“To have never gone to war is something to be proud of.”
– Seiji Akitsu (Kuranosuke Sasaki) in Godzilla Minus One (2023)
There’s this belief that the old ways are better than new. They’re tried, they’re true, and they meet our expectations, whereas anything new brings the potential for the unknown, and that’s more terrifying than any anticipated discomfort. And yet, despite new often being less world-ending than expected, conservativism rises again and again, wielding nostalgia as both weapon and shield against the mysterious. It’s because of this that entertainment the world over tends to shift toward what was again and again as those who were once young yearn for yesteryear. In the United States, we saw this in the popularity of the western and, now, superhero stories. In Japan, they have jidaigeki (Japanese period dramas) of prior periods in which to revisit their cultural history, celebrating all the good without the discord. In his latest project, A Samurai in Time, having its international premiere during Fantasia International Film Festival 2024, writer/director Jun’ichi Yasuda (Kenjû to medamayaki), utilizes time dilation to bring the past to the present, creating an opportunity to explore the values of old and whether they can exist in modernity.
Center: Makiya Yamaguchi as Kosaka Shinzaemon in A SAMURAI IN TIME. Photo courtesy of Fantasia International Film Festival and Third Window Films.
In the Edo period of Japan, four clans are at war with two supporting the Shogun and two trying to bring the shogunate rule to an end. Dispatched with one other ally, samurai Kosaka Shinzaemon (Makiya Yamaguchi) confronts a member of the oppositions in hopes of derailing the whole thing, but as their swords clash and a storm begins (the wind blowing, rain pouring), lighting flashes and Shinzaemon awakes more than century in the future and in an entirely different city, confused and uncertain of how to exist. As luck would have it, he finds himself confused for an extra on a jidaigeki set for a popular television program and winds up as a stuntman. His new job affords a means of utilizing his skills, but when his past and present collide in a work of fiction, Shinzaemon is forced to confront the truth of his situation the only way he knows how.
Billed as a science fiction comedy, A Samurai in Time would more accurately be described as a fish-out-of-water dramedy with brief science fiction elements. In fact, one of the stronger things about Yasuda’s narrative is how it doesn’t go to great lengths to explain itself. The “why” of the transportation isn’t as important as how Shinzaemon reacts and responds to the new situation. Once a vassal to the shogun, trained heavily in the art of combat and the understanding of the rules of the samurai, he now exists in the present where there is no shogun and those rules no longer apply. Rather than abandon all he knows, he does what most do in such a difficult situation, cling to that which is familiar. In this case, when the opportunity strikes to work on the film set, he takes it in order to feel part of a unit again, to engage in combat, and to put his skills to use. When Shinzaemon is told that jidaigeki tales are going out of vogue and he should find something else to explore, he refuses, which could seem like the obstinate choice of someone unable to let go of his past, except the ways Yamaguchi plays it, Shinzaemon makes the choice due to his lack of options. He knows how to fight, he knows how to fall, and he understands the rigors required to do them right. He’s the last real samurai and he’ll use his skills to help those who helped him. It conveys Shinzaemon’s sense of honor and commitment, even if to a lifestyle that’s no longer necessary in the modern age.
Describing Samurai as a comedy isn’t as accurate as one might immediately think. Yes, there’s hilarity in observing Shinzaemon experiencing modern life as compared to what he’s used to, but there’s an edge of drama in nearly every time this happens. The Edo period is from 1603 – 1868 (putting Shinzaemon toward the end of it), so his worldly experience is going to be limited, especially what he’s used to eating, given the lack of industrial expansion. When Shinzaemon eats a rice cake and waxes poetic on its color and texture, Yamaguchi infuses the moment with yearning and a sense of melancholic remembrance. When Shinzaemon eats a slice of cake, he wonders how he could be so deserving of such an exquisite delicacy, Yamaguchi conveying Shinzaemon’s wonder and humility at being able to share in such a treat, surprised to learn that this is something anyone can partake in with tea. These are meant to be silly moments and they are, Yamaguchi reacts with unabashed enthusiasm and surprise, as well as gratefulness, but the melancholy is ever-present as he reconciles what he knows versus what is.
Smartly, Yasuda doesn’t make the film about Shinzaemon coming to terms with his situation, which has been done to death so many times. Instead, Samurai is more often about what happens when our purpose is gone and all that’s left is a facsimile. Given his training, he’s willing to accept changes in gender roles, accept assistance with grace, and put in his fair share. This is a mentality that served him well in the Edo period and does so again on a film set. But because he’s always doing what he’s always done, just with access to sweets, drinks, and differing clothing requirements for his off-hours, Shinzaemon never takes the time to consider what he left behind. Where a lesser writer might’ve come up with some hackneyed manner of infusing their tale with a third act surprise, Yasuda does something that’s not only startling for the audience, but forces Shinzaemon to take a step outside of himself and consider what happened as a result of leaving his shogun (even if by magic). Here, Yasuda challenges the audience and Shinzaemon to think about the value of fighting, the benefit of murder, and the lingering effects on the killer, and beyond. We’ve spent so much time with Shinzaemon as this outsider with a code that we forget he was in the middle of a contest for the future of Japan when he was transported. Thus, the warrior must confront what it means to have fought, to have tried to kill, and whether any of it meant a damned thing in the greater timeline of history. It sure is funny to place a samurai in the modern era and give him a bamboo sword on a set, but all of that silliness is merely a smokescreen to distract the audience (as it is for Shinzaemon) from who he was at the start of the film so it hits hard when the film asks us to consider that no one wins in a war. Doesn’t matter what happens to your honor, to your code, or to your land if it requires you to brutally maintain it. With this question brought to the forefront, being on set takes a whole new meaning and profundity as Shinzaemon works on projects, which, through their inherent meta concepts, force him to consider his entire worldview from a new ethical perspective. It takes crisis of conscience to a new place.
Center: Makiya Yamaguchi as Kosaka Shinzaemon in A SAMURAI IN TIME. Photo courtesy of Fantasia International Film Festival and Third Window Films.
There’s a lot going on in A Samurai in Time that this review skips over in order to preserve Yasuda’s narrative. If you’re the sort who loves meta stories, movies about making movies, jidaigeki tales, or fish-out-of-water dramedies, then you’re going to have a good time with Samurai. Intentional or not, Yasuda presents an experience that is, itself, a bit like a layered treat with a surprise center that changes the texture and flavor of your experience. Come for the way Yamaguchi plays a samurai in the wrong century, stay because Yasuda seems to want you to consider why the old ways are better and why fighting is glorified when all that remains is blood in the dirt and no memory of the lost. Real life isn’t like a movie that, when not in the hands of David Zaslav, has a chance to last in time. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. No reshoots, no additional takes. It’s a statement that really reframes the way audiences view jidaigeki, and potentially for the better.
Screening during Fantasia International Film Festival 2024.
For more information, head to the official Fantasia International Film Festival 2024 A Samurai in Time webpage.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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