When one thinks of Hawaii in context of filmmaking, most people might find it difficult to name filmmakers or movies that originate from the state of Palm trees and Hula dancing, despite the popularity of television series HAWAII FIVE-O and MAGNUM P.I. One exception is the export of popular celebrities such as Keanu Reeves (THE MATRIX), The Rock (THE RUNDOWN) and Kelly Hu (CRADLE 2 THE GRAVE).

But, given that Hawaii is also home to a robust community of martial arts practitioners, it would seem like an ideal place to recruit talent for a locally produced action film. Enter director and writer Aaron Yamasato who, inspired in part by the maverick filmmaking of Robert Rodriguez, created BLOOD OF THE SAMURAI, a feature-length throwback to the ’80s hack ‘n’ slash cult films of Japan and Hollywood.

At the film’s Honolulu premiere and subsequently on it’s screener, Yamasato wisely sets the tone for the film by requesting raucous audience participation, something theater goers usually frown on in the age of $10 tickets and ads reminding you to turn off your cel phones. With this in mind, BLOOD OF THE SAMURAI is pure camp delight on a $2000 budget that ekes out every drop of entertainment possible and then some.

The premise is suitably outrageous and well conceived. Two samurai swords haunted by the spirits of their dead owners come into the possession of a pair of knuckleheads who decide to play samurai and watch several video rentals including SHOGUN ASSASSIN (1980). Rob (Michael Ng) wakes up in the night possessed by one of the dead samurai and tries to kill his friend Trent (Bryan Yamasaki) – something I’m sure we can all relate to.

Meanwhile, a mysterious killer with twin crossbows named The Hunter (Shawn Forsythe) is hot on the trail of the swords. After turning a victim into a pin cushion, The Hunter attacks Trent who has gained the skills of a samurai without the nasty side effect of being possessed. The Hunter retreats to his warehouse hideout with Trent’s girlfriend as hostage. Trent enlists the aid of a Shinto priest who relays the story of the swords’ original owners and offers a way to help Rob who has now been recruited by The Hunter. Trent confronts The Hunter, but is forced to literally slice through several thugs and take on his pal Rob.

The beauty of this film is that Yamasato has a good understanding of cult cinema and does a great job of breathing the same kind of kinetic life that inhabits the best of the genre into his work. The camera work is not always consistent, but incorporation of extreme close-ups and intentionally jumpy panning adds edgy excitement to the action. The violence is over-the-top and more intentionally comical than shocking.

The showstopper actually kicks off the film and involves an impressive head-splitting sequence. MONTY PYTHON-like geysers of blood and a beheading only add to the marvelous mayhem. The swordplay is performed reasonably well thanks to action director Leroy Barlett who also appears as one of The Hunter’s henchmen. It’s great to see the end battle in the warehouse given plenty of time to play out. None of the actors are martial artists and no one is doing anything spectacular, but Yamasato’s focused direction keeps the excitement level high. I’m no Iaido expert, but their stances and attacks look good enough for film production.

Good lighting, which requires expensive equipment and a competent art director, is hard to come by in any low budget film and this is no exception. Many of the scenes are poorly lit and this does detract from the overall presentation. Likewise, the limited dialogue infrequently sinks from campy to just amateurish. An impressive flashback sequence depicts the original owners of the swords and their rivalry over the love of a woman. The scene is set around a classic Japanese structure and features actors in period costume which looks terrific. Without Japanese-speaking actors the scene has to be acted out with narrative. This would have worked fine if not for a few lines of Japanese that were awkwardly dubbed in.

Niggling gripes aside, Aaron Yamasato has pulled off an impressive feat. A lot more money has been spent on shorter films that fail to offer a smidgeon of the fun that BLOOD OF THE SAMURAI generates. This is the sort of entertainment that parents frowned on and you relished with awe as a child. It’s gratuitously maniacal, unabashedly raw and displays noteworthy talent from a rising filmmaker. Now that’s something to hoot and hollow about at the theater.

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