Le sabre du mal

A classic Samurai picture that is as confusing as it is violent. Ryunosuke Tsukue is the main character, a Samurai with a dark and merciless nature. You might even call him evil. The path he takes (with multiple subplots that don't always seem to be resolved) leads him to madness. The confusing aspects may be due to the fact that there were supposed to be sequels, as well as the fact that the story was a famous one in Japan and hence, certain parts were to be assumed by that audience. Nonetheless, it was still a fairly compelling watch, especially with the action, a precursor to the violence in such films as the excellent Lone Wolf and Cub series. Hands and fingers are cut off, blood is shed, and the climatic ending features a body count along the lines of The House of Blue Leaves!

There is, of course, no question that the protagonist here is the handsome and insane Ryunosuke. And I can see that his insanity, alienation, and disassociation all come together in a climax of hallucination and compulsion. But there are things that I do not see. First, why is he insane? That is, what is his origin and the origin of his evil style of sword play? Second, why is there at least one very absorbing subplot which is developed and then dropped? I mean the romance between the "grand daughter" and Mifune's chief student and the tension regarding their welfare that builds up because of the plan of revenge? Is there some overriding master plan here; or some historical, cultural, etc. concept that I am missing?

The villain of this piece is one of the most memorable in Japanese, maybe even film, history. His crazed looks and more than that his oddness, seem just right for a killer, it's more the look of a dangerous unpredictable animal than a human being.

Much of what's said by others about this movie is true, but I'm writing to give you a few very minor tips that I think will enhance the movie. I'm not really giving anything away, but just to set your perceptions.

First Tishiro Mifune has what amounts to a very small part, he's an important part but does not star in the film by any stretch. Also the plot it somewhat confused upon first viewing. The final sword fight is very very good and bloody but....

The problem with the ending is that it doesn't resolve a major subplot. Kinda I suppose like a Cohen brothers movie it sets up stuff that it has no interest, I guess, in dealing with in conventional ways, but in this case as in the case of the rare "lesser" Cohen Brothers movies this time it does hurt the film.

Still memorable, villain saves the day, both in performance and direction. Too bad they didn't quite keep it all together plot wise and ending wise.

Imagine Nakadai's murderous Onosuke from Yojimbo; then raise the level of his single-minded purpose an order of magnitude to the fated dancer of The Red Shoes and you get a vague idea of Ryunosuke, a psychopathic samuari hunted by the righteous and villainous alike. Hiroshi Murai's gritty B& W photography is awesome; and the choreography and staging of the swordfighting sequences are far and away the most rivetting I've ever seen (and I think I've seen most of them) -- not romantically stylized as in Inagaki's Samurai Trilogy -- something like the subtlety of Kurosawa meets the textured action of John Woo. The characters are intense and memorable. The final freeze frame may put you in mind of Butch Cassidy. You'll never forget it.

"Sword of Doom" is an unusual film. Firstly, it is one of the most brilliantly photographed films I have ever seen, in composition, mise en scene, and the play of black and white.

Secondly, "Sword of Doom" is that rare film in which the aim of the director and the power of the lead mesh together to form an unforgettable portrayal.

Tatsuya Nakadai plays Ryunosuke, a skilled swordsman, who, from the opening moments of the film, proves also to be homicidally indifferent to human life. Ryunosuke is a strange and difficult character. His fighting style is passive, and he remains mostly uninvolved, both with the political turmoil surrounding him, and with his family - from his dying father, who fears the evil in him, to his lover (the wife of an opponent he kills) and his child. Nakadai's performance is magnetic, comparable to Montgomery Clift in it's singleminded, unyielding intensity.

While some of the subplots without Ryunosuke aren't quite as compelling, the ending is memorable and disturbing, and the direction will remind in some ways of Orson Wells.