Blu-Ray Review: 13 ASSASSINS Is An Incredible, Beautifully Crafted Epic
Director Takeshi Miike's samurai epic explodes onto blu-ray, and further cements its status as a bona-fide classic of the genre...
It used to be that there were a few unquestionable constants in life: death, taxes and the cinematic insanity of Takeshi Miike. But then the Japanese auteur threw a curve-ball at this year's Cannes film festival by offering a measured, slow-moving, but ultimately highly-crafted Samurai movie that left its weapon sheathed in favour of a humanist, emotive drama that split audiences thanks to that issue of difference. That movie - Harakiri - was certainly different, but it is best considered (when wider audiences eventually get to see it), as the yin to 13 Assassins' Yang: the two movies are opposite sides of the same coin, but both are crafted with artisan precision to tell the two sides of the samurai story, duty in battle and patriarchal responsibility at home. 13 Assassins is a remake of a remarkably little-seen Eiichi Kudo 1963 film (itself based on a true story), and it is little wonder that Miike chose that source material as the basis for his latest release because the story of a band of assassins' attempt to kill the malignant Lord Naritsugu (Goro Inagaki) is a wonderfully appropriate opportunity for the director to amp up his predilection for high-octane, grand set-pieces and furiously aggressive, concisely choreographed action work. And not only that, it also represents an opportunity for Miike to suggest he is more than just a controversial cinematic agitator, and that he can make films that are so much more than wild, fetishised and grotesque curios. Though talk will invariably focus most on the frankly stunning final 50 minute action set-piece, 13 Assassins is so much more than an adrenaline-and-blood-soaked extended sword-fight with what could reasonably be called Miike's obsession with fetishism and voyeurism of difficult-to-watch and even more difficult-to-stomach subject matter. Around the battle scenes, the film is far more traditional than anyone familiar with Miike's works might expect, especially given his usual fondness for turning genres inside out, and it fits alongside some of the most iconic samurai films in history like a comfortable bed-fellow. That yin yang allusion I made earlier for this film's relationship with Harakiri is even more specific to the format of this film, considering how slowly it begins and how explosively it finishes. That format is also reminiscent of the duality of the samurai's role in life, calm during every day existence, and dutiful - that diligence reflected in the remarkably concise, yet still engaging expositional scenes that characterise the first half of the film, and then bound to a converse duty of violence through war. It is something that will be familiar for fans of the samurai genre, though possibly not to fans of Miike, though it is pleasant to see the auteur prove that he can make art within traditionally established conventions, and such is the success of that endeavour that the film-fan in me makes me hope he continues to make more reserved fare. But, this being Miike, it wasn't likely that there wouldn't be a number of more "colourful" scenes, just as the film is intentionally reserved for the first half, the feeling that the "real" Miike, or the one that we have grown accustomed to, is squirming to break through under the surface. There are flashes of oddness, and the odd grotesque moment - especially in the moment in which we, and Shinzaemon (Koji Yakusho) meet a horribly disfigured woman who personifies the infinite, unquantifiable evil of Naritsugu. Such explicit flashes of Miike-ism are dotted throughout, though pretty sparsely, but rather than distract, and suggest a wholly different, more grotesque alternative, they are knitted so tightly into the narrative that they becomes almost generic. Getting back to that battle, it must surely be considered one of the most impressive sequences of this or any year. Crucially, though, it is never cartoonish or unnecessarily chaotic, which one might expect from Miike at his most untamed, but such accusations would achieve nothing but devaluing the craft and ingenuity that have obviously gone into producing such an extended battle sequence. And it is no small achievement that the 50 minute sequence never drags, with Miike committed to never even repeating a sound-effect throughout, and throwing in a boatload of imaginary stunts and set-ups. It is often difficult in films of this nature - with the twin concerns of both heavy action and a large cast - to stand out, but in Koji Yakusho (also the star of Harakiri), Takeshi Miike has found a gold-chip player, and one who holds his own despite being surrounded at every turn. The rest of the cast, especially the 12 other assassins are perfectly suited to their combative roles, offering enough in the team-assembling slow-build to set them apart as formed characters in their own right, without any of them getting too much distracting focus. And then there are the villains, lead in chilling, off-hand fashion by Goro Inagaki (who might be familiar as a member of boyband SMAP), who is brilliantly unemotional and coincidentally stands as a skewed mirror to this week's other great villain to be unleashed on blu-ray - Tony Montana. Both men are insatiable in their evil, and neither can be explained away easily - they are apparently malevolent for the sake of it, without a barometer to limit their damage to others, but while Pacino's Cuban kingpin is a portrait in excessive emotion, Lord Naritsugu is successful as a slightly supernatural villain because he remains so detached. Overall, 13 Assassins is a rare thing indeed: a traditionally successful, wonderfully crafted film with main-stream appeal from one of the most self-consciously cult film-makers ever to turn his hand to cinema. It rises above the accepted perception of the director