Lots have been said, written, sung, played and put to film about the Samurai mythos. In all contemporary works regarding these mythical warriors there is a common word that keeps popping up: honour. Samurai are presented as honourable soldiers that hold this principle in the highest of esteems. Yet, much like every other act of representation of groups of people or phenomenae of centuries gone by, it comes with a good deal of a romantization. The 1962 film “Harakiri”, directed by Masaki Kobayashi, questions this ideal of the samurai’s code of honour, and the result is an unforgettable jidaigeki that very well deserves to be held among the greatest achievements in japanese film history.

Set in the Edo period, the film tells the story of ronin Tsugumo Hanshiro (Tatsuya Nakadai), a lordless samurai who arrives at the estate of the li clan with the request of them letting him commit harakiri on their ground. At the time it was common for ronin to make such requests in order to receive gold from the clans or even a job to deter them from doing this. Suspecting that this might be the case, senior counselor Saito Kageyu (Rentaro Mikuni) tells him the story of another ronin that recently came to the li clan with the same request. Tsugumu, however, sticks to his resolve of commiting harakiri, claiming that he has “every intention of dying”. Little do the members of the li clan know, that Tsugumu has come with a hidden agenda of his own.

Like stated before, this film puts into question the romanticized idea of samurai honour and the honourable death of harakiri. I’ll thread here on a bit of spoiler territory, so proceed with caution. In the story Saito recites, members of the li clan force Chijiwa, the first ronin to come to them with such request, to commit the act almost immediately, even if he’s hesitant and even after he asked for a couple of days to settle his own affairs. Also, the ritual demands that the samurai die by his own sword, but Chijiwa’s sword was made of bamboo, a not so-blunt material that certainly won’t make the whole ordeal easy for him. Yet, the li clan insist and basically force him to do it with that sword, even if they could’ve very well given him one of theirs to ease his pain, citing all the time the “honour” of a samurai and that which lies in the ritual itself. Later, when Tsugumu confronts them they can’t admit of their wrong-doing, even if they have already payed a huge price. By the end, after the big fight has gone down, the official report is that many of the fallen soldiers is that they died because of illness, and the ones that barely survived were ordered to commit harakiri, all in an effort to maintain appearances and prevent the image of the li clan being tarnished. To put it shortly: real honour itself isn’t important and instead they choose to focus on the appearance of it.

The film is very masterfully shot and executed. Kobayashi may not get as much recognition from western audiences like other japanese cinematic legends such as Kurosawa, Ozu or Mizoguchi, but with this film he very well shows that he definitely belongs in the conversation and the great film history canon. The cinematography by Yoshio Miyajima is quite beautiful, each scene carefully lit and embracing the dynamics of light and shadows, though I must day that at times I found some of the camera movements to be a bit awkward and unnatural, but those were just a few exceptions. And the first and final shots, poetically matching each other, can just be described as hauntingly terrifying yet strangely beautiful. Regarding the music, Toru Takemitsu’s score is powerful, haunting and tragic, perfectly capturing the film’s complex themes as well as the emotions of each scene.

Performance-wise there isn’t one note that misses the mark. Nakadai excels in the central role of Tsugumu, dominating the whole range of emotions that befall a man in his position that go from subtleties to all out power. A critic called his performance “Mifune-like” back in the day, and while I agree with this statement mostly (I even thought it was Mifune who starred in the film before going in) I can say that I’m glad it wasn’t Mifune, since now I know of another great japanese actor with a comparable talent. Rentaro Mikune is also exceptional as Saito Kageyu, fully displaying the vanity of a great villain that ultimately leads him to a great defeat. And Shima Iwajita also excels in the minor role of Miho, Tsugumo’s daughter; in her limited on-screen time she manages to transmit so much, embracing all the emotional and tragic aspects of the character, and serving a pivotal role in the story in spite of her being in less than 20% of the film’s runtime.

If I have one complaint with this film it would be its fight scenes, that I can only describe as somewhat disappointing. I know the focus doesn’t lie there at all, considering the film’s real strengths it is actually a minor issue, but honestly I was expecting them to be a bit more exciting and better choreographed. Yes, in the early 1960s there wasn’t much emphasis on fighting scenes to be grandiose, but Kurosawa was already shooting great action pieces since the 50s (“Seven Samurai”) and even one year before of this (“Yojimbo”). So again, this issue is actually a minor one if we take into account all the other great aspects this film has to offer, but if the action sequences would have been more exhilirating displaying great fight choreographies the film would have been virtually perfect.

Masaki Kobayashi’s “Harakiri” is nothing short of a masterpiece of japanese and world cinema. Its themes of honour and how it deconstructs the hipocrisy around it regarding the japanese mythos are masterfully executed in perfect dramatic fashion, bolstering great visuals, a haunting soundtrack and really powerful performances. Lackluster fight scenes and one or two weird camera movements aside, the film succeeds on every level of filmmaking and handles very aptly its complex themes. Definitely one of the best japanese movies ever made (and movies overall), “Harakiri” is not to be missed for samurai film fans, japanese film fans, and movie fans in general.

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