Photosensitivity Warning: Occasionally black and white films will possess a flicker and its continuous presence within The Betrayal may prove disorienting to photosensitive viewers.
One of the greatest mistakes in humanity is incuriosity, this notion that all you know is all you need to know and anything you don’t or, at the very least, anything that came before you isn’t worth knowing. The reality is that what happened yesterday is always relevant to what happens today, whether or not one accepts it. This is particularly important within the scope of cinematic analysis as the stories of today are only possible because of the stories that came before — their techniques, their visual language, their narrative structure, and, yes, even the narrative itself inspired by or born from something of yesteryear. To ignore the past confines and restricts, requiring one to be as open as possible to the past in order to better understand and appreciate the present. One such title is Tokuzō Tanaka’s 1966 jidaigeki tale The Betrayal (大殺陣 雄呂血), a film that is itself inspired by an older story and one that so very clearly inspires storytellers of today. Thanks to Radiance Films, audiences can explore Tanaka’s gripping action drama on Blu-ray for the first time alongside an hour of bonus materials and a new essay from Alain Silver.
Be advised that an issue was discovered with The Betrayal (LE) and a replacement program has been announced. Details can be found in the official announcement from Radiance Films.
When the brother of the Iwashiro Clan Lord is slain, restitution is insisted upon otherwise great shame will fall upon the Minazuki Clan. Upon learning that his son was part of the murder, the clan leader asks assistant instructor Takuma Kobuse (Raizō Ichikawa) to bear responsibility and, in return, the leader will smooth things over within the year and Kobuse will be allowed to return home and marry the leader’s daughter, Lady Namie (Kaoru Yachigusa), as originally planned. What neither realize is that treachery is afoot which will utilize the Bushido Code to their own immoral aims, carving a path of destruction through both clans that will forever change what it means to be a samurai.
The following review is based on a Blu-ray retail review copy provided by MVD Entertainment Group.
Some context before jumping into both the restoration and home review portions: Tokuzō Tanaka worked within the Japanese studio system beginning in 1948 when he joined the Daiei studio serving as an assistant director for productions that included Rashomon (1950), Ugetsu (1953) and The Crucified Lovers (1954), projects helmed by Akira Kurosawa and Kenji Mizoguchi, respectively. Tanaka would make his directorial debut with 1958’s Bakeneko goyō da and continue working until 1991’s Kumokiri Nizaemon: The Great Bandit. In between, he would release titles The Demon of Mount Oe (1960), The Snow Woman (1968), and Lone Wolf & Child: Assassin on the Road to Hell (1989), to name a few. Incidentally, some of Tanaka’s projects are included in both of Radiance’s Daiei Gothic collections: 2024’s Vol 1 and 2025’s upcoming Vol 2.
According to the Philip Kemp visual essay “The Path to Betrayal,” Tanaka found inspiration for this title, The Betrayal, in the 1925 silent film Orochi (The Serpent), a story about clashing samurai that was centered on class, adapting the core elements to explore the Bushido Code as it relates to ethics. For just under 90 minutes, Tanaka takes the expected and upends it, putting poor Kobuse through the kind of wringer that strips all sense of morality from an average person, which is what makes Ichikawa’s performance of Kobuse so remarkable. Though he gets low enough to lose hope, to lose direction, and even to proclaim disillusion in the Samurai Way, when confronted with opportunities to avail himself of the same debased instincts of his enemies, he pauses and never gives in. This is partially why the film, which takes its time to break Kobuse down, results in such emotional devastation through its raw and chaotic final confrontation. The sequence, which finds Kobuse seemingly cornered by local law enforcement and members of both Iwashiro and Minazuki Clans, is an incredible brawl, Tanaka utilizing a number of different techniques to capture the action — long takes, zoom-like push-ins, and judicious edits — and making the audience feel the intensity as Kobuse remains in near-perpetual motion so as to avoid capture and death. In the same way that Tanaka so clearly borrowed from Orochi, one can see the influence The Betrayal had on more recent titles like 13 Assassins (2010) and Crazy Samurai Musashi (2020) with the former, a Takashi Miike title, borrowing some of the cinematographic style and blocking for his brilliant multi-pronged conflict and with the latter, a Yuji Shimomura title, being both a samurai tale involving one-against-many. There are many reasons why The Betrayal stands out, even almost 60 years since release — from its profound exploration of a society without honor and its seeming statement on ethics as a dwindling remnant of a by-gone era to its depiction of Kobuse, especially in the final fight, as a hero barely clinging-on against outrageous odds. Even if one isn’t totally absorbed by Tanaka’s tale, this climax is one for the ages and needs to be seen to be believed.
This being a first-time Blu-ray release, the restoration absolutely needs to match the reputation of the film. The transfer notes included with the booklet indicate that Kadokawa Corporation created the high-definition transfer that was given to Radiance for this release. There’s no information on the materials used/sourced or their condition. However, the visual and auditory elements are quite clear and clean, devoid of any noticeable wear, degradation, or mishandling. There’s no clipping in the monoaural audio track, the audio timing is perfect, and the visual elements are, for the most part, lovely with nice detail in each frame and a healthy grain. The only obvious issue impacts photosensitive viewers as most of the wide shots (re: white spaces) contain a flickering that’s fairly common with black and white productions and reproductions. This persistent flickering, while not bothersome or distracting to the narrative elements, may cause or trigger issues within photosensitive viewers and those individuals should be aware before getting started that they may want to pregame medicine or otherwise prepare for discomfort before pressing play.
In addition to the HD restoration, Radiance offers the usual refinements of on-disc supplemental materials, a booklet with the limited edition version of the release, and stylish packaging. There are three on-disc featurettes totaling roughly 60 minutes of materials to explore. Identifying them in reverse order, frequent collaborator Tom Mes provides a nine-minute visual essay exploring the four elements (mist, earth, fire, and time) which continually appear in Tanaka’s work. Instead of Mes’s voice, the essay utilizes a combination of text overlaid upon images from various films from Tanaka’s catalogue of projects, guiding viewers through Mes’s theory of correlation across projects with the intention of better understanding the filmmaker’s work through their use of techniques. In the second visual essay, the aforementioned 10-minute “The Path to Betrayal” by Kemp, Kemp himself vocally guides the audience as he connects filmmaker Buntarō Futagawa’s Orochi to The Betrayal. This includes offering context on Orochi as the first ronin film, exploring how the censors of the era influenced everything from the ending of Orochi to its title, how Tanaka adapts the story from exploring class to the perceived ethical failings of Bushido practitioners within The Betrayal, and how even Tanaka’s use of monochrome in 1966 comes across as an homage to Orochi and classic jidaigeki stories. Finally, running roughly 41-minutes is a four-part scene-specific commentary from Mes, which can be viewed as a whole or in part, as Mes speaks over portions of the film discussing the jidaigeki tradition, Tanaka and Daiei studio, the brutal battle in the climax, and the dour significance of the final moments. The essay within the booklet from Silver, “It’s an Ugly Lie,” not only explores the film, but takes into account the historical context of jidaigeki stories, as well as that of lead actor Ichikawa and Tanaka’s respective work. To that end, there’s plenty to learn and explore with this edition, which is quite a surprise given the age of the work and the lesser-known awareness of the film. But, then, that’s what makes Radiance so great — they often pull from the corners of cinema that deserve wider awareness.
For those to whom packaging matters, The Betrayal follows the usual style of past releases: a sturdy plastic case with removable OBI strip containing the release information atop a reversible liner that features new art on the front and original art on the back. The design of the new art is minimal, borrowing from the first fight between Kobuse and the Iwashiro Clan Lord on both the front and back, constructed by frequent collaborator Time Tomorrow. The reverse side containing the original artwork also has a more traditional back with release information and three small still frames from the film. A nice touch for those looking to remove the OBI for a cleaner look on the minimal side or who want something more traditional via the original art.
Bushido stories whether old (The 47 Ronin; Rashomon) or new (Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai; The Blade of the Immortal; Rurouni Kenshin) explore the ways in which ethics are what separate humanity from animals. We can so easily dismantle, to slash and tear, to blame others instead of taking responsibility — children do this before they mature enough to understand that facing responsibility ensures the survival of a group. In this way, The Betrayal is a stark reminder that anyone can proclaim themselves just, but walking the path is so very different. Parallel to this, anyone can say that they love cinema, but to really love it means seeking discovery in order to understand the connections of now to then. One cannot maintain a limited view of cinema, regardless of genre or medium, and be able to articulate why a film matters or fails to succeed in its task. In that vein, once more, by offering a first-time Blu-ray edition of a lesser-known film, Radiance is affording cinephiles a chance to deepen their historical foundation to better grasp the tales of today.
The Betrayal Special Features:
- High-Definition digital transfer by Kadokawa
- Uncompressed mono PCM audio
- Select-scene audio commentary by Japanese film historian Tom Mes (2025, 41 min)
- The Path to Betrayal – Visual essay by film critic Philip Kemp, comparing The Betrayal with the original Orochi [The Serpent] (2025, 10 mins)
- Visual essay on director Tokuzo Tanaka by Tom Mes (2025, 9 mins)
- New English subtitle translation
- Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Time Tomorrow
- Limited edition booklet featuring new writing by Alain Silver
- Limited edition of 3000 copies, presented in full-height Scanavo packaging with removable OBI strip leaving packaging free of certificates and markings
Available on Blu-ray September 16th, 2025.
For more information, head to the official Radiance Films The Betrayal webpage.
To purchase, head to the official MVD Entertainment Group The Betrayal webpage.
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Categories: Films To Watch, Home Release, Home Video, Recommendation, Reviews
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