Review: The Sword of Doom
Of all the samurai movies ever made, The Sword of Doom (1966) is probably the one that speaks to martial artists the most (at least the martial artists I know). This isn’t surprising since much of the film involves the characters taking part in kendo (fencing) activities—training halls, tournaments, discussing strategy in terms of kendo philosophy and methods (I can’t recall a discussion of tsuke—throat strikes—taking place in any film I’ve ever seen). The backdrop of the film also has a kendo connection, taking place during the last days of the Tokugawa Shogunate and the intrigues of the ruthless Shinsengumi organization, which was formed from the members of several kendo dojos.
Upon repeated viewings, however, there is an undercurrent that could (but doesn’t) make the film less popular with (or relevant for) martial artists. The film is highly subversive, taking several tropes found in the typical samurai film and turning them on their head (part of this may also be a result that The Sword of Doom was originally intended to be the first of two films—more about that later). The anti-hero is Ryunosuke Tsukue (Tatsuya Nakadai), the heir-apparent of a powerful samurai family who live in the shadow of Dai-bosatsu pass (indicative of how important this setting is—the Japanese name of the film translates at Incident at Dai-bosatsu tôge). One day he comes upon an elderly pilgrim who is praying for an end of his life. Ryunosuke obliges with callous efficiency, orphaning the man’s young granddaughter, Omatsu. Later Ryunosuke receives entreaties from his father to throw a kendo match, thus allowing his opponent to secure a lucrative teaching position. Ryunosuke agrees only after the opponent’s wife gives herself to him.The duel ends badly with Ryunosuke killing his opponent and fleeing with his opponent’s wife in tow. He soon finds himself working as an assassin for the powerful and ruthless Shinsengumi (a private police force employed by the shogunate in Kyoto), and drinking himself into oblivion between his increasingly bloody assignments. On the face of it, Ryunosuke is an evil man—he does evil almost from the first frame of The Sword of Doom. He’s ruthless, no doubt, but looked at another way his increasing depravity is more a result of the reaction of those who want to continue the status quo. The key moment is his killing of the old pilgrim—was this an act of mercy or was it an act of cruelty? That is the psychological crux of the film. That his cruelty intensifies and his soul becomes more poisoned is the answer. But is it? Is it that director Kihachi Okamoto is really commenting on the samurai ethos that led Ryunosuke to this point? The samurai, as they are portrayed in fiction and idealized in fact, were larger than life characters who were both servitors and rulers of the people. Carrying a sword gave you the power of life and death—a power that was to be used in the pursuit of justice. Status was also a question of ability (and anyone who has trained in kendo will understand why Ryunosuke chafes under his father’s edict to throw his upcoming match). It was an impossible standard, and one that Ryunosuke tries to live up to but can’t—both because of the realities of life and his own cruel personality.
The only truly heroic character comes in the form of the thief, Shichibei (Kô Nishimura). He is shown saving his adopted niece, Omatsu, from a fate worse than death (another instance of the noble samurai as debased) and exacting a form of justice that is both excessive and thoroughly satisfying. He is the new man of the Meiji era and, at the end, when he shows that he has adapted with the times by carrying a firearm, we know who will ultimately survive the chaos and death surrounding everyone in the changing world.
The ending of The Sword of Doom (which deserves its own, exhaustive study) will probably be most frustrating for the first-time viewer. But subsequent viewings reveal its brilliance. Again, probably resulting as it became clear there would not be the planned sequel, the film ends in a delirious frenzy of nihilism. Ryunosuke, haunted by the evil he has done and Shimada’s words, begins killing everyone in his path (primarily his Shinsengumi comrades). His world literally becomes consumed in flames and blood, and it ends in a freeze frame, presumably moments before his final doom. Though this is not historically accurate (the Shinsengumi were destroyed in an equally spectacular fashion by the Meiji government), the absolute nihilism and the fact that Ryunosuke is destroyed from within, makes The Sword of Doom much more than a simple “sword fighting” flick. It is only the non-samurai, namely Shichibei, who is shown to be acting nobly (in that he is acting to save someone, not revenge himself or defend himself against an unjustified act or kill for money).The Sword of Doom definitely rewards on repeated viewings. And it’s one of those movies that should be viewed more than once, particularly to catch all of the historical nuances (and there are many). Even if you don’t get all of the historical references or understand the ins and outs of kendo, watching the movie for the story of Ryunosuke alone is worth your time.
The film is beautifully photographed (in stunning black and white—which serves to add to the starkness of the story) and the fight scenes are among the best you’ll see.For kendo or martial arts enthusiasts, I’d say this is a must buy. Four stars out of four.
Comments
Just queued in my Blockbuster account.
I haven't seen very many samurai films (Seven Samurai, Shogun Assassin and a couple of the other Lone Wold and Cubs), but I like ones I see.
Posted by: trey | July 18, 2007 05:58 PM