Incident At Blood Pass (aka Machibuse) (1970)

As the 1960s closed, The Japanese film industry was in shambles. American films had already begun to dominate the Japanese box office, and less and less people were seeing locally made productions. The studios. desperate to drum up interest, began packing their films full of stars to bring in crowds, a technique that was a short term solution but burned audiences out in the long rum. Two of the biggest stars of the time, particularly in regards to Samurai films, were Toshirô Mifune who became a worldwide star from the success of Akira Kurosawa's films like Yojimbo and The Seven Samurai, and Shintarô Katsu, the star of the Zatôichi films (as well as the producer of the Lone Wolf and Cub series), and combining their own particular talents seemed like a tremendous opportunity to draw in major crowds. In fact, in 1970 these two actors starred together twice; first in Zatôichi to Yôjinbô (Zatôichi Meets Yojimbo) which was produced by Katsu and then in Machibuse (Incident At Blood Pass) which was produced by Mifune.

And Mifune and Katsu were not the only draws. Director Hiroshi Inagaki had worked with Mifune before on his famous Samurai Trilogy (for which he won the best Foreign Film Oscar), and female lead Ruriko Asaoka was a major star at the time, starring in 121 films between 1955 and 1967. The supporting players, including Yûjirô Ishihara (Washi to taka, Man Who Causes a Storm) and Kinnosuke Nakamura (who later would play Ogami Itto in the Lone Wolf And Cub television series) were also name actors, making this truly a star studded film. With a pedigree this impressive, it would be expected that audiences would have high expectations.

Mifune plays an obvious variation on his Yojimbo ("bodyguard") character from the Kurosawa films, a nameless Ronin roving from city to city. After revealing a cryptic clue from his employer, he travels to Sanshuu pass where he's told "something" will occur if he waits there. On his way, he rescues Okuni (Ruriko Asaoka) from her abusive husband and agrees to let her accompany him, eventually dropping her at the Minoya Inn where she quickly finds employment. There they meet an array of characters; the young gambler Yataro (Yûjirô Ishihara), the passionate policeman Ibuki (Kinnosuke Nakamura), a group of drummers, some pissed off gangsters, and Gentetsu (Shintarô Katsu), a former doctor who lives in a barn behind the inn. When the Ronin discovers his true purpose, the robbery of Shogunate gold, his loyalties are soon tested as characters are crossed and double-crossed before the final, bloody climax.

Taking place almost entirely on the snowy banks by the inn, Incident At Blood Pass provides some fairly unique visuals, particularly during some of the swordplay featured in the later parts of the film. But this wouldn't be mistaken for an action film, as instead the vast majority takes place inside the inn as we witness the development of the various relationships between the characters. In fact, much of the film resembles a play more than a Samurai epic, and even an experienced viewer can be forgiven for getting a little impatient waiting for some significant action to occur over its nearly two hour run-time. The film's greatest flaw is that it simply doesn't tell a very interesting story, and no amount of onscreen or behind-the-scenes talent can really save a boring film.

But they certainly try. Mifune is on familiar ground playing a resourceful Ronin, and he's fun to watch whether verbally sparring with Yataro, barely fighting off the advances of Okuni, or when he finally gets some face (and, too briefly, sword) time with Gentetsu. After his working relationship with Kurosawa ended, Mifune went on to make films of varying quality, but he's obviously working hard here. However, it's Shintarô Katsu who really bares his teeth playing a character very different than his blind masseuse and obviously relishing the opportunity to be such an unlikeable bastard. His sword skills are as impressive as ever, and he even manages to wring some surprising sympathy by the film's end (though, not as much as the filmmakers seem to think, as he's still rather despicable).

While all of the supporting players do a good job (though Kinnosuke Nakamura hams it up a little as Ibuki), they are all saddled with various back-stories which serve to slow the pace rather than distinguish their characters. When Yataro's history is revealed (along with his relationship with one of the other characters in the inn), it seems shoehorned in to give his character a little more to do. This unfortunate padding leads to the film's big reveal not occurring till quite late in the movie, leaving the final confrontation feeling rushed and confusing. In all, the whole thing feels more like a pilot for a television series featuring Mifune's Ronin traveling from town to town rather than a complete work.

Surprisingly, it's also not a very attractive film. Inagaki may not deserve blame, as this is quite a weak DVD transfer, but the scenery feels dull and muted with some impressive scenery shots being the only break from the rather muddy surroundings of the inn. There are some terrific scenes, particularly one where the Ronin and Yataro save Ibuki from being murdered by gangsters posing as officers, but things just drag on too long to sustain interest. As mentioned, the later scenes contain some impressive swordplay, though an early fistfight between Mifune and Yataro is embarrassing.

The ANIMEIGO DVD of Incident At Blood Pass is a bit of a disappointment compared to many of the companies other releases of Samurai films. The film is presented in its original 2.35:1 aspect ratio, but the image is soft and dull. It's certainly watchable, but a better transfer may have shown more respect for Inagaki's compositions. Luckily, the film sounds quite good, and the soundtrack by Masaru Satô (Yojimbo) is striking and memorable. Subtitles are available in both Full and Limited english, and seem to be quite well translated.

Special features are limited, though there are trailers for Incident At Blood Pass, Samurai Assassin (also starring Mifune), Lone Wolf and Cub - White Heaven In Hell, Zatoichi the Outlaw, Zatoichi Meets The One-Armed Swordsman (with Jimmy Wang Yu) and Lady Snowblood. Also included are brief filmographies, character biographies and some impressive Program Notes which explains some of the historical background of the film. However, these 48(!) pages of notes can be a little difficult to read, so i'd recommend just checking them out on the Animeigo website.

Occasionally interesting but frequently uneventful, Incident At Blood Pass wastes a great cast on a talky script that provides little in the way of interesting plot developments. The scenes with Mifune and Katsu facing off are electric, but the climax fizzles out and is confusing, and the picture never manages to build up any momentum. Disappointing considering the talent involved.

Tenchu! (Hitokiri) (1969)

Hideo Gosha’s second release of 1969 is perhaps on par with the excellent Goyokin, and seems to work in tandem with the earlier film to act as a criticism of the samurai way of life. The film is very closely centered on Shintaro Katsu, who plays Okada Izo. This character will be familiar to anyone who watched Takeshi Miike’s IZO, a movie about the same character existing throughout time, and acting not as a person, but as a symbol of the ever-present violence of the system…or something. Gosha’s film, on the other hand, is a character study of the assassin during his lifetime, and Katsu brings a depth of humanity to the character entirely missing from Miike’s later work.


We first meet Izo as an out of work and miserable ronin. Izo is so down on his luck that he even offers to sell his armour, but finds that the price simply isn’t worth it. In desperation, he turns to Hampeita Takechi, played by Gosha’s long-time collaborator Tatsuya Nakadai. Takechi is the head of the Tosa Clan, a group of Loyalists intent on overthrowing the Shogunate and returning the Emperor to power. Takechi offers Izo a job as an assassin, and the rumpled and pathetic Izo accepts. Flashing forward, the viewer discovers that Izo has rapidly gained in power and rank, and is known as a nearly unstoppable killer.

Indeed, Izo is shown to be a victim of his success. As he gains more and more fame for his skills as a killer, he becomes more and more enamoured with himself. He is often drunk, and always loud and abrasive. Izo likes nothing more than his fame, and takes any compliment from Takechi like a dog accepting a bone. His rise to decadence makes up a large portion of the first part of the film, but its accompanied by the sense, in the viewer, that it cannot last.


And, of course, it cannot. Eventually, Izo angers Takechi, and when he’s rebuked he feels that he’s become too important to follow Takechi’s orders. He soon discovers, though, that his great renown as a killer offers him no real job opportunities, and that only outcome of turning on his master is the possibility that he’ll return to where the viewer first found him--alone and penniless, on the verge of starvation.

Tenchu! is more infamous than it is famous, due largely to the presence of the poet and playwright Yukio Mishima, in the role of Shimbei Tanaka, another “unstoppable” assassin. In an eerie foreshadowing of things to come, a scene in Tenchu! Depicts Shimbei Tanaka committing seppuku, only a year before the poet himself did the real thing.


While Tenchu! Certainly offers its fair share of action, most of this is frontloaded into the first half of the film. The rest painstakingly details the fall of Okada Izo. Here, Katsu is at his best. His deep, expressive eyes are able to make plain the depths of the anguish and turmoil Izo feels inside. The ruthless samurai not only has to come to terms with his own place in the world, but he is soon forced to confront and interrogate the very notions of the samurai way of life, of clan loyalty and fealty, and even of the use of violence itself. Many viewers may find this second half of the film far less entertaining than the first, but it is this portion of the film that truly separates it from the flock of samurai films that were prevalent at the time. The emotional depth of the film is no doubt due to its writer, Shinobu Hashimoto, whose writing credits include Kurosawa’s The Seven Samurai and Throne of Blood, as well as Kobayashi’s Harakiri and Samurai Rebellion.

Currently, there’s no North America release of Tenchu!, as is the case with most of Gosha’s films. The French release, by Wild Side, is a great, two DVD offering, featuring great video quality. Oddly, though, despite being a two-disc set, it only offers a handful of extras, such as interviews and a photo gallery. The original trailer seems to have been lost. Unfortunately, there are no English subs, so if you want to own a copy of the DVD, be prepared to wait (or starting learning French).


It’s crazy to think that Gosha was able to release both Goyokin and Tenchu! in the same year. In some circles, both films are considered classics of the genre. Don’t let that fool you, though; both are radically different films. While Goyokin is an exciting action/adventure, Tenchu! is a more cold and introspective film. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t contain some great action--it does--but if that’s what you’re looking for, Tenchu! might not be for you. Here’s hoping an English language release is on the way.

Mute Samurai - Vol 1 (1973)

Kiichi Hogan has a reason to be angry: as a young man, an expert fencer named Gonzales slaughtered his family and slit his throat, leaving him mute. 18 years later, Hogan (Wakayama Tomisaburo) is a bounty hunter, searching all over Japan for the devilish Spaniard. It’s a pretty standard, yet classic set up for a revenge story, one that has the potential for an interesting and varied tale.

Outside of a few Kurosawa features, the most popular samurai (or, more specifically, chambara) films in the West certainly seem to be either the Lone Wolf and Cub or Zatoichi film series. The former stars Wakayama, while the majority of the films in the series are directed by Kenji Misumi; the latter stars Shintaro Katsu (Wakayama’s brother), one of Japan’s biggest names. So, fans of samurai films should be delighted to learn that Misumi, Wakayama, and Katsu (along with genre director Hideo Gosha) are all involved in Mute Samurai in one way or another.


The first episode of the series, “The Man Who Lost His Ability To Sing,” introduces the character of Hogan, our hero for the duration. There’s a notable early appearance by Katsu--who also directs--but most of the episode is dominated by Wakayama. We learn about Hogan’s past, and it isn’t long before he’s fallen in with a bad crowd, led by a rogue Catholic priest. The priest thinks he can use Hogan’s sword skills, and lets the bounty hunter in on his drug-trafficking conspiracy. Bad idea. The virtuous Hogan wants none of it. We get to see a display of Wakayama’s familiar and excellent swordplay when Hogan manages to kill every last one of those evil doers.

Episode two, “A Silent Prayer For a Little Boy,” properly introduces the character of ‘Manji,’ played by Katsu in larger, more fleshed-out performance. Manji (the word for the Buddhist swastika) is a mysterious warrior on the side of justice, and that, combined with the fact that it’s Zatoichi himself, should make the character pretty cool. Unfortunately, they put this on him:

“A Silent Prayer For a Little Boy” finds Hogan confronting some foreigners head-on. These Spaniards are up to no good, and Hogan hopes he can find Gonzales among them. Unfortunately, the nefarious fencer is long gone, though Hogan is able to do some good. Some of the local police are involved with the evil foreigners, and these traitors get mowed down in an onslaught of Spanish firepower at the end. Hogan survives, and is able to help a little boy who lost his father in the process.

It’s hard to judge Mute Samurai, or any TV show, from its first two episodes. Since I’ve never seen any other Japanese TV shows from the 70s, I don’t really have anything to compare it to. It is similar, in tone, to the Lone Wolf and Cub series, and obviously Wakayama’s presence makes the comparison evident. The violence, of course, isn’t as explosive or bloody as in that film series, since this is meant for television, and the video quality, likewise, is much less vibrant. The thing that sticks out the most about the series, though, is the rear view mirror in Hogan’s hat:

Up until that, the show seems fairly serious. The rear view mirror really throws me for a loop.

What strikes me, in the first two episodes of Mute Samurai, is the show’s anti-foreigner slant. This isn’t just due to the fact that Gonzales, the absent villain of the show, is Spanish--it’s in the fact that the villain of the first episode is a Catholic priest, and in the focus on the guns that are used to shoot down the samurai at the end of episode two. A nostalgic or even protectionist point of view is fairly common in the samurai genre, but in these early episodes Mute Samurai seems to be hinting at some outright jingoism. Still, time and distance take the edge off of it, making it seem quaint or campy.

Since Mute Samurai doesn’t have an official release in North America, it’s up to the hard core samurai fans to track it down. If the names Wakayama, Katsu, Misumi, and Gosha mean anything to you (and they should!) then you’re going to want to track this down, if only for curiosity’s sake. I found it a bit of a let-down in the action department, but I think as the series finds its footing there’s the potential to do better.