Sword of Doom

Many Americans have trouble watching and enjoying Japanese cinema. Obviously, there are exceptions (anime, Godzilla). But Japanese films tend to unfold very differently from Western, particularly American, movies.

To me, the biggest difference comes down to focus. Americans like their films as direct as possible - we want to know exactly what the film's about within the first 10 minutes. Just about every mainstream American film, in fact, contains a single line of dialogue in its first 15 minutes that explains the entire plot. Often, it's in the trailer. Like, "You mean you're going to steal the Declaration of Independence?" Or "There's an asteroid heading this way that's twice the size of Texas!" Or one of my personal favorites..."You mean there's snakes out there this big?"

Japanese movies, on the other hand, frequently introduce characters and situations, and then riff on them for a while. Rather than one simple narrative with a beginning, middle and end, Japanese films often have several threads that can be picked up or dropped with little advance notice or apparently purpose.

Obviously, these are generalizations. I can think of plenty of extremely straightforward Asian films and many complex, densely constructed American movies. But it's still valid, dammit!



Take Kihachi Okamoto's 1966 samurai classic Sword of Doom, for example. If this were an American film, it would probably be told very simply from a narrative standpoint. A somewhat unhinged roaming samurai (Tatsuya Nakadai) during the last days of the Shogunate kills a sparring partner during a non-fatal kendo match, after which he takes the dead man's wife as a mistress. He earns the vengeance of the dead man's associates, as well as his brother Hyoma (Yuzo Kayama). Eventually, his violent misdeeds catch up with him, driving him to madness.

There you go. 90 minutes, some quick-cut edits and a moody, electronic soundtrack, and you've got yourself a movie. But under the direction of Okamoto, Sword of Doom drifts around, telling the story of not just semi-crazed samurai Ryunosuke, but taking as much of the atmosphere of 1860 Japan as possible.

He takes the time to establish Hyoma as a character, and even show his training under the expert hand of Shimida (the legendary Toshiro Mifune, in a wonderful supporting role). Likewise, he presents the widow Ohama as a complex woman full of contradictions. She offers herself to Ryunosuke before his match with her husband, in some ways causing his eventual death. Afterwards, she begs Ryunosuke to take her along with him on his travels, but soon enough becomes vengeful towards him. Only after she has borne him a son does she realize the error of her decision-making.

This lack of focus enhances the realism and scope of the film, but can also try your patience. Attempting to follow the film's story in any objective way becomes a lost cause on the first few viewings. Complicated political and social situations are often glossed over quickly, and characters appear and then disappear quickly and without much provocation. The best way to watch a film like Sword of Doom is as a collection of stories bound together by a common theme and style. Some are action-packed, others melodramatic and intense, and others slow-building and emotionally draining. By the film's end, you've really heard a complete story, whether or not it all made sense in the telling.

The beautiful black and white cinematography makes up for some narrative incoherence, anyway. This is among the best-looking samurai films of the period (and that's really saying something). The action sequences are well shot, particularly the bloody brothel-set finale. And even Mifune, not famed for his ability with swordplay, gets a punchy, exciting action scene of his own.

This was the second time I've seen Sword of Doom. Upon my initial viewing, I saw Ryunosuke as a complete psychopath, killing scores of people without rhyme or reason. But after this second viewing, I think that judgement may have been a bit rash. Often, the whims of other characters force his hand. He refuses to fight with Shimida out of respect for the man's noble nature. And, after all, he's eventually driven mad by his guilt over the murders he's committed. At the film's opening, Ryunosuke's father disowns his son, citing his extreme distress over the boy's unconventional and deathly fighting style.

As in that sequence, it's precisely Ryunosuke's fantastic abilities with the sword that will be his downfall. The Doom of the title at first seems to refer to those who will die by Ryunosuke's blade, but it comes to refer, I think, to the man's own downfall.