Duel à Ichijoji

The great cast that was in Musashi Miyamoto, the first part of this samurai trilogy continues in the second part with a few additions.

By this time Musashi Miyamoto has been on the road for three years and is still learning. The most important lesson as a Samurai will not be learned until the film is almost over. Another important lesson comes quickly after that, and it will interesting to see how it plays out in the final part.

In the opening Musashi Miyamoto is doing battle with a samurai similar to our buddy Hanzo. They are the only two I have ever seen use chains.

After this he heads to Kyoto to do battle with the best in the capital, and also to get himself mixed up with the two women who are in love with him.

Love, fickleness, treachery, rape, revenge, honor, and great sword fighting all have a place in this magnificent film.

The amazing cinematography and scenery also place an important part.

This is truly a samurai classic.

The first part of the trilogy was setting up the story, visually resplendent but leaves you out in the open. In this second part the direction is solidified. Musashi is set up to choose between the way of the sword or love for the girl Otsu, while having to face his nemesis, foreshadowed for the closing chapter.

What puts me off this second chapter, which I rate the lowest of the three, is that we had a set of characters in the first film, and suddenly we have another set of characters. The film revolves around his feud with the Yoshioki school.

So in a way, this loose narrative foreshadows the third chapter. As it emerges in this second film, the film is not one long epic split in three parts. Neither is each of these first two films self-enclosed. The narrative is a loose stitching together of episode and digress, thrust and feint in many directions; observant viewers will notice the same in the elliptical shooting mode.

I will not say more about this as a film since we are still halfway there, instead let's look at some context around the film, here on the fluidity of self.

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This is a core precept of Buddhism, which features prominently in the films; Musashi receives key lessons by monks, his journey is one of self-realization, internal abating of ego.

This fluidity is seen in the transmission and establishment of Buddhism in Japan over several hundred years through several attempts, several travels of Japanese monks in China. Both notable Zen schools in Japan were initiated by monks of the Tendai sect who had been to China. The film's main two centerpieces take place outside Buddhist temples (one is referenced in the title, the other is Sanjusangen-do), both belonging to Tendai. The Sanjusangen-do, a marvelous structure, is also famous for housing one thousand and one statues of the thousand armed Kannon, the boddhisatva of compassion. The little wooden statuette that Musashi is seen carving in spots is of Kannon.

Now simply saying that the self is illusory sounds weird, metaphysical or philosophical at best. Buddhists have many of the same lofty words as we do, about 'void' and 'self', but whereas we're accustomed to theoretical construction and analytical philosophy (we love words in the West), they resort to words as a last means of describing a practice—also evident in Musashi's own writings where he stresses experiential appreciation.

So when they say 'void', they don't mean a generality but something which can be felt, has been felt, as one feels the temperature of water. When they say 'self', they mean when a single thought arises while you're washing the dishes.

It's a pain in the ass to talk of it, because how can you say exactly how warm it is? It either is to you or isn't. Stick your hand in. Zen Masters (as well as Musashi whose 'Way of strategy' is Zen-flavored) knew this, which is why they loved paradox, urged silence or beat and kicked their students when they asked logical questions. The point is to know for yourself. A similar thing happens to Musashi in the first film when he is tied by a Zen monk from a tree, a fictional event.

This monk, Takuan, existed; though his interactions with Musashi in the film are fiction, presumably he did know Musashi. He wrote on this business of illusion and nonself using sword metaphors, because the writings were intended for Yagyu Munenori, sword instructor to three shoguns and with Musashi the most famous swordsman in his day. Munenori briefly appears in the third film.

Munenori and Musashi both wrote books with background in all this. Both are still being widely read in the martial arts and business worlds, by people looking for insights on real or metaphorical war.

Musashi's first four books comprise technique and strategy. The last one and shortest, Book of the Void, which is held in separate esteem, probably because of the portentous title, is where Musashi speaks of the Zen void as deeper principle—it should be the most interesting but isn't, Musashi's practical conveyance falls short. No, it's the books on strategy that deserve study once you look past hand-to-hand combat, at least for our purposes here.

Suffice to say, both Zen and Musashi urge direct observation of mind instead of general reasoning. Suffice to say, from the perspective of Zen a Kannon statue is no more sacred than the piece of wood it was carved from. And that the act of carving is the manifestation of self, this can be practically observed in the carved image—is it sloppy, elegant? This is important. So neither spoken word, nor teachings in a book, nor sacred image, nor Zen or not Zen, but observation of the mind behind. I'm going to wrap this in the third post.

The tale of Myamoto Musashi - thief, lover, rogue, then warrior, hero and master - is enshrined in Japanese culture, perfect showcase material as it were. It has been adapted more than once to the screen, and Inagaki's classy, colorful version is perhaps the best known. It is everything you'd expect from a period samurai film if you've never seen one and harbor no negative preconceptions.

After a playful first part that has a classic hero's journey structure, part II takes things to the next level without having to rush to the finish, and is the more interesting film. It allows the hero to wield his newfound power without the restraint and inner peace he will later find. It allows him the get mad, and nobody does unleashed fury like Toshiro Mifune, not when you throw 80+ armed fools in this way.

I chose to review this one because it is a good sample of the very best this trilogy accomplishes: compelling archetypical characters, lush cinematography and that "oriental" elegance that always seduces non-Japanese audiences, drawn in as they are by the very universal plot and character dynamics.

I cannot put it in the same leagues as the masterpieces of Kurosawa, Ozu and Kobayashi, but if it is to be a gateway film experience, then it is a bloody good one, and laudable for what it accomplishes.

You might really enjoy this, and if you do, it's just the beginning!

This comment about the "Samurai Trilogy" starts on the page for Miyamoto Musashi (Samurai I). My first viewing of the second episode was memorable because I got to take the train into town all by myself, and view it in a Tokyo theater. The first episode had just been shown on base, in a sort of cultural exchange, and my parents saw it and were pleasantly non-outraged-- I was a 9-year-old samurai-movie addict, and they believed enthusiasm beyond a certain intensity should be curbed. It was the same conflict as comic books some few years earlier. Technicolor was a big deal back then, especially in Japan, and it became the issue on which my viewing of "swordfighting movies" was decided-- the ones in color were historical films worth viewing, and even had something to teach. The black-and-white ones shown in Irumagawa and surrounding villages-- I had to sneak off to see. Ichijoji no Ketto (Duel at Ichijoji Temple) shows Miyamoto-san's achievements, while barring no holds on the issue of what they cost him. The romantic subplot continues, though its development in the western sense (toward union, wedded bliss) is thwarted at every turn. The issue is always a conflict between love and duty, and each deferment of gratification spells out a new step in the redefinition of the national character that is being mapped here. Again, some of the importance of all this is lost, even to modern Japanese audiences for whom the issues are long settled-- at the time, though, they were cliffhangers. A new character is introduced, Kojiro Sasaki who will emerge in part 3 as a rival for Musashi-- his equal except for certain features in their respective character. By the way, the score is excellent and haunting-- it extends like a symphony through all three parts, and has a leitmotif "hook" that will cause your ears to pick up in recognition, perhaps years from now, when you hear it again.

Being the middle film of a trilogy, Duel at Ichijoji Temple thankfully came with a lot more battle sequences than the first film, and had more finesse in its swordplay since our legendary heroic character Takezo (Toshiro Mifune) is now a skilled swordsman, but yet to put into practice many aspects of Bushido, and often criticized in the manner in which he finishes off his opponents because of his innate brute strength and force.

But I guess when you're top dog, criticism comes part and parcel, and in his warrior pilgrimage in discovery of skill and self, we see how he further develops, though at time I felt that the story utilized a cheat sheet just like the first film, where priest Takuan (Kuroemon Onoe) locked him in a castle with plenty of books. Here, while Takezo is in hiding, he spends plenty of time indoors under the patronage of Lady Yoshino (Michiyo Kogure), a courtesan who would inculcate some compassion into the gruff man's life - while he looks refined on the outside, his ambition and reputation continue to earn him no favours, especially since he had issued a challenge to the Yoshioka School.

As a middle film, it expanded the mythology, and further developed the characters who made teasing appearances in the first one. For instance, the young man who was smitten by Akemi (Mariko Okada) turns out to be none other than the leader of the Yoshioka School, Seijuro Yoshioka (Akihiro Hirata), who in a fit of envy began to violate Akemi, taking his ineptness onto a helpless girl. Such are incidents that make the character a little revolting, and the members of his school showcased to be nothing more than mere bullies to the townsfolk, as well as constantly sucking up to Seijuro by shielding his incompetence from the real world.

The villains in this installment turn out to be more formidable than the thugs and brigands that Takezo had to deal with earlier. In fact, the first duel was a battle with an opponent using a chain-and-sickle, in compensation for the lack of a swordfight as a climax in the first film. Unfortunately I found this to be mildly exciting, as the full screen presentation only allowed for that fatal blow to be delivered off screen. The middle duel with Denshichiro Yoshioka was also somewhat of a let down given the buildup, because it only allowed a brief clashing of the weapons, before director Hiroshi Inagaki decided to cut away to a song! It felt like a little short-change, though the result of the match was made known indirectly later.

And the expansion of the characters here only made the story richer. Familiar faces like Takezo's lover Otsu (Kaoru Tachigusa) returns to pine a lot more for him after 3 years of waiting, while her ex-fiancé Matahachi (Sachio Sakai) degenerates worse in character, into a good for nothing liar and a cheat, married to Akemi's scheming mom Oko (Mitsuko Mito). We also get introduced to sword polisher Hanomi (Ko Mihashi) who's supposed to play an influential role in swaying Takezo's mindset, though the narrative here didn't allow too much of that on screen, deflecting it towards Lady Yoshino, for yet another romantic entanglement, where the female characters are all weak in their knees in Takezo's manly presence.

But the most important character introduced in the film would be Kojiro Sasaki (Koji Tsuruta), the eventual nemesis of Takezo's, but you've got to wait until the next film to see them do battle. Here, Kojiro's like the predator, slowly studying and stalking his prey. We know little of his background, apart from his certification of swordsmanship, and his cool, collected demeanour as opposed to Takezo's brash emotions, so that already sets him up to be mile apart as a strong adversary in time to come. So far he has played things in quite a gentlemanly way, refusing to take cheap shortcuts, patiently and probably egoistically waiting for Takezo to attain more skills, before bringing down a powerful opponent.

Again the technical aspects of this DVD presentation left much to be desired, especially in the night or dawn battle scenes. It's not digitally remastered, so these scenes become really dark and marred the enjoyment of many outdoor fights, especially the titular one where Takezo goes up against 80 opponents, and learns for a start that evading battle may not be so bad an option, especially when one is severely outnumbered due to a sickening, dishonourable scheme to turn tables. I would have wished for a better presentation so that it would not detract your attention to pops and cackles, or unintentional hues to come and stain the picture quality.

Duel at Ichijoji Temple ended just like how it began, with Takezo continuing his journey to seek bushido-enlightenment. It wrapped up some of the life journeys and lessons learnt by the protagonist in this episode, and sets it all up for the climax to be in the last installment of the trilogy.