‘The Samurai and the Prisoner’ film review: Action is mightier than the sword in Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s dialogue-packed historical mystery novel

Japanese genre veteran Kiyoshi Kurosawa is mostly known outside his homeland for quirky and visually innovative films such as medicine, to throb and loft Which brought the J-horror trend to art house. But he also made psychological thrillers (fishy), serial killer flicks (Snake roadscience fiction movies (Before we disappear), a darkly comedic anti-capitalist activist (last year clouds(and at least one great drama)Tokyo Sonata).

The author can now cross another genre off his list with The samurai and the prisoner (Kokorojo), a lavish and rather suspenseful historical mystery set during the 16th century, a time when warring clans were fighting and outmaneuvering each other for control of the land.

Based on Honobu Yonezawa’s award-winning 2021 novel, the film tells a story that will probably be familiar to anyone who grew up in Japan. It then takes this classic narrative and adds some new twists, plus a decidedly anti-war message that seems to speak to our times as well.

The tale of Lord Murashige Araki (Masahiro Motoki), who betrayed the notorious samurai leader and “Great Unifier” of Japan, Nobunaga Oda (Bandō Shingo), is usually portrayed as a tale of betrayal and cowardice: an ambitious vassal cuts ties with his powerful boss, hides out in his own castle surrounded by a small but loyal army, and finally decides to abandon ship.

Kurosawa, who adapted the script himself, turns Murashige’s long last stand into four interconnected mysteries each spanning a season. Unlike Agatha Christie’s Murder, but featuring katana instead of poison and pistols, all of the stories depict a seemingly impossible crime that Murashige must somehow solve. Unable to do it alone, he seeks the help of Kanbei Kuroda (Masaki Suda), a loyal lieutenant of Nobunaga who has been captured in the castle and offers to be Sherlock Murashige’s Watson, even if the detainee is not trusted.

This sounds like the perfect setting for a feudal thriller – think about it Knives out meet Throne of blood – Where Kurosawa (no relation to Akira) can showcase his talent for depicting violence and madness, this time within elegant medieval sets designed by Harada Tetsu (The last ronin). But the director more or less chooses to avoid violence altogether, presenting a chatty, more conventionally crafted drama than anything he’s directed to date. Even when there is little action, it is fairly short and bloodless – more suggestive than profound.

In some ways this makes sense: the main reason Murashige frustrates Nobunaga in the first place is because he rejects his leader’s brutal methods, as evidenced by a flashback in which he has to behead a group of innocent women. (Okay, there are some beheadings here, but even those look fairly clean.) Unlike most samurai of his era, Murashige is thoughtful and cultured and believes that violence is never the answer—a philosophy that comes back to haunt him, especially in the final act.

The director’s sober and subtle approach to such material does not necessarily appeal to the viewer, although a Japanese audience familiar with the characters and stakes may be more easily drawn in. One problem is that Kurosawa ends up repeating the same scenario every time, even if the crimes, victims and perpetrators are different: after investigating for a while alone, Murashige confides in his wife Chiho (Yuriko Yoshitaka), who turns out to be less innocent than she initially appears. He then heads to the dungeon for a long conversation with Kanbei, who sifts through stacks of calligraphy like a detective mulling over evidence files, and offers a hypothesis about what really happened.

Not that there’s a lack of action here, but anyone would expect this to be called a movie The samurai and the prisoner It will be full of great action scenes and you will be disappointed. Kurosawa instead chose to direct a polished murder mystery dressed in lavish feudal garb, offering his own take on one of Japan’s oldest genres. What’s more, he has made a work that questions the kind of violence that has characterized most of his cinema, celebrating a mythical figure who decided to turn away from war rather than wage it. Classic and assured (the action rarely ventures outside the castle), it’s a samurai film that ultimately ends with the condemnation of the sacred law by which all samurai used to live.