Ten to Chi to

I had the opportunity to be an extra in this movie. It was an incredible way to spend the summer of 1989. Hours of sitting on a horse in the hot Alberta sun in the river valley near Morley. Most of the horses that were used came from the Morley Indian reservation and some were barely broken in at all. The scenery was as good as it gets with the Rocky Mountains as a backdrop and the Bow River flowing nearby. The food provided could have been a lot better but that was a minor thing compared to the magnitude of this production. Watching it for the first time on the big screen was phenomenal. It's hard to believe that it would be such a magnificent movie when you're hot, sweating and dusty in 90 degree temperatures, and that's basically all you see for the whole summer. What a glorious time it was!! I've been wanting to buy a copy for myself and never even thought of Ebay until seeing the other posts on here. Us extras should have a reunion sometime!!

This movie has been one that I've been searching for years. It has left that kind of impression on me. The story and historical value of this movie has allowed me to visualize a better understanding of those feudal times.

The only problem is that I'm still searching to obtain a copy. If you have any ideas where to look, it would be greatly appreciated.

It is difficult to imagine a more visually stunning film than this one. The landscapes and skies are beyond beauty, and the massive battle scenes dwarf anything I've ever seen, even perhaps Bondarchuk's "War and Peace." This is one of the first films I've seen that conveys a believable sense of thousands (rather than hundreds or dozens) of soldiers in simultaneous combat, and the color-coded armies are both amazing to consider as fighting entities and astonishing to watch as masses of moving color and light. The final half hour is one of the most amazing feats of logistics and color ever put to film. Now if only there were a story worth following. Basically, there are two armies and the two armies fight or pursue each other. There is a minor attempt at personalizing the leaders of each army, but it all seems merely a formality, and a very unsuccessful one. There are no characters such as found in the great war movies, either in small films like "A Walk in the Sun" and "Nobi" ("Fires on the Plain") or in epics like "Ran" or "The Longest Day" or "Lawrence of Arabia." No, we're just told (I repeat told; I refer to the English-narrated version) that these people have enmity one for the other and that there is reason for battle. Then we watch the battles (or more often, the planning sessions). When battle comes, it is spectacular beyond expectation. But in the end, no one, not even the filmmakers it seems, cares who won or whether anyone did.

I happened to get a chance to see Ten To Chi To or Heaven And Earth, as we knew it here, on the big screen when it debuted in Calgary in the spring of 1990. After having worked many long hours on the movie for a good part of the late summer in 1989 as one of the 2000 Samurai infantry extras, it was amazing to see the finished product on the big screen. As mentioned in one of the earlier reviews, for fans of the Samurai movie genre, this is a must see. The large battle scenes are spectacular.

Trivia note. Actor Ken Watanabe was originally cast as one of the lead actors in Heaven and Earth. While filming Ken was diagnosed with acute myelogenic leukemia, a life-threatening disease of the bone marrow, that put an end to his part in the movie. Ken had to return to Japan for treatment that kept him away acting for a few years. He came back in 1994 only to have a relapse, but once again battled back. Ken has been nominated for Best Actor in a supporting role at this year's Academy Awards for his outstanding performance as Katsumoto in The Last Samurai. I wish him all the best!

BTW, I was one of a handful of extras who worked all through the filming from July to early Sepetebmber 1989, here in Alberta. During the last few days of filming there was only about 50 or so of us left. On the final day, final scene, a Saturday afternoon IIRC, some production people came around and handed each of us a cold beer. Director Haruki Kadokawa came out and toasted us. He smiled and said, "Very long. Very hard. Thank you!"

Sometimes it feels like a disadvantage to watch as many movies as I do, and as huge a variety. I've watched revered jidaigeki classics from the likes of Kurosawa Akira and Kobayashi Masaki; I've watched middling U. S. action flicks and B-movies, including some that to one degree or another play loosely and indifferently with aesthetics lifted from Japan or China. Maybe it has something to do with the production having filmed in Canada, and I double and triple-checked to try to be sure that I wasn't missing some crucial detail - but in watching this 1990 period piece, frankly I discern as many similarities with the latter as with the former. There is a jarring discrepancy between those facets that unquestionably reflect earnest mindful care, and those that seem to have received the benefit of notably less attention or resources. The sum total is still enjoyable in some measure, but there's a clash of styles and quality throughout the whole runtime that makes me feel as if I were watching two different versions of the same film smashed together into one. It's kind of unpleasant and uncomfortable, and not in a manner that has anything to do with the ugliness of war as depicted herein. I'm glad that I watched, but how much is that really saying?

The foremost visuals and ardor of the production unmistakably belong to the cinema of filmmaker Kadokawa Haruki and his countrymen, and there was seemingly no expense spared. Epic battle scenes are rendered with countless horses and extras, thousands of props, weapons, and suits of armor, and the magnificence of enormous battlefields. The stunts, effects, choreography, and otherwise action sequences are outstanding and invigorating, and one wishes that we saw still more of them. This is to say nothing, broadly, of the terrific production design and art direction. The sets are utterly fantastic, and likewise the costume design, hair, and makeup. The filming locations are plainly gorgeous. At its best Kadokawa's direction is impeccable in orchestrating shots and scenes, and the cinematography is unfailingly smart, whether we're watching stark violence unfold or a quiet scene of dialogue between two characters. 'Heaven and Earth' is beautifully shot, and it's a sight for sore eyes that in its fundamental presentation fits right in with esteemed classics like Kurosawa's epics 'Ran,' or 'Kagemusha.'

On the other hand, this Japanese picture, that was filmed in the Japanese language, includes narration in English from a man whose timbre recalls Peter Falk narrating 'The Princess Bride,' but with a less sincere diction. The music is defined largely by so-so MIDI themes produced on a keyboard that would feel more at home in a low-grade sci-fi flick, or maybe a PC videogame from the early to mid-90s, and the drama and thrills are sadly undercut to a considerable extent. The editing and sequencing come off as a little brusque and sometimes sloppy, a far cry from the meticulous craftsmanship we expect based on jidaigeki from the previous several decades. Even if we make allowances for weak translation in subtitles to convey information in a different language, every now and again the dialogue comes off as weirdly oversimplified and dull, and the same verbiage could be applied to the scene writing. Actually, I'm not so impressed with the screenplay at all; Kadokawa, Kamata Toshio, Keynji Chogoro, and Yoshiwara Isao give us a feature that majorly emphasizes its battles, and the otherwise grandeur of the visuals, while oddly skimping on the plot that provides context for what we're watching. Case in point, Usami is treated so lightly in the script that his actions relative to Kagetora pretty much seem to come out of nowhere, and there is absolutely no weight behind what happens between the two men. In another example, a supporting character that is important to a primary one dies off-screen, but since they were barely part of the tale to begin with, their loss means nothing to the audience. The story requires these events to transpire, and so they do, but the incidence holds no water.

Further complicating matters, though Kadokawa arranges scenes in general, battle scenes particularly, and wide, sweeping vistas with a mind for that visual splendor, in the smaller, more specific instances of guiding his cast and informing the camerawork, to be honest his work comes across as halfhearted and middling. The final scene between Usami and Kagetora is executed with sloth and apparent hesitance that has nothing to do with the emotions the figures may be feeling and everything to do with how actors Enoki Takaaki and Watase Tsunehiko are moving and expressing themselves. Later, as the camera slowly revolves around Enoki in a somber moment, it is with a speed that undercuts the drama of the beat. The action sequences are truly phenomenal, and the overall excellence of the the sights to greet us no less so in a production that was accordingly massively expensive by any prior standards of the Japanese industry. So why does it seem as if the title was shortchanged with regards to the minutiae that help to bring the best value to bear? Did those involved have a very limited skill set that resulted in this dichotomy? Was the budget so pointedly devoted to the battles and visuals that all other elements were bereft, and the contributors had to make do? In one fashion or another, there are two halves that comprise the whole that is 'Heaven and Earth,' and they are not equal, identical halves.

For what it does well I want to like this far, far more than I do; I cannot overstate how superb the battle sequences are, likely among the very, very best that have ever been produced in the medium. For where it strangely falls short, sacrificing other key aspects to hyper-focus on the battles and visuals, I'm aghast, and flummoxed. The disparity is glaring, and the movie in its entirety is gravely diminished in turn. Had all components been treated with equal skill, intelligence, and care, 'Heaven and Earth' would surely be hailed as one of the greatest pictures ever made; having not received the benefit of labor applied equally across the board, my favor drops precipitously. For as great as those battles and visuals are, it's not as if we can't get similar ardor elsewhere. The number of reasons there are to watch this instead of anything else are few. I do like this feature, but I also can't help wondering if I'm being to kind in my assessment. Do check it out, by all means, and for the especial parts that I've noted - but be well aware that 'Heaven and Earth' is a title split in two, and it is in turn both stupendous and tiresome.