A talented craftsman whose samurai and yakuza films rank amongst the best ever made, director Hideo Gosha has received relatively little recognition in the United States. His association with action-oriented genres may be part of the reason for this neglect, but Gosha's work is more than just exciting swordplay and gun battles; his films are thoughtful portrayals of protagonists facing ethical dilemmas in corrupt societies.
In the director's second film, Sword of the Beast (Kedamono no Ken, 1965), set in 1857, samurai Gennosuke Yuuki (Mikijiro Hira) murders a prominent counselor of his clan. Declaring that he is abandoning the traditional samurai code to live like a beast, he flees, pursued by the murdered counselor's daughter Misa (Toshie Kimura), her fiancée Daizaburo Torio (Kantaro Suga) and several of the clan's samurai. Gennosuke falls in with a small-time crook, Tanji (Kunie Tanaka), and the two discover a young couple, Jurota Yamane (Go Kato) and his wife Taka (Shima Iwashita), illegally poaching gold on land belonging to the shogunate. The disgraced samurai is prepared to help Tanji steal the gold and kill Jurota until he learns the poacher's true motive. Seeing parallels with the ambition that brought about his own downfall, Gennosuke fights to avert a tragedy only he foresees and in so doing reclaims his lost honor.
In many traditional westerns, civilization is depicted as a force that tames or represses man's cruder instincts. Working in the chambara genre, Gosha and co-screenwriter Eizaburo Shiba invert this concept: a corrupt society brings out beastly behavior and turns men against one another. In Sword of the Beast, mid-19th Century Japan is portrayed as a harsh, class-based society in which advancement seems impossible without compromising one's virtue, committing atrocious acts and facing dreadful moral choices. Even day-to-day survival often necessitates deceit or thievery.
Gosha sets the tone in the opening scene. Pursued by his old clan, Gennosuke encounters a prostitute who tempts him into letting down his guard. When he realizes he's been lured into a trap, the woman begs forgiveness: "Forgive me! They paid me!" Throughout the film, characters act against their better instincts just to get by and engage in acts of betrayal and deception. Life for the lower classes is a day-by-day, dog-eat-dog struggle.
The upper classes are no better morally. The authority figures abuse their power and crassly manipulate others to gain wealth or status. Even Misa and the samurai seeking Gennosuke, who believe they are acting to uphold justice and tradition, arrogantly abuse their position by repeatedly threatening and intimidating others. The desire for vengeance taints their quest.
This portrait of widespread moral compromise is unusual in a genre usually known for clearly identifiable heroes and villains. It creates for the viewer a sort of moral disorientation, since early on no character appears to be a traditional hero. Gennosuke is clearly the lead character, and we admire his skill with a sword, but we're told he's a murderer who has betrayed his clan and dishonored himself. When Jurota is introduced, he looks like he might be the hero, but he's stealing gold and killing anyone who interferes. With no obvious hero or villain, the viewer is forced to study each character's actions and try to discover their true motives, which Gosha does not reveal until late in the film. Sword of the Beast becomes an engaging character drama in addition to an exciting action movie.
Viewers watching chiefly for the action will definitely not be disappointed, as the film contains several thrilling, well-staged set pieces. Gosha tends to favor short, intense, intimate fight scenes photographed in medium- or long-shot and presented in long takes. This puts a greater emphasis on the fight choreography and the skill of the performers, leading to a grittier, more intense feeling than a typical Hollywood action scene that is all stunt doubles and quick cutting. Gosha also accents the scenes with bits of sudden motion that add visual dynamism: splashes of water, a burst of steam, a swinging piece of thatch.
Both the action sequences and the character-driven dialogue scenes benefit from Gosha's greatest directorial gift, his unerring eye for composition. Each shot is framed in a manner that is expressive and dramatic, never merely functional or decorative. Coupled with the excellent black & white 'scope cinematography of Toshitada Tsuchiya, Gosha's compositional skills give Sword of the Beast a striking visual style.
Acting in action films is rarely given much credit, but Mikijiro Hira deserves recognition for his performance as Gennosuke. The role is challenging in that for most of the film there is little on the surface to elicit audience sympathy. In the hands of a lesser actor, Gennosuke would likely come across as a cold-hearted villain or a self-pitying whiner. Hira conveys the samurai's inner torment and bitter self-reproach with subtlety, through a look, a pause weighted with pained reflection or an inflection that suddenly betrays his true feelings. At times his Gennosuke is like a man recovering from a horrible shock who can barely function beyond basic survival. The rest of the cast is solid as well, including Go Kato, stoic and resolute as Jurota; Shima Iwashita, who invests Taka with dignity and compassion; and Yôko Mihara, who brings interesting shadings to the "femme fatale" role of Osen.
