For those who are fascinated by Wolverine’s healing factor, boy is Blade of the Immortal a treat. Adapted from Hiroaki Samura’s manga of the same name, it follows Manji (Takuya Kimura), a samurai during the Shogunate era who can not die. Prick him and he will bleed, impale him with a humongous sword and he will emit a gruesome gurgle, but with time (and without any novocaine) his innards will put themselves back where they ought to be, enabling him to continue slaying his enemies.

This peculiar gift isn’t due an a mutant gene, but because an ancient, veiled woman empowered him (or is it cursed him?) with the Sacred Bloodworms of the Holy Lama as he lay dying on a battlefield, still seeking vengeance for the death of his mentally impaired little sister. Why she does this is open to interpretation, but there’s not too much time to dwell. There are, instead, many, many adversaries who need their bellies split open in combat.

Blade of the Immortal is, apparently, Japanese director Takashi Miike’s 100th film. Perhaps he, too, feels like an ageless warrior who can’t possibly be harmed each time he gets behind the camera. And while this new effort may lack for originality, it certainly has its share of pluck.

Fifty years after our black and white prologue, we burst into colour (much of it red) with Manji living in isolation. He is located by Rin (Hana Sugisaki), a spirited pre-teen whose father was slain and mother raped and kidnapped by Master Anotsu (Sota Fukushi). Will Manji act as her bodyguard as she goes to find this evil man, she asks?

The answer, of course, is yes, and it leads to one stylised showdown after the other, many of which are savagely funny. If you have a healing factor, and you find yourself chained up by the wrist, why not just lop off your hand? You know those bloodworms are going to squiggle out and reseal the despatched body part once this fight is over!

Anotsu and his school of warriors represent some sort of evil, globalist attitude toward martial arts. They want to fight by any means necessary if it means defeating their foes. Rin’s parents ran an academy devoted to a specific, localised style. Unlike the film’s devotion to the gory specifics of how the bloodworms work – this movie is undeniably gross – there isn’t much visual explanation about these philosophical differences. There are, however, a host of remarkable costumes, hairstyles and weaponry which, to Miike’s great credit, don’t care a whit about historical accuracy.

The film is paced like a series of comics, but for all the overblown action it isn’t shot like a modern Hollywood superhero film. The commonalities with James Mangold’s Logan end with Manji’s powers and Rin’s age. As Anotsu sends another new baddie to stop Manji’s approach, the dialogue is comic, but never self-aware winky. But the fun really shines when the film revels in the outlandish weapons: enormous double-pronged swords, an axe that looks more like a sharp anvil, blades attached to staffs, blades attached to chains, shurikens for all occasions, etc. Each gets its own theatrical introduction. Watching this 140-minute film I eventually formed a Pavlovian response to the sound of heavy cloth robes hurled upward in anger.

Blade of the Immortal is repetitive, and that may be because it has been made by a director whose absurdly rapid output precludes him from taking time in the editing room. Or maybe it’s to get us in the lead character’s head a little bit. Either way, if you are going to see one outlandish and occasionally nauseating bloodbath samurai pic this year, this is the one.