Rating: 4.5/5
Asian Cinema Challenge 2023 | 11/52 | Samurai Cinema
During the powerful Tokugawa regime in Edo (present-day Tokyo), there were 264 lords or daimyo. These feudal lords ruled their clans and the people under them. This story took place in one of these clans in 1725.
Far above, we see the peaking roof of the Aizu Clan Domain — intricate and harmonious. The sword of Isaburo blurs in and out of focus as the focus shifts to Isaburo standing behind it, considering his move. His rival Tatewaki watches as he deftly makes one cut through the straw figure, proving the mettle of the sword of his daimyo, Masakata Matsudaira. As Isaburo and Tatewaki walk, Isaburo laments his loveless marriage of twenty years to Suga and voices his longing for his elder son, Yogoro, to meet someone who will be strong and loving.
Back home, a steward of the daimyo awaits Isaburo. The daimyo had dismissed Lady Ichi, his concubine, from the castle for attacking the daimyo when she caught him with another woman. They decree that Yogoro will marry Lady Ichi. The steward will return for an answer. Suga worries that the daimyo dismissed Lady Ichi when Ichi bore him a son. Their younger son, Bunzo, knows they cannot disobey a daimyo’s order. The circumstances are not too different from Isaburo and Suga’s marriage, and he worries that, despite the promise of a larger fief, the marriage will bring further unhappiness to his family.
So, when the steward returns for an answer, Isaburo declines, stating that his family is unworthy of such an honor. But the steward reminds him that to decline is to defy an order. Yogoro intervenes and states that he wishes to accept the honor. The two marry, and Ichi takes on the domestic duties—the two fall in love. Isaburo seeks retirement, asking that Yogoro take his place. Isaburo tries to get Ichi to stop tolerating Suga’s belittling, but Ichi will treat her as a mother. Her demeanor raises questions about how she could have attacked the daimyo.
The film follows the family as they learn the truth. When the daimyo’s heir dies, Ichi’s son becomes the heir, meaning the daimyo will demand Ichi’s return. Will the family give up their happiness and honor the daimyo’s wishes?
Samurai Rebellion has a bit of a misleading title. Yes, there are samurai who rebel. However, the film is based on a story whose title loosely translates to “Receive the Wife” and focuses on the woman who would become the samurai’s wife. That isn’t to say it isn’t a samurai picture — this is, after all, the same director who gave Letterboxd one of their favorite films, Harakiri. But the film reminds us that there is more to life than martial arts.
Though the film uses Isaburo as our entry point to the story, it is Yōko Tsukasa’s Ichi who becomes the film’s true protagonist. Her story is more detailed, and her performance is the most dynamic and nuanced of all. She brings the subtleties from her work on Ozu films, and the movie comes to life. It’s a bit of an irony that she would only stay active for a few more years before slowing down to care for a family. I don’t have to tell you that Mifune is great as well.
Like Harakiri, the film employs compositions to position its characters and convey their condition beyond the exchange of words. These characters are trapped in their circumstances, conveyed through high castle walls. When characters are in harmony, they are equidistant from one another—when there is strife, asymmetry distorts. Also, like Harakiri, the film is steeped in the aesthetics of traditional Japanese art.
Where this film differs is in its intensity of aesthetic considerations, taking the lessons learned and applying them to a new widescreen format. The compositions are considered and meticulous. Also, the characterization is more complex—we deal with some “villains” whose motivations we understand but still root against.
Director Masaki Kobayashi once said that all of his films are studies “of the individual against society.” Here, we fall into that system, fighting against something entirely artificial and yet bigger than any one person can face. This line of inquiry is where the film has its most significant relevance, as we see countries like the USA succumb to populist rhetoric, further isolating individuals from the means of organizing and a sense of community. Perhaps this film can show the viewer that, even when you follow all the rules, the system can turn on you at any moment.
In the end, I prefer this one a bit more to Harakiri, if only because I find its concern with domestic affairs more moving and its aesthetic achievements richer and compelling.