The Sharks / 鮫 / Samé (1964)

Obscure Japanese Film #272

Kinnosuke Nakamura 

The late Muromachi period, c.1467, the beginning of the Onin War. Samé, or ‘Shark boy’ (Kinnosuke Nakamura), is a young shark fisherman who lives as an outcast near a fishing village on the Echizen coast. As itinerants, his family are not accepted by the villagers and he is forced to hand over his catch every day and accept the scraps they allow him to keep for himself. When hostility towards the itinerants increases, their huts are burned and Samé’s mother (Akiko Kazami) killed, so he and an itinerant elder (Yoshi Kato) decide to head for the capital (Kyoto) on foot in search of a better future. 

Yoshi Kato

However, the old man falls ill and passes away en route, after which Samé hooks up with a middle-aged woman (Michiyo Kogure) making the same journey alone. She has a mysterious supply of meat which keeps them going but, horrified to discover that it’s actually human flesh, Samé abandons her and continues on his own.

Michiyo Kogure

Minoru Chiaki

It’s a time of widespread famine, and Samé turns to stealing in order to survive. He’s taken under the wing of Shirasawa (Minoru Chiaki), a one-armed criminal with a black mark on his face, who teaches Samé to be more ambitious in his thievery and even encourages him to kill. Inevitably, the pupil eventually turns on his master and, by the time Samé has become a fully-fledged adult, he’s a ruthless man indeed. 

Daisuke Kato 

He next joins a gang of mercenaries led by Genji of Chikushi (Daisuke Kato) in the hope of receiving not only wealth but a position of power in exchange for the heads he takes in battle. By this time, his willingness to commit evil seems to know no bounds, but when he tries to rape a nun (Yoshiko Mita), her unexpected reaction awakens his lost humanity.

Yoshiko Mita

Based on a best-selling, prize-winning two-part novel of the same name by Nobuhiko Matsugi (1932-2016) and adapted for the screen by director Tomotaka Tasaka’s regular collaborator Naoyuki Suzuki (who also frequently worked for Tomu Uchida), like many of Tasaka’s films, this is a lengthy one, clocking in at around 165 minutes. With former kabuki actor Kinnosuke Nakamura – one of the biggest stars of Japanese cinema at the time – in the lead role. it was a major production for Toei, so it’s surprising that it’s not better known, though this is likely because it was not an award winner and appears to have been out of circulation for many years. At the time, Kinema Junpo ranked it 17^th in the list of best films of 1964, and it was the third most successful of the year in terms of box office.

Nakamura

The film depends heavily on its star, Kinnosuke Nakamura, a talented actor but one who had a tendency to go over the top, which he certainly does here, with his maniacal laugh being overused in the later scenes. It might also have been better to cast a younger actor in the part of Samé as a boy – indeed, it took me a while to realise that the 32-year-old actor was playing a boy at the beginning. Regarding the other cast members, it’s as surprising to see Michiyo Kogure as a cannibal as it is predictable to see the cadaverous Jun Hamamura – who had already tasted ‘monkey meat’ in Fires on the Plain (1959) – desperate for a taste, but it’s the two Seven Samurai veterans, Minoru Chiaki and Daisuke Kato, who come off best as Nakamura’s two mentors of villainy.

Jun Hamamura

Like Nakamura, director Tasaka was left-leaning politically, and the film makes it very clear that Samé is driven to crime by poverty and the merciless feudal system. Although most of Samé’s actions are selfish ones, at one point he clearly takes sides when he attacks some men escorting stocks of rice, liberating the food not for his own benefit, but for all the starving poor to share. This scene is also an example of several complex action sequences involving numerous actors that Tasaka stages quite brilliantly. His usual cinematographer at the time, Masahiko Iimura, makes effective use of colour and widescreen, although I couldn’t help thinking that black and white would have suited such dark material better. There’s also a fitting score by one of Japan’s top film composers, Masaru Sato. However, well worth seeing though it is, I wouldn’t personally make any claims for this film as a lost masterpiece because I found it rather lacking in subtlety both in terms of story and performance, and I didn’t buy Samé’s rather corny religious redemption at the end.

Thanks to A.K.

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Revenge / 仇討/ Adauchi (1964)

Obscure Japanese Film #68

 

Shinpachi (Kinnosuke Nakamura) is a low-ranking samurai from a nevertheless prestigious family. His sense of pride has made him quick to take offence so, when a higher-ranking samurai (Shigeru Koyama) from the same clan criticises him for not taking sufficient care over the condition of the weapons, Shinpachi answers back and an argument begins which escalates into a duel. This first duel leads to further duels and Shinpachi finds himself increasingly backed into a corner when those in power decide to rig the game in order to suppress his protest once and for all.

Kinnosuke Nakamura

 

While less well-known overseas than Toshiro Mifune or Tatsuya Nakadai, Kinnosuke Nakamura was an equally big star in Japan. I find him more effective in some films than others, but he’s especially good as the mad Lord Horikawa in Portrait of Hell (1969) and he’s equally good here portraying another character whose sanity is questionable.  While some may feel he goes over the top, for me his twitchy intensity suits the role perfectly.

Tetsuro Tanba

The other actors who make the most impression here are the always-reliable Masao Mishima as the sheriff who finds himself in a difficult position, Tetsuro Tanba as Shinpachi’s formidable second opponent, and, perhaps best of all, Eitaro Shindo as the rather worldly monk at whose temple Shinpachi takes refuge. 

Of the eight films by director Tadashi Imai I’ve seen so far, this may be the strongest, but is certainly not the most typical. Imai made films in a wide range of styles and settings, but this work is reminiscent of the artistically-ambitious samurai films of Akira Kurosawa and Masaki Kobayashi – unsurprising as the original screenplay was written by Kurosawa favourite Shinobu Hashimoto, who also penned Kobayashi’s Harakiri (1962) and Samurai Rebellion (1967). Hashimoto uses a complex flashback structure which works very well and lends a sense of inevitability to the tragic events which unfold. 

The extras on the Eureka Blu-ray by Tony Rayns, Jasper Sharp and Tom Mes are all interesting and well-informed and avoid becoming too dryly academic. I had the impression that the film is generally seen as an attack on authority and the way it oppresses the freedom and dignity of individuals, and this theme certainly fits with Hashimoto’s scripts for Kobayashi. However, although this may well have been the intention, the character of Shinpachi is not terribly sympathetic and I felt that the film made a different point more effectively – the dire consequences which ensue as a result of Shinpachi’s refusal to ignore a criticism show the dangers of placing pride over pragmatism, and he is perhaps just as much at fault as the system he is caught up in. 

Revenge also benefits from a strong score by Toshiro Mayuzumi, who on this occasion strikes a good balance between his desire to use modernist techniques and the necessity of serving the drama.  The black-and-white ‘scope cinematography by frequent Tadashi Imai collaborator Shunichiro Nakao is also first-rate and looks great in Eureka’s release, as does the cover art by Tony Stella. One minor quibble, though – the cast list in the booklet only lists five of the actors, not even including Eitaro Shindo, who plays a major role in the film.

Eureka Blu-ray