Director: Tomu Uchida
Screenplay: Naoyuki Suzuki, Tomu Uchida (all but the first film), Masashige Narisawa (only the first film)
Based on Novels by: Eiji Yoshikawa and Miyamoto Musashi
Starring: Kinnosuke Nakamura, Ken Takakura, Isao Kimura, Wakaba Irie, Chieko Naniwa, Rentaro Mikuni, Michiyo Kogure, Satomi Oka, Mikijiro Hira
Country: Japan
Running Time: 110 min, 107 min, 104 min, 128 min, 121 min
Year: 1961-65
BBFC Certificate: 15
Miyamoto Musashi was a real figure in Japanese history. He was a swordfighter, artist and author who wrote a famous essay on martial arts strategy called ‘The Book of Five Rings’ (included in this set). This combined a philosophy of swordplay with Zen Buddhism – odd bedfellows, I’m sure you’ll agree.
From the early days of cinema, back at the turn of the 20th century, Japanese filmmakers were already portraying Musashi on screen, usually in quite far-fetched, fantastical scenarios, inspired by bunraku and kabuki theatre shows. Later, Musashi was further mythologised in a hugely popular newspaper serial by Eiji Yoshikawa, which ran between 1935 and 1939 and was compiled into a hefty tome or series of books that ran around a thousand pages in English. This latter account was so successful in Japan that it paved the way for many more films, TV shows and radio plays that followed Yoshikawa’s slightly more grounded interpretation of the figure’s life. Even Mizoguchi had a go at one point with his Miyamoto Musashi, released in 1944, though he admits this was a propaganda piece made with limited time and resources. The most famous cinematic interpretation of the figure was Hiroshi Inagaki’s Samurai Trilogy, released between 1954-56.
Whilst that version of the tale is a rightful classic, that’s not to rule out any of the others. In fact, Toei put a rival series out only five years later that upped the ante, spreading the story over five films, all directed by Tomu Uchida. This Miyamoto Musashi series, running between 1961 and 1965, was quite a big success in Japan but didn’t travel as well as Inagaki’s trilogy, which picked up an honorary Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film.
Uchida himself has also been somewhat overlooked among Western cineasts over the years, despite being a highly respected figure in Japan. That is thankfully starting to change, aided by Arrow’s releases of his wonderful A Fugitive From the Past, Bloody Spear at Mount Fuji and The Mad Fox. Now, Eureka are tackling his epic 5-part Miyamoto Musashi series, ignoring the sixth part, which was produced by Toho, regurgitated some elements of the earlier films and ran at a mere 75 minutes, suggesting it may have been an unfinished effort that was put out, regardless.
The films included in Eureka’s set are Miyamoto Musashi (a.k.a. Zen and Sword), Showdown at Hannyazaka Heights (a.k.a. Miyamoto Musashi: Hannyazaka no ketto, 1962), Birth of the Two Sword Style (a.k.a. Miyamoto Musashi: Nitoryu kaigen, 1963), Duel at Ichijo-ji Temple (a.k.a Miyamoto Musashi: Ichijo-ji no ketto, 1964), and Duel at Ganryu Island (a.k.a. Miyamoto Musashi: Ganryu-jima no ketto, 1965). I got hold of a copy and my thoughts follow.
Rather than attempt to summarise the overall narrative of the five films myself, allow me to quote from Joe Hickinbottom’s essay (with added credits), included with the set:
“The story begins in 1600, in the chaos following the bloody and decisive Battle of Sekigahara. Two young men, Takezo (Kinnosuke Nakamura) and his comrade Matahachi (Isao Kimura), survive the carnage and seek refuge nearby, setting the stage for their diverging paths. While hiding with a widow (Oko, played by Michiyo Kogure) and her daughter (Akemi, played by Satomi Oka), Matahachi succumbs to temptation and abandons his fiancée, Otsu (Wakaba Irie). Takezo becomes implicated in the scandal, earning the wrath of both Matahachi’s mother (played by Chieko Naniwa) and local authorities. The brash youngster’s violent, untamed nature leads to his capture. Eventually escaping, he undergoes a harsh but enlightening reformation under the guidance of the monk Takuan (Rentaro Mikuni), emerging with a new name – Miyamoto Musashi – and a dogged commitment to pursue the Way of the Sword.
After gaining his legendary moniker, Musashi begins a long journey across Japan, seeking to refine his skill and spirit. His travels bring him into contact with rival schools of combat, wandering swordsmen and moral dilemmas that test his evolving philosophy. Along the way, Musashi challenges a number of prestigious martial clans, most notably the Yoshioka school in Kyoto; these confrontations escalate from formal duels to ambushes, forcing the warrior to carefully balance survival with honour.
Throughout his quest, Musashi grapples with human relationships – Otsu’s steadfast love, Matahachi’s downward spiral – that mirror his struggle between worldly desire and spiritual discipline. A parallel thread follows Kojiro Sasaki (Ken Takakura), a gifted swordsman whose ambition and elegance contrast with Musashi’s rugged pragmatism; the pair spark a bitter rivalry that grows into a symbolic and dramatic contest of principles and ideals. The story culminates in a legendary duel between the two on Ganryu Island.”
I must admit, it’s been a long time since I saw Inagaki’s Samurai Trilogy, so it’s difficult to compare the sagas in any detail. However, my ‘gut reaction’, if you will, seems to lean towards Uchida’s take on the material. I can remember liking Inagaki’s films, but not feeling they quite lived up to their reputations. The five-part Miyamoto Musashi series, on the other hand, impressed me greatly.
Japanese cinema is known for its lengthy film series, be it the Zatoichi films, of which there were 26 entries in the original run alone, or the 33-film Godzilla series (not including the American iterations). Each film in series such as these can often stand alone, simply featuring recurring characters or repeating formulaic plots, rather than continuing long-running storylines. The Miyamoto Musashi series, however, is one long narrative that has been broken into five sections, though each does have its own arc, so as to make for a satisfying watch on its own.
This allows for a richer, more gradual development of the central character. It’s not just the extended running time that sets Uchida’s version apart, though. To quote Joe Hickinbottom once again (thank you, if you’re reading this), he describes Uchida’s series as “remarkable not for how accurately it tells the Musashi story but for how it manages to at once mythologise and question it within the confines of its commercial boundaries”
Musashi doggedly follows his quest to become the ultimate swordsman, but we can see that it’s only hurting those around him and creating a never-ending spiral of death and misery. It reminded me a little of Henry King’s The Gunfighter, in this sense. The futility of Musashi’s quest is not as notable in Inagaki’s films, if there at all, from what I can remember and gather from some of the extras in this set.
Though centred around the growth of a male swordsman (not technically a samurai, as he never served a daimyo), the film has a number of interesting female characters too. The long-suffering Otsu can feel like a bit of a love-blinded figure of pity at times, but she does get some more powerful moments in the final episode, when she confronts Miyamoto about the implications of his actions. There’s also Matahachi’s mother, Osugi, or Obaba (meaning ‘grandma’, played by Chieko Naniwa). She’s an outspoken force of nature who will never give up on her mission to get revenge on Musashi, who she believes brought tragedy and dishonour to her family.
The mother and daughter characters of Oko (Michiyo Kogure) and Akemi (Satomi Oka) are also quite interesting, as they dip in and out of the story. They are actually largely to blame for Osugi’s anger, without her knowing, and are central to some of the series’ more shocking sequences.
One of my favourite scenes comes in the fourth instalment, when a geisha, Yoshino Tayu (Kaneko Iwasaki), sings and plays the biwa for a group of men, including Musashi, who has just snuck back into the compound after killing a swordsman who challenged him. When left alone together following this, Yoshino brutally analyses Musashi’s countenance and lifestyle through observations made during her performance. It’s one of the few times you see our hero set back and lost for words.
The films are beautifully crafted, too. Shots are carefully composed and lit, and there are some great tracking and crane shots in places. Locations and nature, more generally, are put to good use, even if some of the film is shot on the studio backlot. More importantly, staging is used to tell the story and enrich the characters, rather than simply to look pretty.
There’s a particularly stylish scene at the end of part 4, when the Yoshioka clan send 73 men to take down Musashi. It’s set at dusk and, rather than opt for a day-for-night effect or anything like that, Uchida decides to switch to black and white for the battle. It’s a bold move that helps set this climactic scene apart.
The editing is sharp, too, with some effective intercutting and clever match cuts bridging scenes. The sense of pace is well-balanced too, with an often meditative approach making way for quicker cuts in the action sequences. This accentuates the violent nature of these often short, sharp scenes.
This high standard of filmmaking is maintained throughout the series, and the story grips, despite its relatively measured pace, overall.
If I were to pick a fault with the series, it would be the very end of it all, which, whilst thematically fitting, feels a little underwhelming after such a lengthy journey to get there. Without wanting to spoil it, the tension building to the final duel is effective, and the face-off itself is suitably thrilling. However, the revelation that follows feels quite rushed.
This is a minor quibble in an otherwise magnificent set of films, however. Uchida’s take on the legend is beautifully made, thought-provoking and deeply engrossing. I’m surprised it’s taken so long to get the credit it’s due in the West, and hopefully this release will go some way to remedy that.
Films: 
Zen & Sword: The Miyamoto Musashi Saga at Toei is out on 23rd February on Blu-Ray, released by Eureka as part of their Masters of Cinema series. The transfers are gorgeous, with rich colours and textures. It’s a little on the dark side, perhaps, but not enough to lose detail in the picture. I had no issues with the audio on any of the films, either.
LIMITED EDITION BLU-RAY SPECIAL FEATURES:
– Limited Collector’s Edition Box Set [2000 copies]
– Limited edition hardbound slipcase featuring new art by John Dunn [2000 copies]
– Limited edition 100-page collector’s book featuring translated writing by Miyamoto Musashi, notes on each film in Toei’s Musashi series by Japanese cinema expert Joe Hickinbottom and a new essay on the films’ stars by Jennifer Coates, author of Film Viewing in Postwar Japan, 1945-1968 [2000 copies]
– 1080p HD presentations on Blu-ray from new 4K restorations by Toei
– Optional English subtitles, newly revised for this release
– New audio commentary on Miyamoto Musashi with Japanese cinema expert Jonathan Wroot
– New audio commentary on Miyamoto Musashi II: Showdown at Hannyazaka Heights with critic and Japanese cinema specialist Jasper Sharp
– Live by the Sword – new video essay on Miyamoto Musashi in history and popular culture by Jonathan Clements, author of A Brief History of Japan: Samurai, Shōgun and Zen: The Extraordinary Story of the Land of the Rising Sun
– A Legendary Swordsman – new appreciation of Toei’s Miyamoto Musashi saga by film critic Tony Rayns
– On Otsu and Other Women – new interview with Japanese cinema scholar Jennifer Coates on female representation in Toei’s Miyamoto Musashi saga
– Trailers
Jonathan Root provides a commentary over the first film. He talks about the Miyamoto Musashi figure and the various films that were inspired by his life and legend, digging into the films in this set, in particular. It’s a strong track.
This is partnered with a track by Jasper Sharp over the second film. The pair purposefully avoid treading on each other’s toes, with Sharp spending more time discussing the director, Tomu Uchida. It’s another wonderful addition to the set.
After briefly putting the films in historical context, Jennifer Coates talks about the interesting female characters in the series. It’s an intriguing essay/interview.
Tony Rayns is interviewed about Miyamoto Musashi in a 28-minute piece, talking about the real-life figure as well as this particular screen adaptation of his life. Later, he talks about the career of director Tomu Uchida and argues the case for his version of Miyamoto Musashi as being a superior interpretation of the legend to Hiroshi Inagaki’s Samurai Trilogy.
There’s also an essay by Jonathan Clements. He provides further background to the series, as well as discussing its themes. It’s another strong piece, that works as an excellent cover-all for those who might not have time or patience to listen to the commentaries.
The booklet, or rather book (as it runs to 100 pages), contains a pair of first-class essays by Joe Hickinbottom and Jennifer Coates. The former (in an essay that greatly aided the writing of this review) looks at the various interpretations of the Miyamoto Musashi story in Post-War Japan, largely comparing Inagaki’s series with Uchida’s, whilst Coates’ essay compares two of the contrasting male stars of the series. She suggests why they work well together, as well as why they may have been cast.
The book also includes a translation of Musashi’s ‘Book of Five Rings’ and a set of 21 precepts he’d written about ‘The Way of Walking Alone’. These are wonderful inclusions to the set. I also appreciated the short glossary of terms, and there is some beautiful artwork in the book, including several paintings by Musashi himself and dramatic depictions of the figure from the 1800s, along with the usual press material.
So, Eureka have put together a wonderful set, celebrating a long unsung adaptation of a classic Japanese legend. I can’t recommend it enough.
Disc/Package: