Things are not going great — globally and locally. Upheaval is in the air, and we’re all waiting to see when it will come down. In 1578, the same could be said for the feuding Samurai lords of Japan, and this unrest serves as the stately, claustrophobic, and dazed context for The Samurai and the Prisoner (黒牢城), the new whodunit from director Kyoshi Kurosawa (Cure; Cloud). It’s a good film, but disappoints in the obvious greatness of its aspirations and premise: what if Sherlock Holmes was a samurai, and what if he was locked in your basement?
“This world at war sickens and disgusts me.”
An adaptation of a best-selling Japanese detective novel of the same name, The Samurai and the Prisoner follows Masahiro Motoki (Tekkonkinkreet; Departures) as Lord Murashige, the ruler of a castle beset as much by superstition and prejudice as he is by the sieging armies of Nobunaga Oda, the tyrant he is attempting to betray. As he awaits word from his allies that they’re coming to help break the siege at his walls and join him in a charge against Oda, a series of mysterious murders, sabotages, and betrayals threaten to destroy morale. In desperation, Motoki’s castle lord will return time and again to a man he has recently betrayed and imprisoned, Masaki Suda’s (The Boy and the Heron; Cloud) Kuroda Kanbei, a samurai known for his wisdom.
Center: Masahiro Motoki as Lord Murashige in THE SAMURAI AND THE PRISONER. Photo courtesy of Janus Films.
This is the story of a man under siege, more so than his castle. Motoki’s Lord Murashige is unsatisfied with the culture he has found himself in. An obvious but unannounced atheist or agnostic, he is mystified by the rivalries between the Christians and Buddhists under his charge. A legendary samurai general, he has begun to shirk the duty to vengeance that serves as the samurai code’s foundation. Is he the real prisoner in this story? When he seeks wisdom from Kanbei, it is guidance of custom that he needs as often as it is investigative insight. Suda’s Kanbei, on the other hand, seems to have wrapped his mind in the code, lest a stray thought enter his mouth without passing through it. He is a true believer, and Murashige a cornered skeptic.
“Nothing makes sense anymore.”
Where their dynamic soars, the film suffers by comparison. The greatest strength of Kurosawa’s previous film, Cloud (2025), was the humor of its satire. The Samurai and the Prisoner has almost none. Instead, the audience, too, is under siege, and this is no Helm’s Deep. This is the 10 years of Troy, or three season changes, to be exact. The film is episodic, not in itself problematic. The war council is worried, an action is taken, a mystery occurs in the aftermath, and the clans under Murashige threaten to break apart, so he turns to Kanbei to solve the mystery. But, when the drama of each mystery is so closely tied to the procedure of the polite society our hero has rejected, it becomes a tall order to ask audiences to engage with them on face value. The rules are either ridiculous, or they aren’t.
L-R: Masahiro Motoki as Lord Murashige and Masaki Suda as Kuroda Kanbei in THE SAMURAI AND THE PRISONER. Photo courtesy of Janus Films.
This is what made Wake Up Dead Man (2025) so compelling, to see an earnest believer and a skeptic unite over the failures of a system and come to a new understanding about each other’s nature. This film, instead, returns again and again to explaining the minutia of procedure and belief through a supporting cast dryly delivering these rules in a hush or a monotone yell. There is no knowing humor, there is simply Sisyphus, pushing against an immovable wall, then going down to the basement to ask why the wall won’t move. In short, while the lead performances are strong, the final 20 minutes stupendous, and the cinematography gorgeous, The Samurai and The Prisoner commits the crime of being frequently boring.
Yuriko Yoshitaka as Chiyoho in THE SAMURAI AND THE PRISONER. Photo courtesy of Janus Films.
It is laudable the way the film tries to unravel original sin and the possibility of redemption for the men who perpetuate systems of violence, but, stylistically, the audience is held at a distance from the violence when we need to be close. The film is precise in its framing and the violence is as matter-of-fact as it is in the real world. And yet, blood almost never sprays and rarely oozes. The reveal of original sin is almost identical to that of The Odyssey (2026), and the comparison cannot help but hurt it as the fall of Troy makes me sick, and the wedge between Oda and Murashige elicits an “is that all?”.
L-R: Masaki Suda as Kuroda Kanbei and Masahiro Motoki as Lord Murashige in THE SAMURAI AND THE PRISONER. Photo courtesy of Janus Films.
This is no accident. Masahiro Motoki’s performance as Lord Murashige is a uniquely modern mirror. When the film is at its best, the words of war delivered, confessed, and declared to his castle lord evoke from him the same feeling of doomscrolling and 24/7 news of the ever-present terrors. His mania at the age he lives in (and perpetuated) is the heart of the film and is worthy of recommendation, but many audience members will lament the plodding pace as much as they will the current state of the world.
In select New York and Los Angeles theaters July 31st, 2026.
Expanding into additional theaters August 7th and August 14th, 2026.
For more information, head to the official Janus Films The Samurai and the Prisoner webpage.
Final Score: 3.5 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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