Miyamoto Musashi kanketsu-hen: Kettô Ganryû-jima

This film is the final installment of director Hiroshi Inagaki's "Samurai Trilogy," three films covering the life of Musashi Miyamoto (Takezo,) Japan's most famous swordsman of the early 17th century and perhaps of all time.

He was an icon of the warrior-philosopher model. He survived numerous duels to the death and retired to painting and writing. His best known work is the "Book of Five Rings," a book which gained popularity recently when it was championed by the Harvard Business School.

All three films of Inagaki's trilogy, made in 1954, 1955, and 1956, are part of the elite Criterion Collection of classic films.

Briefly, this movie resolves the conflict of the two women in Takezo's life, Otsu and Akemi, and leads up to Musashi's showdown with the second most famous swordsman of the day, Sasaki Kojiro. This is the famous Duel at Ganryu Island of the title.

Although I cannot appreciate the Japanese language and must rely on the English subtitles for the meaning of dialog, I do appreciate the beauty of this early widescreen color film. (I believe Tojoscope is a Japanese version of cinemascope.) One could take almost every frame of this film and it would make a stunning still. The costumes and the sets reflect an attention to detail of color, lighting and composition.

For its sense of rather understated action, I particularly enjoyed the opening scene. Sasaki Kojiro demonstrates his signature Swallowtail Turn, a move whereby he severs the tail feathers of this notably swift and agile bird in flight. It's not the portrayed animal cruelty that I enjoyed; it's the human quickness and skill that would be required to accomplish such a feat. I certainly hope that no birds were actually harmed in the making of the film.

Samurai III: Duel on Ganryu Island is the closing film of Inagaki's Samurai trilogy, the story of Musashi Miyamoto (Mifune). It is one of the best samurai films on its own and has the advantage of having the characters' history established in the first two films of the trilogy. This film abounds in good characters: Musashi's two disciples, a young boy and a horse trader, who exchange good natured barbs and loyally support Musashi; the two women in Musashi's life, good girl Otsu and bad girl Akemi; the brigand leader and his henchman, who was formerly Akemi's stepfather; and of course, Musashi's nemesis, Kojiro Sasaki, who is outstanding in both this film and Samurai II. Kojiro is actually a more interesting character than Musashi and reminds me of Tatsuya Nakadai's performance in Sword of Doom. The climactic duel on the beach with the rising sun in the background is amazing. Side note: This film has four of Kurosawa's Seven Samurai actors: Mifune, Shimura, Kato and Chiaki. See the whole trilogy.

Samurai III boasts far superior color and composition to the first installment. The opener includes a beautiful scene of Kojiro and Akemi by a magnificent waterfall. This sets the stylistically polished tone of the film, a nice attempt to revive our interest in the sometimes-stalling narrative (Will Kojiro fight the indestructible Musashi? Is Otsu going to get her man after spurning his inviting advances?)

In terms of eye candy, this finale gives the most exotic colors (some may complain as "un-Japanese"), the best lighting, and the most skin of Mifune's Musashi! The story continues with the intellectual and spiritual education of Musashi. Even though the final duel is set up to be his moment of self-realisation, it is preceded by a tad-curious sequence of Musashi's farmlife. Very reminiscent of the samurai-villager relationship in Seven Samurai, Musashi becomes their protector against bandits. The result is formulaic but does what the story intends: return Musashi to a life of the earth - a humanist existence preached by his Buddhist education - and to his humble origin.

P.S. Although Miyamoto Musashi/Samurai I is crucial to understanding the rise of our hero, it probably got Best Foreign film for 1955 Academy Awards during the sudden "discovery" of Japanese films starting with Rashomon.

And if you're looking for a female figure with as much spunk as Musashi himself, note the courtesan in Samurai II. Her chastisement of Musashi, that he lacks humanly affection and thinks of women as weaklings, almost makes up for the overall iffy portrayal of "romantic heroines" in the trilogy!

1st watched 4/19/2003 - 7 out of 10(Dir-Hiroshi Inagaki): Sweeping romantic Hollywood-like epic from Japan that just happens to be about a Samurai. This is the last in a trilogy of films about Mr. Musashi(played by Toshiru Mifune) and his Samurai journeys. This one plays more like a romantic piece with two women fighting(bawling & brawling) over the affections of this strong-willed but soft-hearted hero and brave warrior. It's awesome to see a film made in Japan where the warrior hero cares about more than killing his opponent. The obvious issue of honor is foremost in this Samurai's mind and the killing just comes with the job. So many films that Americans were introduced to from Japan were either silly Godzilla-type movies or karate flicks(with almost no heart, but a lot of fighting). This is the kind of movie that Japan is probably very proud of, but is not often seen by American audiences. Bravo to Criterion for putting this into their DVD collection!! Now I'd just like to see the 1st two pictures in the trilogy to know more about what happened to the characters prior to this film. The climatic duel is also `one-of-a-kind' and has to be seen to be appreciated. I'll just leave it at that without giving too much away. Give this one a shot, you'll be glad you did!

This comment flows out from previous ones.

In cinematic terms, the trilogy looks to both East and West. West: the Hollywood western feel and tone of romantic adventure in a lawless land. Usually in a western this is rooted in landscape, the vast expanse of sky and desert that crystallizes being, which reflects Western notions of god. By contrast here, the landscape is fluid and dynamic: a recurring and important motif is transient bodies of water, and often bridges, human effort to ford time.

This is how each film ends, With these evocative shots of running waters as lovers part with the tides. The last shot leaves Musashi on a boat and we're unsure where the tides bring him next. Oh, a lot of the film is otherwise steeped in studio-lot artifice, you will often see for instance painted skies and sunsets.

The underlying visual inspiration is Japanese ukiyo-e. Buddhist- inspired in its original context, images (often of water or bridges) reflected this floating world of sorrows and melancholy yearning. We see this in Musashi's own journey of mastering self, reaching here the almost ascetic contentment of working the land.

Mizoguchi was more somberly portraying this floating world at the time. Later jidaigeki would more bitterly question the heroism and samurai devotion. Here it is a rustic, straightforward rendition in keeping with public perception of Musashi as a straight soul; so are the images, so is the drama. Handcarving, folk instead of high art. The iconography has been given specific care to emulate idyllic perceptions of Musashi's time.

So, a heroic story of romanticized legend, acted by a great Mifune, who like Musashi, had an intuitive rather than studied grasp of life. Told by referencing artistic tradition of that time which is romanticized by the same step, which is (roughly) the same distance in time to us.

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The trilogy doesn't mine in a cinematic way Musashi's rich ideas about the 'Way', expressed in writing near the end of his life and passed on to a student. Musashi of course wrote on swordsmanship. Roughly speaking, his teaching is layered in the following way: realizing the many crafts as one, right technique, right strategy, refutation of flawed strategy, void as principle. (meant in the Buddhist way)

Musashi did not intend to establish a rigidly complicated system of study, but rather quickly sketch a practical handbook for the continuation of his school. He was not a learned scholar, nor from the Buddhist standpoint a spiritual master. His writings are not artistic. When he says 'cut the opponent with a void spirit', it is not metaphor, poetry or metaphysics. He is trying to distill an experiential state of mind.

The specifics of fighting do not interest us here, an abstract look at first principles should. The idea is that fighting before we even get to blows is two viewers coming together, establishing a situation. Referred to in the books as strategy, what Musashi is talking about is ways to manipulate the psychology of the situation.

Some it is makes amazing common sense, for instance approach the other feigning a lazy or weak demeanor then close the gap in the last steps with an explosive burst, what he calls 'getting someone drunk'. There are all sorts of this if you read carefully; 'passing on' mental states, creating mental states in the other, picturing yourself as the other, all to control and direct perception.

It seems what rules in these and other instances is the enigmatic 'twofold gaze', perception and sight. What can this be? Musashi does not explain, but I think it's this; grasping the difference and, ultimately, the inseparability of seeing and perception as the whole stageplay carried on in the mind's eye. Actually experience this. This is a bit like: sight is the calm lake before you while perception, the fact that a self is actively engaged in perceiving, a self which can experience fear or arrogance, is constantly throwing pebbles in that lake, distorting the surface.

We have similar notions in the West of how the latter bends the first. But Musashi is worth studying for the purely intuitive immediacy of the imports, it was after all something he learned as a matter of life and death.

This is observing dynamics instead of trying to decipher intent, theorizing. Fixing the eyes but not stopping the mind coming and going, cultivating an inquisitive and broad spirit. The idea is that none of this is an idea, but something that can be practiced and observed. That's also the Tao. The practice of perceiving the inner self of things through the outside form.