Samurai Rebellion (Jôi-uchi: Hairyô tsuma shimatsu, 1967)

Kobayashi Masaki

Japan

128 mins, black and white, Japanese (English subtitles)

Review © 2001, 2005 Branislav L. Slantchev

Original Review: April 29, 2001

This misleadingly titled film should have probably been called "Defiance" or something that would not suggest a swordplay film with emphasis on bloodshed. I should have known better than be confused by the title (after, it is a Kobayashi film), but I have to admit that I half-expected something of a Zatoichi movie. SAMURAI REBELLION is not one of these, and for the better. Rather, it is a story about the defiance of the cruelty of a clan, a beautiful love, and perhaps a ray of hope. After seeing all these films and reading all these books, one might come away with the impression that the sense of honor-bound duty made most samurai heartless imbeciles. Not so, however, as this work perfectly demonstrates.

The Clan makes its first demand	A forced marriage

The events take place during 1723-5, the peaceful Edo period in Japan, when samurai spend their time testing their lords' swords and guarding borders that no one thinks of challenging. Isaburo Sasahara (Toshiro Mifune) is an aging retainer of Lord Matsudaira. One day, his family is forced to accept one of the Lord's mistresses, Ichi (Yoko Tsukasa), who has fallen out of favor. Despite her giving him an heir, the dirty old scoundrel kicks her out and makes the Sasaharas take her in as a bride for the young Yogoro (Takeshi Kato), Isaburo's oldest son. The two, however, fall in love with each other and have a baby daughter. After two years, however, the Lord's other son dies, making the one he had with Ichi the heir. Naturally, he cannot permit the mother of the future lord to be the wife of a vassal, so he orders her back to the castle. Over the objections of their relatives, Isaburo's wife, and his other son, Isaburo and Yogoro decide to defy the cruel orders.

Lord Matsudaira's bed toy	Gratuitous shot of Tsukasa Yoko

Again, we have the story of a strong love that demands the sacrifice of the lovers when they are faced with an impasse. Ichi cannot forsake her husband, but can she permit him to die for her? Yogoro cannot let his wife go, but can he sacrifice his entire family? The end is predetermined, everyone knows that there is no way the Sasaharas can defy the orders of Lord Matsudaira and survive to tell of the ordeal. Regardless of how good a swordsman Isaburo is, it is unlikely that he will be able to save the young family. It is a greedy and cruel fate that has him perish without a glimpse of hope, unable to complete his mission to Edo.

Just a tranquil and beautiful shot	Her husband is also trying to decide for her

Kobayashi's style is somewhere between Mizoguchi and Kurosawa. He is moody, elegiac, and moving in a deliberately smooth, yet slow, pace. On the other hand, he has a keen eye for positioning actors to fill the entire frame, and suggests emotions with the use of placement, distances, and focus. In one very touching scene, Ichi tells her story to Yogoro, and although one can see how emotionally involved they are with each other, they remain in separate rooms; yet, the distance between them is nonexistent. The director also gives excellent depiction of battles, in which Isaburo fights a seemingly endless supply of opponents, and the duel between him and Taewaki Asano (the perennial Tatsuya Nakadai) is as epic as their other encounters on screen. It also ends the same way as all their other encounters.

Isaburo has literally left the path	Family pressure

Most definitely a film worth seeing many times. The title, as I mentioned, is misleading to the extent that it suggests political intrigue and bloody carnage, so if one comes to the film with such expectations, one is bound to be disappointed. On the other hand, if one comes to see a graceful, yet very sad, story of courage and dedication, one need look no further. I wish the US distributor hadn't taped it with Macrovision, thereby forcing me to rent it every time I want to see the film.

Suddenly abandoned by Yogoro	Isaburo props the faltering spouses

Update: November 9, 2005

Even though I already own the UK R2 DVD of this film (Artsmagic), I quickly upgraded to the superior Criterion as soon as it was released last month. This film is one of the several masterpieces Kobayashi made, and it certainly deserves both the new transfer and the improved subtitles. The DVD is very light on extras (there is a laughable snippet from an interview with the director that is totally uninformative, and a decent essay by Donald Richie that has nothing new for anyone familiar with his work), but the anamorphic transfer makes buying this a no-brainer.

Sure, seppuku, why not?	Everyone must live his own life.

As soon as I watched the film, I realized that I will need to take a fresh look at my original review from four years ago. Revisiting old reviews is something I almost never do, but this time I simply had to because my take on the film has changed somewhat and I thought it might be fun to keep both the first impression and the subsequent, hopefully more mature, one. I will not bother summarizing the film again, as I don't think I have missed the plot the first time around. The difference is all a matter of emphasis.

Ichi's final test	Death is the reward for freedom of will

Even though Isaburo (Mifune) clearly remains the protagonist whose rebellion constitutes the core of the film, I was much taken with two aspects of the plot that I previously missed. First, it is the philosophy underpinning the incredible breach of samurai protocol that Isaburo finally resolves upon. Obviously, he---along with Yogoro (Takeshi Kato) and Ichi (Tsukasa Yoko)---is baited beyond endurance by a lord who cares about nothing except his own pleasure and whim. In Kobayashi's work, this sort of malevolent authority characterizes every world which his protagonists are forced to cope with. The tyrannical, uncaring, and totally exploitative nature of government of any sort (and he is none too subtle poking at the Japanese establishment that clearly parallels the historical setting of this jidai-geki) is pitted against the individual. It is an uneven battle that is unlikely to end well for the individual. Yet rebel he must or else forfeit his soul.

Gratuitous shot of Mifune Toshiro	The evil steward meets his violent end

I am quite wary of using the word "soul" in the previous paragraph for two reasons. First, the samurai soul is supposed to be defined by obedience to the lord. As such, rebellion against the command of the daimyo, however ridiculous such command might be, is not only unthinkable, it is a denial of the very essence of the code. Lord Matsudaira's fleeting desires may rip people's lives asunder, but that does not make him exceptional. So why does Isaburo rebel? Because he eventually comes to realize that one has not lived unless one lives according to his own will. Life spent in silent desperation, in quiet obedience is not one worth living. So the act of rebellion is directed both at the Clan's oppression but, more importantly, at the entire samurai ethic. Isaburo will lose the world to gain his soul, the way he chooses to define the latter. He is very explicit in this, stating that everyone must live his own life regardless of the consequences for the others. This is quite novel and startling: for here individuality trumps duty, loyalty, and even family. Although he is stirred into this reappraisal of his life by the threatened love between his son and his wife, in the end his affirmation of the self is entirely personal, inward-looking, and exclusive in its sacrifice of everybody else.

On the road to Edo, to denounce the Clan	Confrontation with a duty-bound friend

The other discovery I made this time around is that I was very much impressed with Ichi. I had taken her to be a mere trigger, a person whose misfortune at the hands of the clan only serves to put into motion the chain of events that will eventually cause Isaburo's revolt. But I was wrong, for Ichi's transformation and resolute defiance is perhaps even more memorable. First, she is a woman. I cannot stress this enough, for in feudal Japan she was not supposed to have any voice. She is tossed around like a doll, her fiancee sells her out, her father forces her to accept the "proposal" of the Lord, and when she lashes out at that lord because his philandering has reduced her sacrifice to nothing, she is quickly discarded, apparently never to see the son she bore him ever again. When Yogoro marries her and fully accepts her into the Sasahara family, she resolves to stay with him. And when the Clan demands that she return, she refuses.

The final doomed charge	Defiance

At this point, she has to undergo a series of ever more trying tests of her resolve. At first, the immediate family puts pressure on her, then the extended family demands that she reconsider, and then even Yogoro breaks down under the strain and begs her to leave. At this point she falters but Isaburo strengthens her, and props his son as well. But then she is lured to the chamberlain's residence where the clan confronts her with the choice between accepting their demands and suffering to have Isaburo and Yogoro commit seppuku. And in the end, she must make a similar choice yet again: will she go quietly and save their lives or will she stick to her decision and cause their deaths. The philosophy underlying Isaburo's rebellion is here fully realized, for she chooses to remain unbowed. Because there is no way out of the predicament, she frees Isaburo and Yogoro from depending on her by committing suicide. Her act of defiance is ultimately the more potent one because it comes from a person who has been groomed to obey all her life and to put the well-being of others before hers. Her tragic challenge to authority ends in her death (as it must) but then again she has managed to be alive.

November 9, 2005