main retainer to label him a villain if the castle should fall in his absence. As it happens, his desertion allows the castle to fall without consequence. That is, his action, seen on the surface as cowardly, helped directly to avoid bloodshed and more war. An epilogue tells us that Nobunaga lost his life in the Honnoji coup d’état three years later, while Araki became a revered tea master – in fact, a disciple of no less than Sen no Rikyu. (Oddly, I don’t recall anything in the film about the fate of Kanbei, who in real life was rescued and went on to serve Hideyoshi. He also learned that his son had survived after secretly being protected by a sympathizer, who had presented a false corpse in his place.)

The synopsis in Wikipedia had me totally confused due to the large number of characters, but I had no problem in the movie itself, though I suppose it does help to know at least the big names like Nobunaga and Akechi. The nearly 2.5-hour running time flew by. The Miss Marple revelations could be contrived, such as the public unveiling of the priest’s murderer (“and then you did this, and then that, but little did you know that…”) and the murderer’s overwrought reaction, which took him to precisely the spot that his own assassin would be targeting. Also, it’s not clear, for instance, how Araki removed the bullet from the guy’s chest without others seeing it. And then there’s that lightning bolt that struck the character at precisely the moment mid-sentence that he was going to spill a key bit of information. Nevertheless, I suppose we have to accept that as part of the mystery genre, and it was carried off with aplomb.

Kurosawa makes a confident entry into the period genre, making great use of location spots like the awesome Himeji and Hikone Castles. The cinematography definitely makes this a film for the big screen. This is more a character study than a samurai flick, so the director is in his element. Several scenes were ably captured in prolonged single shots that give it the feel (in a good way) of a stage show, bolstered by strong acting all around. Kurosawa was lucky or smart enough to assemble a cast of solid pros, led by a terrific Motoki Masahiro (Departures) as the Hamlet-like Araki and Suda Masaki as Kanbei. It has already become the director’s biggest domestic hit ever, his first to top ¥1 billion in revenues. It’s nice to see that they’re showing this in some Japanese theaters with English subtitles, a fairly rare move (last seen with Kokuho). Whether it will appeal to audiences less familiar with Japanese history or culture remains to be seen; it doesn’t offer much of the swordplay that the samurai title may suggest, and the pace is gradual. But it’s really more about mind games than history and offers tremendous visuals and sharply drawn characters. Thumbs up.