Review of Yojimbo (1961) by Timmy S — 27 Aug 2012

At this point in my movie-watching career, Iâ(TM)ve seen only a few movies by Japanese director, Akira Kurosawa: âRan,â? âRashomon,â? and âSeven Samurai.â? Today, I finished watching âYojimbo,â? and have to say that it was the most straightforward viewing experience Iâ(TM)ve had with Kurosawa. In this film about an unnamed ronin who plays two warring factions against each other in a small town, Kurosawa ditches the moralizing of his earlier work in favor of two hours of slicing and dicing that doesnâ(TM)t take itself very seriously.

Toshiro Mifune plays the masterless samurai, who takes on the name of Sanjuro (thirty-year-old) when pressured. Like his portrayal of Kikuchiyo in âSeven Samurai,â? his Sanjuro is an unorthodox warrior: he scratches himself, chews on a toothpick, and is gruffly sarcastic. He does not conform to typical portrayals of samurai, who are usually stoic, taciturn, and concerned solely with honor. Through his double-dealings, Sanjuro is unscrupulous, and willing to kill to save himself, or just to prove how strong he is.

Yet we eventually come to empathize with him because of the humanity he shows later in the film: he saves the lives of an innocent farmerâ(TM)s family, an action that ultimately brings him to his lowest point. Mifuneâ(TM)s performance makes the film more accessible because he has many traits that you might see in a cynical protagonist of a noir film, like Humphrey Bogartâ(TM)s Sam Spade or Gabriel Byrneâ(TM)s Tom Reagan. Despite his infinite capabilities as a warrior, he is an imperfect man whose conscience ultimately brings him over to the good side.

Itâ(TM)s fortunate that we have Sanjuro to root for, because everyone else in the film is slimy and detestable. The leaders of the two sides, Ushitora and Seibei, are opportunistic and greedy. Even when Sanjuro double-crosses them, or intentionally causes them trouble, they still come back to him for help, thinking their money can still buy him out. Ushitora callously beats on his idiot younger brother, and barely reacts after Sanjro slays three of his men. The leader cannot see the consequences of his actions because he has blinders on, focusing only on the bottom line and defeating Seibei. Likewise, Seibei is only concerned with his financial prospects: when his house is being burnt to the ground, he runs out of the smoke, pleading for his enemies to spare his and his sonâ(TM)s life. But what about his wife? He doesnâ(TM)t care, because he doesnâ(TM)t need her to continue his dynasty.

This brings me to the overall treatment of women in the film. I know that it would be stupid to approach the movie with modern sensibilities, considering its age, but in this film, women are either unfeeling harpies or the sex objects of men. Seibeiâ(TM)s wife, Orin, upon receiving her kidnapped son, slaps him across the face and berates him for whining. Additionally, when her husbandâ(TM)s faction is abandoned to certain failure by Sanjuro, she tells them that itâ(TM)s too late to back down, and so they have to fight for their lives. Then there are the women in the brothel managed by Seibei, miserable individuals who are herded like cattle by Orin into their living quarters. Seibei offers them up to Sanjuro as payment, which the ronin thankfully rejects, disgusted.

âYojimbo,â? in spite of its mostly distasteful characters, is still very entertaining to watch. Kurosawa shoots it like a Western, with plenty of wide-angle landscape shots of Sanjuro facing the world on his own. There are surprisingly few action scenes in the film (much fewer than in âSeven Samuraiâ?) but those that are present are exciting, because Kurosawa films them at medium-long distance, so we get to see all of it go down. Come to think of it, given its relative simplicity, âYojimboâ? is a good place to start if you are interested in Kurosawaâ(TM)s body of work.