Revenge (Adauchi) – Eureka

Director: Tadashi Imai
Screenplay: Shinobu Hashimoto
Starring: Kinnosuke Nakamura, Tetsurô Tanba, Yoshiko Mita, Takahiro Tamura, Ai Sasaki
Country: Japan
Running Time: 103 min
Year: 1964
BBFC Certificate: 15

Tadashi Imai is a highly regarded figure in Japanese cinema in his home country, but abroad his work is little-known. Jasper Sharp suggests his leftist leanings might have kept him out of favour with critics in the US during the 50s and 60s, when the Cold War was in full force. Imai also had a background in making military propaganda films, which he was not proud of. Imai didn’t have a clear individual style like many big-name ‘auteur’ directors either, instead putting a signature on his work through his messages and themes. He worked largely on socially-conscious dramas, with critics describing his narrative style as “nakanai realism” or “realism without tears”.

Imai’s reputation in Japan, however, seems to have been part of why he was hired to direct the jidaigeki (period drama) Revenge (a.k.a. Adauchi or Vengeance) in 1964. As Tony Rayns describes in an interview on this disc, the film was made by Toei in an attempt to improve their reputation, as they were increasingly becoming known as a company that produced more exploitative samurai movies, leaning on violence over any lofty themes, well-drawn narratives or fascinating characters. Imai had also previously brought the studio critical success with the previous year’s Bushido, Samurai Saga, which won the Golden Bear at the 13th Berlin Film Festival. Whilst Revenge didn’t bring home any awards itself, it’s still a well-regarded film, even if, once again, it didn’t make much of an impact overseas.

In a bid to give Imai’s name more clout in the UK then, Eureka are releasing Revenge on Blu-ray as part of their illustrious Masters of Cinema series. Being a fan of jidaigeki, particularly those surrounding the samurai, I got hold of a copy to see if, indeed, Imai is a director who deserves to be better known.

Revenge was written by the great Shinobu Hashimoto, who worked on many of Kurosawa’s films, as well as Harakiri (1962). It’s set in the Edo (or Tokugawa) period and opens showing the preparations for a grand, public samurai duel. This continues throughout the film, whilst we regularly flash back to find out what led to the ceremonial conflict.

We learn that it began after Shinpachi Ezaki (Kinnosuke Nakamura), a low-ranking samurai, rebuked a higher-ranking officer for a comment made about the cleanliness of his spears. This led to a private duel, which Shinpachi won, resulting in the death of the officer.

Unfortunately, the officer was the brother of Shume Okuno (Tetsurô Tanba), the leader of the Okuno clan. So, the family were furious that a lower-ranking samurai defeated one of them. They decided to claim that both duelists were temporarily insane, to save face, and so Shinpachi was exiled to a temple until he was ‘cured’.

Whilst shut off from his family and the woman he was hoping to marry though, Shinpachi actually did lose grip over his sanity. During this time, gossip stirred about Shume not facing Shinpachi himself to seek vengeance, so the Okuno head decided to travel to the temple to kill Shinpachi.

Once again, however, a by-then-crazed Shinpachi won the duel. This, as you might imagine, caused a great uproar and, eventually, this built to the duel that is being prepared in the ‘present day’ segments of the film.

Revenge is a critique of the Bushido code (or way of the warrior), which kept the samurai in check in feudal Japan. We are shown how it could be manipulated by the shogun and higher classes for their own gains. The hierarchy of Japan during the Tokugawa Shogunate comes under scrutiny too. There’s a nice touch in the film where you see one character chewed out by his superior before cutting to the same character reprimanding his own subordinate in response.

Shinpachi merely stands up for himself at the start of the film and, for the most part, only ever acts as he should, following this, but is trapped by his rank and code. As such, he finds himself tossed around for political means and others’ financial gains whilst being forced down a path which seems to offer no end of bloodshed until his own life is lost.

Hashimoto and Imai are not only commenting on the problems of the past though. They seem to have their finger on attitudes at the time the film was made. In fact, with a rebellious young man standing up against authority and later exploding with rage, the film seems to be anticipating the student protests in Japan that would happen during 1968-69.

Whilst the film is rather dialogue-heavy, exploring its themes and the narrative’s politics in considerable detail, there is some swordplay to keep genre fans happy. When it comes, it’s spectacular too. Most notably, the film climaxes in a ferocious showdown that more than justifies the lengthy build-up to the duel. Shockingly violent and intense, aided by a ferocious performance by Kinnosuke Nakamura, the sequence is immensely powerful without losing focus on the film’s central themes.

The film looks fantastic too, with Imai’s regular cinematographer Shunichirô Nakao making great use of light and the wide frame, whilst adding some graceful movement. This is backed up by an unusual but effectively moody avant-garde score by the great Toshirô Mayuzumi.

All praise aside though, I must admit, I did find the first half of the film a little difficult to follow. With quite a lot of characters, often dressed in similar period garb, regular discussions about clan politics and a flashback structure that set me on the wrong foot once or twice, it demands a lot of attention. However, I was always steered in the right direction shortly after getting lost and the message became abundantly clear by the end.

So, whilst I found the first half a little challenging, I remained engaged and thankfully it all built to an astonishing, brutal finale. With brains behind the bloodshed too, the film is a fine piece of work and one I’ll be keen to revisit to fully unravel.

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