Miyamoto Musashi kanketsu-hen: Kettô Ganryû-jima

This was, by far the best of the trilogy and a fine ending. It had less Samurai action that the other two, but it was much more inspiring.

Kojiro (Koji Tsuruta) thought himself the best in the land and sought a duel with Musashi (Toshirô Mifune). But Musashi wanted to devote his life to becoming a better person. he went back to the land that he rejected and became a farmer.

In the meantime, both Otsu (Kaoru Yachigusa) and Akemi (Mariko Okada) managed to find him. Can you imagine that scene? Feeling rejected, Akemi is made to betray Musashi to the brigands. The effort fails and Musashi accepts the duel with Kojiro.

The duel itself was magnificent but short. It was a fitting end to a film that featured outstanding cinematography and a compelling story of the drive to perfection.

"In the old days, I used to hate farm work. I was always daydreaming, longing for victory and renown. I could think of nothing else. Now I'm tilling the fields again. Isn't it strange? I'm beginning to learn the value of life."

In this film's opening scene, we see Sasaki Kojiro (Koji Tsuruta) tell his lover (Michiko Saga) that he must fight Miyamoto Musashi for no other reason than the two of them are the best samurai in Japan. They're in a beautiful place with waterfalls streaming down and a rainbow arcing gracefully overhead as he calmly states his purpose, something which immediately begs the question, why? He is in an Eden of sorts, and yet feels compelled to fight an honorable man, unprovoked, to death.

Meanwhile we see the spiritual growth of Musashi (Toshiro Mifune) in the very next scene, when he's willing to humble himself and apologize for an offense the boy who's travelling with him has committed. He consistently makes decisions to avoid battle if at all possible, even if the other guy has it coming to him. We see it here, the first time when Sasaki catches up with him in a cemetery, and when he simply shows an ornery guy his fly catching prowess with his chopsticks to let him draw his own conclusions about continuing to provoke him.

The two of these great samurai (who were indeed real 17th century historical figures) are destined to fight one another, though Musashi puts Kojiro off for year, delaying the inevitable. Does director Hiroshi Inagaki effectively fill in the time it takes to get to the titular battle over the film's 105 minutes? Somewhat. There are bandits who must be fought off, and then there are the love interests. Both Otsu (Kaoru Yachigusa) and Akemi (Mariko Okada) are still carrying a torch for Musashi, and arrive in the rural area where he's taken up the simple life of farming. Personally I thought Akemi's character, the fallen woman who men have "made a plaything of," was muddled and added unnecessary melodrama. I think the film would have been stronger had she not been present, or shown instead fading into the ignominy of prostitution. Regardless, this third and last film in the trilogy suffers from some of the same problems its predecessors did, with the two women throwing themselves at his feet in what started to feel like filler until we got to the final battle (though I did like the resolution for Otsu).

The film is visually quite beautiful, with shots in a cemetery, reflections in the water, and walking past Mt. Fuji coming to mind. The poetry and precision of both lead actors striking samurai poses and movements should also be in that list, and nowhere is it done better than in their final battle, which brought the film full circle back to its beginning. There is something symbolic in this fight taking place out on the beach at sunset as the timeless waves gently roll in, oblivious to the human drama. Musashi recognizes it, and it's why he weeps. He weeps for the pointlessness of it, he weeps for mankind's insatiable urge to dominate or kill when it isn't necessary. His spiritual journey is complete, and he'll go back to Otsu and farming, not looking for trouble as he did so brashly at the beginning of the first film. He's enlightened, but how can we hope for humanity when there will always be another Kojiro?

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.

I feel very confident and content once I finished watching the trilogy. What starts of a nothing end on greatness. Lots of things have been said in the movie about the humans, the way they live, they behave, they treat others and above all their desires grooved in the very depth of the heart. What is most likable is the mildness with which things are being said but every bit needs to be heard with full attention. After watching the trilogy I read the book written by Miyamoto (A book of five rings – Must read) himself and got an inside more clearly.

Now the movies, all three are gems without a second thought. The acting, cinematography and above all the direction is very good. Emphasis on little things, shades of lights (sun is setting etc) and even water (streams, rivers) everything is perfectly matched with the movie to the core. Above all is the way Mifune enacted the role, the way he delivers the expressions for an arrogant in the first outing, then the confused man and in the last gentle, kind and wise person is extremely believable and I have no doubt in saying that I can't imagine someone else in the role.

A must watch trilogy.

8.5/10 (all three movies)

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.