[Review] 13 Assassins
For fans of "Seven Samurai," this should be nothing new. A ragtag group of misfit samurai barricade a small town in the hope of vanquishing a far superior enemy. Yes, it's been done before and yes, it's been done better, but damn does this movie get it right.
Surprisingly enough, this isn't a remake of the Kurosawa classic, but of a 1963 cult film of the same name. Despite that, there isn't much of a "been there, done that" feel at play here. Whereas "Seven Samurai" featured a swarming, faceless enemy, director Takashi Miike gives a face, name and sickening psychosis to his antagonist. Lord Matsudaira Naritsugu (Gorô Inagaki) embodies Japanese feudalism at its most depraved. He travels the countryside raping and murdering with a Joker-like abandon that would make Heath Ledger himself cringe in fear (may he rest in peace). Even worse is the cold logic behind his sadism, that nobility requires cruelty to keep everyone in their respective places. He struts through the film with such unwavering poise that his sickness becomes far more disturbing. One almost wishes he would foam at the mouth, but instead the slaughter comes from a reasoning, thinking human being who has decided that mutilating peasants is the right course of action for someone in his position.
Of course, this cannot stand and what follows is a gorgeously filmed piece of Japanese revenge cinema that takes an interest in its human element first and violence second. And what violence there is! The battle scenes are deliberately claustrophobic and tense, but never dizzying. Miike employs his shaky cam with a finesse unheard of in the bloated summer tentpole movies of Hollywood and builds tension to a thunderous climax worthy of such an epic.
And it all works thanks to a brilliant cast of characters that are as diverse as they are committed to their mission of honor, duty and justice. Although they maintain their path right up to the very end, the film still raises questions about violence as a means to an end. It may be buried beneath a pile of corpses, but it's there nonetheless and it makes "13 Assassins" even better. See this movie for the spectacle, but stay for the poetry.
Written November 11, 2013
Surprisingly enough, this isn't a remake of the Kurosawa classic, but of a 1963 cult film of the same name. Despite that, there isn't much of a "been there, done that" feel at play here. Whereas "Seven Samurai" featured a swarming, faceless enemy, director Takashi Miike gives a face, name and sickening psychosis to his antagonist. Lord Matsudaira Naritsugu (Gorô Inagaki) embodies Japanese feudalism at its most depraved. He travels the countryside raping and murdering with a Joker-like abandon that would make Heath Ledger himself cringe in fear (may he rest in peace). Even worse is the cold logic behind his sadism, that nobility requires cruelty to keep everyone in their respective places. He struts through the film with such unwavering poise that his sickness becomes far more disturbing. One almost wishes he would foam at the mouth, but instead the slaughter comes from a reasoning, thinking human being who has decided that mutilating peasants is the right course of action for someone in his position.
Of course, this cannot stand and what follows is a gorgeously filmed piece of Japanese revenge cinema that takes an interest in its human element first and violence second. And what violence there is! The battle scenes are deliberately claustrophobic and tense, but never dizzying. Miike employs his shaky cam with a finesse unheard of in the bloated summer tentpole movies of Hollywood and builds tension to a thunderous climax worthy of such an epic.
And it all works thanks to a brilliant cast of characters that are as diverse as they are committed to their mission of honor, duty and justice. Although they maintain their path right up to the very end, the film still raises questions about violence as a means to an end. It may be buried beneath a pile of corpses, but it's there nonetheless and it makes "13 Assassins" even better. See this movie for the spectacle, but stay for the poetry.
Written November 11, 2013