The film stars Ichikawa Ebizō XI, Eita, Hikari Mitsushima, Naoto Takenaka, Munetaka Aoki, Hirofumi Arai, Kazuki Namioka, and Kōji Yakusho. Brilliant performances were given by the cast, with Ichikawa Ebizō XI, like Tatsuya Nakadai, gave a Mifune-like performance.
It being gory is not the best way to deplore wanton bloodshed, Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai still looks splendid with its measured tracking shots, its slow zooms, its reflective overhead shots of the courtyard, and its frequent poised immobility. Miike does superb things with architectural compositions, moving forms and occasionally turbulent gyrations of struggling figures in the 3D format. He achieves a sort of visual mesmerization that is suitable to the curious nightmare mood. The beauty of it seems largely due to Miike’s underlying firmness of conception and prevailing spirit, by an unevasive concern for cinematic values. It avoids the sentimentality of some of his earlier films, such as 13 Assassins (2010) through a new emphasis on visual-auditory aesthetics with the cold formality of compositions and Ryuichi Sakamoto's score. But none of Kobayashi's social protests is diminished in the film's construction--it's Mizoguchi-like circularity bitterly denies any hope for human progress. Samurai films, like westerns, need not be familiar genre stories. They can expand to contain stories of ethical challenges and human tragedy. It, one of the best of them, is about an older wandering samurai who takes his time to create an unanswerable dilemma for the elder of a powerful clan. By playing strictly within the rules of Bushido Code which governs the conduct of all samurai, he lures the powerful leader into a situation where sheer naked logic leaves him humiliated before his retainers. It would be wrong for me to reveal the details of the story Tsugumo tells. What I can say is that it is heartbreaking. Both a thrilling character piece and a scathing take down of authority, the film is a tour-de-force and a compelling look into the facade of institutions. It is a masterful chess game, filled with many carefully constructed moves, each arranged to fit in a particular place. It's glorious to behold. It has a steady, hypnotic momentum; Miike wrings as much drama out of facial twitches as he does out of sword fights. The 3D remake uses ploys of the written word in picturing the past and/or far away to criticize the present. Even if Miike's third samurai film is an exemplary tale speaking as much to our own times as to Japan's feudal era, it is also a ripping yarn, keeping the viewer gripped with its jigsaw structure and intense performances.
It being gory is not the best way to deplore wanton bloodshed, Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai still looks splendid with its measured tracking shots, its slow zooms, its reflective overhead shots of the courtyard, and its frequent poised immobility. Miike does superb things with architectural compositions, moving forms and occasionally turbulent gyrations of struggling figures in the 3D format. He achieves a sort of visual mesmerization that is suitable to the curious nightmare mood. The beauty of it seems largely due to Miike’s underlying firmness of conception and prevailing spirit, by an unevasive concern for cinematic values. It avoids the sentimentality of some of his earlier films, such as 13 Assassins (2010) through a new emphasis on visual-auditory aesthetics with the cold formality of compositions and Ryuichi Sakamoto's score. But none of Kobayashi's social protests is diminished in the film's construction--it's Mizoguchi-like circularity bitterly denies any hope for human progress. Samurai films, like westerns, need not be familiar genre stories. They can expand to contain stories of ethical challenges and human tragedy. It, one of the best of them, is about an older wandering samurai who takes his time to create an unanswerable dilemma for the elder of a powerful clan. By playing strictly within the rules of Bushido Code which governs the conduct of all samurai, he lures the powerful leader into a situation where sheer naked logic leaves him humiliated before his retainers. It would be wrong for me to reveal the details of the story Tsugumo tells. What I can say is that it is heartbreaking. Both a thrilling character piece and a scathing take down of authority, the film is a tour-de-force and a compelling look into the facade of institutions. It is a masterful chess game, filled with many carefully constructed moves, each arranged to fit in a particular place. It's glorious to behold. It has a steady, hypnotic momentum; Miike wrings as much drama out of facial twitches as he does out of sword fights. The 3D remake uses ploys of the written word in picturing the past and/or far away to criticize the present. Even if Miike's third samurai film is an exemplary tale speaking as much to our own times as to Japan's feudal era, it is also a ripping yarn, keeping the viewer gripped with its jigsaw structure and intense performances.
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