The storied, extraordinary career of highly controversial film-maker Takashi Miike seems – upon closer inspection – to have finally taken a turn into the Japanese mainstream, following a leftfield career in extreme cinema that includes the likes of Audition (1999), Ichi the Killer (2001) and Gozu (2003) to name but a few.
Whilst still retaining some of the blood-splatter, with less emphasis on outright gore, recent years have seen Takashi Miike elevate his profile amongst Japan’s box-office mainstream elite; the huge success of such films as Crows Zero, Yattaman, and the spectacular 13 Assassins would seem to cement it. Fans of his hardcore, shock-horror previous works may argue the general change in direction is unwelcome, but there’s no questioning Miike’s resurgence in popularity and renewed box-office pull. Following on from the success of samurai epic 13 Assassins, Miike returns to the well with Hari-kiri: Death of a Samurai (essentially a reboot of 1962 Kobayashi classic Seppuku, aka Harikiri), a bloody retrospective yarn with genre-typical themes of love, revenge and disgrace; in equal parts, bloody melancholy poem and tragic revenge story, with an undercurrent of sociopolitical discontent.
The story: an older samurai (Koji Yakusho) arrives at the prestiged house of a feudal lord, asking permission to commit honorable seppuku (harikiri, or ritualised suicide) in the courtyard of his esteemed host. Before the ritual commences, the samurai learns of the fate of a younger warrior – Motome (played by j-dorama actor Eita) who also visited the court, sparking a series of flashbacks – recanted over decades – through which the viewer begins to understand the motivations and past lives of both men, and how their histories became interwoven.
Those impressed by 13 Assassins will no doubt have been hoping for more of the same fromHari-kiri. Flashes of Miike’s typically insane, viscerally expressionistic style certainly exhibits: for example, a painfully prolonged seppuku sequence within the first ten minutes; blood-soaked and agonizing in nature not only for its victim but also the audience who are subjected to every painful twist and wrench of the sword used to commit the act. It’s faultlessly acted throughout, but suffers from a strange lack of tension, and drags – just about recovering in time for the dramatic finale. Though austere, sombre and occasionally gruesome, Hari-kiri: Death of a Samurai feels flat, and lacks the style, intensity and irresistability of Miike’s previous work – especially when compared to its superior Miike stable-mate, 13 Assassins; the end result is ultimately underwhelming and leaves the viewer with the sense of having unfinished business that is hard to shake.
Deryn Paul O'Sullivan 