film

I didn’t realize that Sanjuro meant “thirtysomething”.  That’s probably because the last time that I watched Yojimbo I wasn’t a thirtysomething, or maybe I was only thirty.  It’s been a little while.

I had some time off today, convalescing, and I realized while lounging magnificently on the couch that there are a number of Criterion Collection movies on my Netflix Instant.  The morning was spent learning that old French movies make no sense.  But the afternoon was for an old favorite:  Yojimbo.

(I feel somewhat compelled to point out the irony that while I own this on DVD, it takes Netflix to get me to watch it.  Go figure…)

There’s really not enough that can be said about this film.  Kurosawa and Mifune’s movie of a taciturn ronin turned vigilante stands the test of time with each viewing.  I could spend pages writing about Mifune’s brilliant acting or Kurusawa’s artful eye, but watching the film today I was caught up in the aspects of the film’s vigilanteism.

The two most telling characters in the film are the coffin maker and the innkeeper.  One profits from the town’s violence (the coffin maker), while the other loses.  Sanjuro allies himself with the innkeeper, but at first the innkeeper wants nothing to do with him.  Violence begets violence and all that.  The tipping point comes when Sanjuro rescues the young couple from the grips of one of the crime lords, winning the innkeeper’s undying respect.

And this is what gets me.  Neither of the neutral parties have a vested interest in the town being razed.   “This many bodies, they don’t bother with coffins,” the coffin maker moans (more or less).  And yet the innkeeper gets behind it.  He has lost his business’s livelihood as well (at least for now), but Sanjuro is a hero to him.

This I love.  This infatuation with vigilanteism.  It could easily be said that this theme that I’m riffing on is of justice, but I think the subtext is a little more subtle than that (and sublime!).

It just seems such an American infatuation to me, so I guess it strikes me so much seeing it in a foreign film.  And not just seeing it, but seeing an archetype born so full, beautiful, and fully formed.  (This film will always be remade, and yet the original will always stand.)

When I saw Michael C Hall, of Dexter fame, in San Diego last summer, he told this little anecdote that went like this:

“So we recently sold Dexter in about a dozen countries, and so I’ve been trekking across Europe for the last several months promoting it.  And there’s this thing that I noticed.  I tell people that the show is about a serial killer.  And people kind of say, ‘Oh…’  But then I say that, well he’s a serial killer that only kills other killers.  And Americans always respond with, ‘Oh, okay.  Alright.’  But in Europe they just kind of look at me and say, ‘…yeah, but he’s still killing people.’”

It makes me wonder, I guess.  Are the Japanese as infatuated with this as we are?  I’m a little behind on my Japanese and Asian cinema these days, so I’m not really sure.

I think what’s so remarkable about the character of the innkeeper is how his attitude so captures the inevitable attitude of the audience.  Yes destruction has been wrought, but justice has been done and those who have paid have been the deserving.  What I think nails it is Mifune’s performance.  He never really seems entirely approving of his actions.  His hand almost seems forced, as if there is a duty to be done and he simply has been chosen to carry it out.  I could remind viewers of Mifune’s introduction in the film:  a wandering ronin at a crossroads casts a stick into the air, following in whatever direction it lands.  Sanjuro is but a fatalistic instrument.  The wily innkeeper, though, he gets to throw up the thumbs up or thumbs down.  It would be a completely different film without him.

Anyway.

That’s enough film critique for now.  I am now convinced that as a “thirtysomething” I should adopt Sanjuro as an occasional nickname.  Perhaps if I run into any wily innkeepers they will give me a discounted rate out of deference to such a great film.