Matt Cooper Films

A Stray Crow Samurai (2025) by Tomohiko Yamashita

In 1666, a young boy, Jiro (Fuju Kamio), witnesses his uncle (Kippei Shiina) massacre his entire family and household. Fleeing from their village, Jiro returns 14 years later seeking revenge and answers from his relative. When he returns he finds his uncle has become the ‘Stray Crow’ of the title, dressed humbly he spends his time helping the common folk with daily chores. Aided by a shogunate spy, and local inspector Maehara (Soko Wada) who also bears a grudge against Jiro’s uncle, he attempts to enact his revenge. Jiro is also helped by a young woman, Eri (Chihiro Yamamoto), who is one of the town’s most impressive swordfighters.

Adapted from the novel by Ryo Akagami, “Stray Crow” leans into melodrama, with the opening sequence seeing a violent skirmish amongst a thunderstorm before the house is set on fire, and young Jiro fleeing through the rain with the flames roaring behind him. The film is strongly plotted, but the sets feel lifeless and Tomohiko Yamashita’s direction uninspired. There is a sense of theatricality, as though the characters are walking through a samurai-era themepark rather than truly inhabiting this world. The final twist in the tale also begs a number of questions, leading to a rather underwhelming finale.

The central mystery of Jiro’s uncle’s actions is resolved later in the film as a ruse to distract the authorities from a more dangerous truth: that the town has a large secret Christian population. It presents a moral quandary for Jiro, whose uncle murders dozens of people in order to protect many more. While Jiro comes to understand the reasoning of his uncle, viewers may find this logic hard to follow. “Stray Crow” sets up a thrilling revenge tale only to deny you the final moment of catharsis in favour of something more nuanced: coming to terms with the justified actions of a perceived enemy. This underwhelming ending sadly leaves the film without a strong conclusion, failing to deliver on the promise of thrilling action from the opening.

Matt Cooper Films

Silence (1971) by Masahiro Shinoda

With Christianity outlawed in Japan, its adherents are forced to worship in private while those who practice openly are arrested, tortured, and killed. Two Portuguese priests, Rodriguez (David Lampson) and Garupe (Don Kenny), arrive in Japan with the help of Kichijiro (Mako Iwamatsu), with the intention of ministering to those who hold to the Christian faith in secret. They are also looking for their senior, Padre Ferreira who was captured by the authorities some years before. As the persecution of Christians continues, the two foreigners are forced to confront their own faith and morality.

Based on the novel by Shusaku Endo and directed by Masahiro Shinoda, is a sombre look at the often troubled relationship between religion and society that resonates as keenly today as in the period-setting of the story. The plot confronts us with questions of whether it is better to cling to faith or to alleviate people’s earthly suffering; and details the conflict between religious authorities and secular powers. Rodriguez insists on remaining loyal to the church in the face while troubled back the lack of divine intervention; while the Japanese are attempting to unite the country around the pre-existing religious faiths of the land. The film is well-paced as we follow the Portuguese missionaries, and witness the repeated attacks on their congregation. There is tension throughout between the Christian and non-Christian factions that reflects the ongoing divides in society brought about by belief. David Lampson gives a fantastic performance as the protagonist Rodriguez, albeit struggling with the heavy Japanese dialogue occassionally, as the film becomes almost a trial or temptation narrative for him, with repeated opportunities for him to renounce his faith in order to save others.

Religion continues to play a major role in many peoples lives, no less divisive than it was in the 17th Century. “Silence” gives us a stark look at the lives of believers who remain commited to these ideologies, attempting to reassure themselves that their actions are meaningful and righteous in the face of the contrary evidence. We also see the torment that followers of faith endure when they believe they have betrayed their religion, most keenly in the character of Kichijiro, who believes he is an amoral individual for selling out his fellow Christians in order to save himself. The film’s shocking final moments confront us with troubling implications for both the characters and wider humanity. A superb film with a timeless moral conundrum at its heart; worth watching for the thrilling plot and performances.

Matt Cooper Films

Thermae Romae (2012) by Hideki Takeuchi

In ancient Rome, architect Lucius (Hiroshi Abe) is struggling to come up with new ideas for the design of bathhouses. While bathing he is mysteriously transported to a modern Japanese bathhouse and on his return is able to implement the various discoveries he made, believing them to be the work of a bizarre, as-yet-undiscovered ‘flat-faced’ tribe. Through repeated trips through time Lucius becomes a celebrated bathhouse designer, gaining the attention of the Emperor Hadrian (Masachika Ichimura) who tasks him with making an Imperial baths to rival anything seen before. Lucius’s journeys to the future coincide with the presence of manga artist Mami (Aya Ueto), who begins studying ancient Roman history and Latin in order to understand the peculiar visitor.

Based on a manga by Mari Yamazaki and directed by Hideki Takeuchi, “Thermae Romae” is a fantastical comedy, celebrating the Japanese love of onsen and bathhouse culture. The first half of the film moves at a brisk pace, with fish-out-of-water humour as Lucius attempts to understand where he is and why the strange people he meets have so many novel inventions in their baths. These early scenes are the most enjoyable, with great comedic acting from Abe and Ueto. There is a thin plot in the second half, involving the succession to the Roman Imperial Throne, and Lucius and Mami’s relationship. The film does slow down, but still has plenty of jokes, largely involving the old group of men who frequent Mami’s mother’s rural bathhouse. The Ancient Rome sets are impressive, giving a sense of scale and grandeur, and providing an amusing comparison to the more quotidian Japanese scenes. The film’s score features classical music and opera, again adding to the sense of a historical epic juxtaposed with contemporary farce.

An ode to relaxation, “Thermae Romae” is an enjoyable drama with a fun cast who do a great job with the material, capturing the surprise and disbelief at their situations. The film’s focus on bathing creates a calming atmosphere and despite the occasional drama the film remains enjoyably inoffensive. There is relatively little in terms of character development, but the film does attempt to deliver a message around the power of humanity for creativity and invention, and the importance of co-operation. An enterataining story with broad appeal.

Matt Cooper Anime, Films

Miss Hokusai (2015) by Keiichi Hara

The painter Hokusai has been immortalised, with his most famous work “The Great Wave off Kanagawa” adorning every concievable form of souvenir and representing arguably the most famous work of Japanese art. “Miss Hokusai” tells the story of his lesser-known daughter, O-Ei (Anne Watanabe) who lives in the shadow of her father Tetsuzo (Yutaka Matsushige), later named Hokusai. O-Ei works alongside her father and his apprentice Zenjiro (Gaku Hamada), separate from her mother and blind younger sister O-Nao (Shion Shimizu). Equally talented, but less highly regarded, O-Ei often helps finish off her father’s works, learning from the master artist.

Set in Edo period Japan, the film offers a great insight into the lives of people at the time, as we see the various professions crossing the wide bridge of the city; are introduced to aspects of the culture such as the Yoshiwara brothels and Kabuki theatre. The film blends this attention to period details with more fantastical elements, showing the creativity and imagination of our protagonists. It is a world alive with ghosts and spirits; mundanity tinged with magic. The music by Harumi Fuki and Yo Tsuji blends traditional instruments and melodies with bursts of modern pop, giving modern audiences a sense of how revolutionary the times must have seemed to those living through them. Being a historical account the film eschews plot in favour of episodic storytelling: with romantic, comedic, and tragic moments, particularly in relation to the fate of O-Ei’s younger sister, assembled to create an impression of the character’s numerous influences and experiences.

“Miss Hokusai” captures the essence of the period, showcasing a flowering of arts and culture, as well as Japan’s blend of the earthly and the ethereal. Scenes of O-Ei’s fumbling sexual adventures with a cross-dressing prostitute, sit alongside transcendent sequences of spiritual hands and dragon talons tearing through the clouds. It speaks to the human experience of living between these twin aspects of being, worldy desires and otherworldly dreams. For anyone interested in life at that time, “Miss Hokusai” offers a window into the past, with a character that you are happy to have as a guide.

Matt Cooper Films

Ran (1985) by Akira Kurosawa

Kurosawa relocates the drama of Shakespeare’s “King Lear” to feudal era Japan in this epic of betrayed loyalties and warring sons. Aging lord Hidetora (Tatsuya Nakadai) decides to resign his power to his eldest son, Taro (Akira Terao), gifting him the largest of his castles. His second son, Jiro (Jinpachi Nezu), is also to recieve a castle and lands, along with his youngest Saburo (Daisuke Ryu). While Taro and Jiro gracefully accept, Saburo opposes the plan, suggesting his father has lost his mind. He is exiled for his brazen honesty along with Tango (Masayuki Yui), a loyal retainer who agrees with Saburo. It is not long before Hidetora realizes his error, as his eldest sons banish him from their castles, flexing their newly granted authority. Hidetora finds himself wandering alone with his jester Kyoami (Peter), reluctant to call on his youngest son for help.

Akira Kurosawa is highly-regarded as the master of the historical action genre, with films such as “Seven Samurai” and “Yojimbo”. In “Ran” we see his directorial skill on full display with stunning vistas and set-pieces at every turn. The landscapes are beautifully shot and are a supporting character, reflecting the temperaments of the main cast. Kurosawa creates compositions that are works of art in their own right: characters backlit by the sunset or standing amongst wind-blown grass; soldiers marshalled in distinctive colours that reflect their lord’s personalities; and every facet of human emotion depicted powerfully through action and expression. The magnificent cast give theatrical performances, often over-emphasizing their reactions, but it works for the large-scale drama that is unfolding. The score by Toru Takemitsu is utilised efficiently, growing in intensity at moments of high tension, or drums bolstering the troops as they ride to battle. It is equally notable in its absence, with scenes played out in silence gaining in impact.

“Ran” feels like a very personal film for Kurosawa. Following his hey-day in the black-and-white film era, it seems as though he is out to prove himself by crafting a masterpiece on an epic scale. We see in Hidetora a man who is at the end of his career, wishing to retire in peace, and concerned for his legacy after misplacing his trust in his sons. Throughout the film, set in the late samurai period, we see guns viciously cutting down mounted samurai and archers, a nod to the notion that the march of progress can be a brutal affair, with older generations soon forgotten. No doubt Kurosawa was similiarly concerned with his formidable reputation being ignored as he entered the later stage of his career, and considering what his legacy would be. Another of the film’s central themes, one that was also close to Kurosawa’s heart, is the propensity to violence of mankind, and generational violence. The tragedy of Hidetora is that he is undone by his son’s in precisely the cruel, calculating way he dealt with his own foes. Their inheritance from him in cold, merciless, martial thinking, leads directly to his downfall. There are nods to religion, but not in an overbearing way, suggesting that there is an alternative peaceful path that people might take, averting the catastrophe of endless war. The idea of karma is also strong in the film, with Hidetora’s past actions catching up with him in his later years. One by one he comes into contact with those he has wronged in the past. Taro’s wife, Kaede (Mieko Harada), is herself the victim of one of his conquests; as is Jiro’s wife, Sue (Yoshiko Miyazaki), and her brother Tsurumaru (Mansai Nomura). He is haunted by the memory of what he has visited on others, even as the consequences of his actions begin to overwhelm him. A sublime film showing Kurosawa’s skill at dramatic storytelling and action set-pieces, this timeless classic secures his legacy for many generations to come.