Bushido

Time for the second of the Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme features to pass by my desk: Bushido (2024), directed by Kazuya Shiraishi. I’d read a little about it already but not enough to give much away - always a good way to approach a film.

Ronin, Yanagida (Kaya Kiyohara), lives in poverty, crafting seals to make ends meet, but is also an expert Go player. His daughter, Okinu (Kaya Kiyohara), seems happy to live with him, her father being useless on his own. Spending his days playing Go, especially with a new found friend, Genbei (Jun Kunimura), the upright ronin finds a lust for revenge two-fold as his past and present unfold with twin false accusations crossing his path and bringing shame to his door.

The first half of the film builds an image of the world we have entered. Yanagida finds himself playing Go with another local, one who is almost as skilled as he, stingy Genbei (as the children call him), a pawnbroker known for his parsimony whose interactions with his upstanding opponent make him reconsider his life and adjust his values: ironically this also proves to be financially advantageous. So Yanagida is seen as being upstanding, almost to the point of being vain about it, happily losing money in a rare instance of playing Go for money when he should have won. Yanagida and his daughter are clearly respected, almost loved, Okinu even being treated well by her friend who is the madam of the local brothel, a woman capable of (as she puts it) putting on her demon hat. One of the earliest scenes with the most power is where the brothel madam is in one moment kind and generous to Okinu but also happy to send a bruised returned escapee geisha into a darkened room to be beaten. Harsh reality bleeds into a quieter, kinder world. Yet arguably this first half of the film – and the film runs 2 hours and 9 minutes – treads water a little. It lacks an aspect of focus, awaiting the moment of drama when a samurai from the past finds Yanagida, igniting his desire for revenge, while at the same time the present echoes the past as he is accused of a crime.  

The problem here is not Yanagida’s past catching up with him, this provides a necessary burst of energy into the film but the fact that as several strands of the story start to weave together the screenplay telegraphs them so obviously as to be frustrating. You’d not mind so much if they were not so contrived, especially relating to Okinu. It’s very by the numbers, and though past and present colliding makes sense to an extent, I personally found it frustrating because it could have been handled more subtly. The film very much links into the theme of "justice" that sits behind the Film Programme, but often in Bushido, though interesting concepts are explored they are often introduced apropos of nothing.

Yanagida diatribes with good reason and moral justification against those who are expelled by feudal lords that must then subsist on nothing, who are left with no way to form a living and whose families suffer; yet Yanagida is later accused of such crimes himself in the past. Though never a Lord, he is said to be the cause of such expulsions. This is not something that is particularly foreshadowed, just introduced, leaving one to wonder if parts of the story had been edited out or else the writer just decided to throw it in. As such the revenge, past and present, might be intriguing but never quite resonate as strongly as it could.

These aspects that feel thrown into the pot to add flavour stopped me ever really engaging emotionally with the film. I could never commit to the narrative as it wanted me to, in part because I was never fully sure what it wanted me to feel; I’m happy with characterisation built around grey areas but the story is never quite nuanced enough to make it work. The film does make some good observations, such as Yanagida catching up with one of his objects of vengeance and how actions that may seem immoral, shameful and against the samurai code can actually be within it. Acts of subtle justice requiring an individual to become an outcast and a criminal.

That said, without doubt Bushido is a beautifully shot film. Visually it frequently stands out and it is a pleasure for the senses; Shiraishi being willing and able to adjust his visual technique to the moment: whether the sudden sharp blast of static harshness as Yanagida is faced with traumatic images of memories from the past; or the saturated colour such that parts of the image seem almost to melt into the heat of the air; or for sudden, sharp, almost film noir angles denoting distress; or the formalised image constructed in a painterly style. This is very much where the film shines and throughout its runtime the images are often a joy to behold. Arguably there is no unified style, rather the film adapts itself to the needs of the scene, a conceit that could work poorly if executed without skill, yet here it’s done with grace and significant verve. Even if aspects of the story telling frustrated me, arguably the constant pleasure at the film’s visual styles and occasional inventiveness kept me attentive.  

There is a lot to enjoy in the film but for me the first half was overlong and lacking the clarity needed to make this a really original film. It should have been a shorter, tauter and more focused tale, even if visually it’s a delight throughout. Its ever-adapting visual style should be lauded.

Bushido plays as part of the Japan Foundation Touring Film Programme 2025 taking place in cinemas around the UK from 7 February - 31 March 2025. See the film's webpage to find out when and where near you.

Screener courtesy of the Japan Foundation.