47 Ronin (1994) — dvd movie review — early!

The 47 Ronin is arguably one of the most well known Japanese historical tales, both in and out of Japan. In its native country it has seen over 80 film adaptations and numerous manga, anime, and stage play incarnations. In American cinema, the tale has further been referenced in films including Ronin and Woody Allen’s Manhattan. Amazingly, only two such film adaptations have made it to US shores thus far: the 1941 47 Ronin (aka: Genroku Chushingura), and my personal favorite, the Toshiro Mifune 1962 epic, Chushingura: the Loyal 47 Ronin (aka: Chushingura: Hana no maki yuki no maki). Still, as with any series of cinematic takes on a well known story, only one or two ever stand out in the public mind. Given the pedigree of the two American released films, to release yet another version would require it possess some rather compelling characteristics. This one, directed by master filmmaker Kon Ichikawa (The Burmese Harp, Dora Heita), starring Ken Takakura (The Abashiri Prison films, Cops vs. Thugs), and promising a widely different take on the events of the loyal 47, might have just those qualities.

For those of you not familiar with the tale of the 47 Ronin, the basic story is thus: In 1701 an honorable retainer, Kamei Sano of the Ako clan, was summoned to the Shogun’s castle in Edo to help prepare for a number of festivities. There he encountered a rather unscrupulous and rude official, Kira. After a series of offenses by Kira, Kamei became engaged and lashed out at him with a small dagger. Kira walked away with only a small cut to the face, but being that Kamei drew his blade in the Shogun’s castle, and on a Shogunate official, he was sentenced to commit seppuku. This act left Kamei’s 300 Samurai effectively houseless and jobless. 47 of these ronin, led by the venerable Oishi, took it upon themselves to avenge their retainer’s death and disgrace. A full year later, on December 14th 1702, the ronin lead a successful attack on Kira’s compound under cover of dark and snow. Although widely considered heroic and honorable, this act was in violation of the law. On Feburary 4, 1703, 46 of the loyal 47 Ronin committed honorable seppuku (For more information check out the wikipedia entry here).

In telling the tale of the 47 Ronin, there are two main takes: the purely historical, usually titled using some variant of 47 Ronin, and the fictional embellishment, titled Chushingura. Both takes are widely regarded as tales of exemplary virtue, bravery, and honor, the likes of which the listener should attempt to employ in their daily life.

Being that this film bears the 47 moniker, and its Japanese title, Shijushichinin no shikaku, features no mention of Chushingura, one can discern that Kon Ichikawa was very much concerned with the real tale of the 47 Ronin. Furthermore, with his version, Ichikawa, a noted pacifist and iconoclast, sought to take the national myth down a notch or two. In his view, these 47 men were valorous with respect to carrying out their assumed duty, but were still very much flawed everyday men. It’s made no secret that Ichikawa feels Oishi may have forced his group into service, and even relied on insubstantial evidence as motive (the film shows the Edo offense only in flashes, with no concrete description of what offense actually took place). In one of the biggest departures from the regular canon, Oishi succumbs to the temptation of an extramarital affair (with a ditzy cutie pie, no less). In going about this new approach Ichikawa assumes a familiarity with the original events, leaving out a number of standard inclusions that are well enough known, but whose absence may leave those new to the tale scratching their heads. Really, if you haven’t seen another Chushingura film, you probably won’t catch these variants and subtle criticisms.

Ichikawa’s film is a bit more narrowly focused than others, centering less on the whole 47 than their leader, Oishi (played by Ken Takakura), the actual decision maker, and his strategic planning process leading up to the fateful attack on the Kira compound. Doing so helps further Kon’s idea that the 47 were acting at the behest of a single man, but not without suppressing a very necessary sense of urgency and outrage. For the majority of the film we follow Oishi throughout his daily routine, making plans here and there, visiting the brush-maker’s daughter, making signal flutes, and conversing with others. In fact, there’s quite a lot of rather tedious dialog to be found. Clocking in at only 129 minutes, the film somehow feels twice as long as the 1962 Chushingura, itself a respectable 206 minutes. It really only picks up in the final half hour, but even then, due to the structure and thrust of the tale, the satisfying sense of just desserts is sorely missing.

But while the story may not be that engaging, its cinematic trappings definitely are. Ichikawa, with the help of cinematographer Yukio Isohata, does an admirable job of betraying the film’s Nippon Television roots. There are certainly lapses into mundane period dorama framing, but when the two set out to create a striking visual they succeed in spades. The film’s signature shot: a bird’s eye perspective of the loyal 47 scurrying across a canvas of virgin snowfall. The visuals are alternately helped and hindered by the film’s rather odd Lynchian pseudo-synth-soundtrack. It’s very ominous, even when it need not be. For example, during a quiet moment between Oishi and the brush-maker’s daughter, Karu (Rie Miyazawa, Ashura, Tony Takitani), the bass pumps amongst a swell of dischords. You almost expect the red curtain to drop, signaling the entry of Twin Peaks’s dancing midget.

The acting on display is certainly up to the task, but nothing too spectacular. Takakura is fairly reserved, while Miyazawa handles much of Ichikawa’s trademark humorous punctuations. It’s worth noting that Takakura et al. are completely convincing in their swordplay, itself a nice garnish on an already decent presentation.

In closing, Ichikawa’s 47 Ronin is really for Ichikawa and 47 Ronin enthusiasts only. It’s a beautiful film, but its slow pace makes it an arduous sit for the uninitiated (and quite possibly the very well initiated). If you do decide to see it, I must recommend viewing the 1962 Chushingura beforehand, so you at least can have a hope of keeping up.

The DVD
Animeigo’s release of Kon Ichikawa’s 47 Ronin faithfully maintains its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio and Dolby stereo soundtrack. Being a Nippon Television production, colors are fairly subdued, with blacks a little closer to dark grays than the ultra-black American’s are accustomed to in their film. Those familiar with Japanese films will recognize this is not a problem with a transfer, but a stylistic choice (or arguably, budgetary limitation) on the part of the production. As such, AnimEigo’s transfer is clean and faithfully represents its source print. As usual, their subtitles are top notch, providing color-coded dialog for sequences involving multiple characters, and historical context asides at the top of the screen.

Extras on the disc include trailers for both 47 Ronin and Dora Heita, an image gallery featuring stills from the film, and the usual Animeigo plethora of production notes. There are some very informative entries to be found, including bits on the 47 Ronin adaptations, as well as the awesome entries on samurai history. There’s even a single joke slide that proves a rather funny read. However, I’ll leave it up to you to find it.

All in all, this disc is on par with Animeigo’s recent releases of Dora Heita and Shinsengumi, though definitely not as extravagant as their release of Ashura. A nice presentation of a flawed, but well intentioned film.

About the Author

Chris Nelson has been a film fanatic since age six. A former film and English major, he is now a Software Engineer and contract Technical Writer living in the Silicon Valley.