Simple titled Zatoichi, this twenty-sixth feature film capped one of Japan’s longest-running and best-loved film franchises. It began in 1962 with the release of The Tale of Zatoichi and appeared to end just over a decade later after series’ star Shintaro Katsu completed number twenty-five, Zatoichi’s Conspiracy (1973). After starring in a handful of other film roles, producing his brother in the Lone Wolf and Cub film adaptations, and playing Ichi in a long-running television series, he returned to the big screen in 1989 for what was to be the ultimate ‘Zatoichi’ film.
The bloodletting is more pronounced and the production is a tad slicker, but Zatoichi is in most respects very much the same as every film that came before it. In making his last film, Katsu crafts what could be considered a ‘best of’ feature that takes some of the more memorable moments in the series and puts them together. The result is a film that is just as entertaining as any in the series, but neither advances the premise nor puts a lid on the legend.
Perhaps the one change is an even greater sense of isolation that Ichi endures. Ever the lone warrior hanging on the fringe of society, he begins his last adventure in jail and suffering a caning for a petty crime. A similar situation occurred at the beginning of Zatoichi and the Doomed Man (1965). While there he meets an idealist, a young man who vows to see their world improve. Of course, for Ichi there is no escaping his violent life among the yakuza who exploit the innocent and only seek bloodshed. Once released from jail, Ichi ends up caught in a struggle between rival yakuza clans, one of which have bought guns from a corrupt official. Everything else leading up to a grand showdown between Ichi and the gun-totting yakuza are all series staples including the innocent children Ichi plays with and protects, the swordsman-for-hire he befriends and inevitably must fight, the obligatory gambling scene, the musical performance, the woman of ill-repute he shares bath and bed with, and the lightning-fast swordplay.
Gore fans can soak up the fountains of blood that every sword victim releases. There’s a beheading or two, gratuitous stabbings, a hilarious wrestling match where Ichi wraps up a victim’s limbs like a pretzel, and a memorable nose job. Even in his late-’50s, Katsu’s distinctive, underhanded cane sword technique is still dazzling. Most of the early fight scenes are typically short with Ichi surrounded and striking in a circular pattern. One scene following Ichi’s winning streak at a gambling hall is spectacular. In one long take that lasts two minutes and forty seconds, Katsu argues with a crowd of angry gamblers, gets accosted, beats up several of them, and finishes with style by insulting the men and their master, a woman whom he eventually beds. This is probably the film’s only bloodless battle, but it illustrates the fine skill with which Katsu combines genuine acting with brief, but uninterrupted fight choreography.
The film’s fight scenes are choreographed by Hiroshi Kuze, a master of the craft whose credits also include Heaven and Earth (1990), The Twilight Samurai (2003), and a PBS documentary entitled Japan: Memoirs of a Secret Empire (2003). He adds a gritty realism to the action, which in past Zatoichi films always bordered on camp. To be sure, there are a couple of exaggerated moments. Katsu repeats a candle resting on the end of a sword trick that first appeared in Zatoichi’s Flashing Sword (1964). There’s also some terrific moments during the final match including a scene where Ichi narrowly dodges spearheads thrust through a wall by sound alone. Though everyone is engaged in a deadly struggle, the scene has a playful quality to it that also emerges at other times. This levity is one of the most endearing aspects of the series, something that Katsu expertly blends into his character’s subtle performance along with sorrow, anger, and reflection.
The really nice thing about Zatoichi is that it stands well on its own. It also makes a nice introduction to the series as it features most of the good stuff from past episodes. Shintaro Katsu is in great form despite his age and in fact, that aspect only gives Ichi more character. But in contrast, anyone looking for closure to Katsu’s portrayal of the character or anything new added to the story will be disappointed. There’s almost a slavish effort at work here to get in as many ‘Zatoichi-isms’ as possible, which does make the story seem more formulaic than usual. Then again, relying on what made the series so popular in the first place isn’t such a bad way to finish.
by Mark Pollard
