Zatôichi kyôjô-tabi

This fourth Zatoichi film in fourteen months

The recurrence of a lost love might have made for an interesting change of pace, and change of tone for this series, but that mostly takes second stage to a contrived, yet shallow, story of redemption, without much resolution.

The climactic battles are reasonably good here, but it all feels alternately a bit too choreographed, and poorly choreographed, as the innumerable thugs all seem to politely wait their turn to attack Ichi, who barely gives them a passing glance, before they fall over dead, bloodlessly, and without even so much as a tear to their clothing.

I found the sake bottle scene to be too silly of a gimmick, like the slicing of candles with his sword, as well.

Still watchable, though, but a drop in quality from the earlier installments.

Masseur Ichi, the Fugitive (1963)

*** (out of 4)

The blind swordsman Ichi (Shintaro Katsu) angers a large yakuza after defeating them in a wrestling match, which will lead to a bigger fight. Directed by Tokuzo Tanaka. This here was my second film in the series and while I enjoyed most of the first one, this one here just doesn't cut it. There's way too much talking going on and none of it is even mildly interesting. Even worse is that the actual swordfights are rather lame as well. The concept of a blind swordsman is really the only thing that keeps this film (and perhaps series?) afloat.

The following review is an extract from the book "Shintaro Katsu´s Zatoichi: Complete guide to all movies", which is now available on Amazon.

"(...) Zatoichi agrees to be transported in a jinrikisha (a type of proto-taxi in Japan of the Tokugawa era, and other Asian countries). Persecutors who want to kill the blind man see how he rides the vehicle, as they keep a close watch on him. At the edge of the road, Zatoichi and his carriers meet a woman with a baby who feels unwell. Chivalrously, Zatoichi proposes to the mother to get into the car in his place; he will continue on foot. A few meters ahead, the jinrikisha is attacked, the killers strung the person inside thinking that it is Zatoichi ... and killing instead the young mother (...).

(...) Zatoichi, who feels responsible for the tragedy, decides to take the baby to the town of Miyagi to give it to her father Unosuke, the husband of the deceased.

(...) This issue is the eighth sequel to the excellent "Zatoichi monogatari" (Kenji Misumi, 1962). The director of every film about the adventures of the blind swordsman is not always the great Kenji Misumi, but this is the case in this "Zatoichi kessho-tabi" that we are dealing with today, and whose international title in English comes to be, without much sense, "Fight, Zatoichi, fight". We say without much meaning because that title is not necessarily descriptive of the film (Zatoichi fights in all his films), and we are inclined to think that it is not the literal translation from Japanese either.

Ichi, the blind, wandering swordsman, happens upon a small festival and enters an open sumo competition. Exploiting sighted competitors' assumptions about his disability, he eliminates five consecutive men and claims the top prize. This draws the ire of local yakuza, who identify the legendary swordsman from previous misadventures and place a bounty on his head. As he swiftly eliminates would-be assassins, Ichi is exposed to the clan's inner turmoil and interferes to the best of his ability. He also bumps into an old love, advises a young admirer and tangles repeatedly with a skilled, testy ronin.

This series had already swapped directors a few times by this point, but maintained a sense of continuity in both visual and thematic senses. Less so in this instance, which feels blander and more workmanlike than the others, force-feeding the character into unfavorable situations and missing subtle details that would have merited a closer look in previous chapters. Shintaro Katsu remains essential in the leading role, expertly alternating between faux merriment and quiet stoicism to suit the situation. Yet, despite this being his story, he's played as more of a willful fly in the greater ointment than an enigmatic focus and his big action scenes (now far more frequent) are largely misdirected. We get one excellent duel - the climactic final showdown with an equally-skilled rival - but the rest of the film's fights are of the twelve-on-one variety and that's not what Ichi does best. If anything, those brawls test the limits of what an audience can be expected to believe. An expert samurai, compensating for his blindness by noting the tight squeak of an adjusted grip or the expectant air of an incoming strike? That's where it's at. I can lose myself in such a fable. A cornered fighter, dodging six trained blades in a whirlwind of pure, chaotic, dumb luck? Now I'm having second thoughts.

One might mistake this for the first Zatôichi in colour, so bold are the colours during the opening credits that they'd challenge even Imamura's hyper-lush "Kamigami no yakubo" (1968).

What the films achieve wonderfully is that they still allow the necessary plotting to take its time. In modern fare I think we'd be having all the quiet moments and hesitations removed, let alone all the human drama. Thus the film really has genuinely suspenseful moments and genuine drama. Otane reappears, and we are allowed to see a loose end tied in the drama.

I'm going through the films in chronological order just now. It will be interesting to see where the series goes as it matures; these early films have all been very brilliant.