Matt Cooper Films

The Legend and Butterfly (2023) by Keishi Otomo

A historical epic detailing the relationship between Nobunaga Oda (Takuya Kimura) and his wife Nohime (Haruka Ayase). Oda is a figure who looms large over Japan’s warring states period, one of the most recognizable names of the time with a reputation as a ferocious military commander. “The Legend and Butterfly” begins with the lord as a young man; immature, inexperienced, and spoiled by his position. He is married to the daughter of a neighbouring lord in an attempt to broker a truce between their two regions. The woman, Nohime, is more than a match for the precocious young man; fiercely intelligent and beautiful there is a suggestion she has been sent there as an assassin by her father. Despite a mutual distrust and even hatred between the two, as the years go by they learn to work together and come to love one another, with Oda’s victories in part due to the tactical brilliance of Nohime. The film spans several decades and documents Oda’s rise to great power, becoming the recognizable warlord of historical record.

Little is known of Nohime and Nobunaga Oda’s relationship and writer Ryota Kosawa therefore takes certain liberties with their story. It is exciting to see the characterisations of these historical figures and both Takuya Kimura and Haruka Ayase give moving performances with great chemistry together. It is far from a traditional love story, even with the film-maker’s attempts to make things more romantic and fitting to modern sensibilities. Instead the film retains a sense of reality in showing that these matches were often more political alliances than passionate affairs. The fantastic production value is evidenced in everything from the large casts and sets, the colourful costumes that bring the period to vivid life, and the occasional action sequences (director Keishi Otomo previously worked on the Rurouni Kenshin series and his skill as an action director shows here). Naoki Sato’s score further adds to this sense of a lavish epic. The main failing of the film is in a lack of a unifying narrative; told over such a long period it often feels more like a beautifully rendered docu-drama than a love-story or historical epic. There are many spectacular sequences, but they feel a little disjointed. The story of Oda and Nohime is interesting, but the subtlety of their relationship and adherence to historical accuracy (they are often apart and moments of romance between them are sparse) may leave some viewers cold, especially if you are expecting something more melodramatic. The second strand to the story, that of Oda’s transformation from an inept young lord to the fearsome and merciless commander, is likewise interesting, but often omits the why and how of him becoming this dispassionate leader. In attempting to balance these two strands the film falls somewhere between an out-and-out romance and historical action film. Early on we see a hint that perhaps the relationship between the two will have some relevance to how his military career developed, but this connection becomes more tenuous as the film progresses.


“The Legend and Butterfly” is an impressive historical epic, with incredible set-piece moments and two standout performances from its leads. The tragedy of both characters seems to be the time in which they were born. Both express an interest in foreign musicians they see at a fair, and in a dream sequence towards the end of the film, Oda imagines a possible alternate future for the two where they set sail from Japan to travel together as a peaceful, loving couple. In other ages this might have been possible, but their fates were set by being born in a militaristic society that prided prowess in battle above all else and often denigrated women to the role of child-bearers. The unconventional story, awkwardly balancing facts with a more romanticised fiction, can seem strange at times, but there is so much to enjoy here, from the fantastic sets and costumes, excellently choreographed fight-sequences, and two stand-out performances from the charismatic leads.

Matt Cooper Films

Throne of Blood (1957) by Akira Kurosawa

Based on Shakespeare’s Macbeth, “Throne of Blood” tells the story of Washizu, a captain of the lord of Cobweb Castle, and his ill-fated supplanting of his former master. After helping to put down a traitorous revolt by a rebel named Fujimaki, Washizu (Toshiro Mifune) and fellow captain Miki (Minoru Chiaki), are returning to Cobweb Castle to receive their reward for valiant action in the field. On the way through a nearby forest they meet a spectral figure (Chieko Naniwa), who foretells that they will both have great futures. Washizu is told he will rise, first to the head of north mansion (home of the traitor Fujimaki), and then to Lord of Cobweb Castle, while Miki’s son will eventually take that title. They both laugh, but when they arrive at the castle, they are both promoted to the positions promised them by the spirit. Washizu starts to believe the prophecy and is led to heinous acts, including killing his lord Tsuzuki (Yoichi Tachikawa), supported by his wife Asaji (Isuzu Yamada), in order to secure the position that was promised him and later attempts to avoid his fate of losing the titles he has attained.

The story follows the play quite closely, including some of the more well-known scenes, such as the ghost at the feast, and Washizu’s (Macbeth’s) wife trying to wash blood from her hands, translating the events to feudal Japan, with samurai lords, and a spirit, rather than the traditional witches. The plot is lean and sharp, making its points about self-fulfilling prophecy, loyalty, dishonour and guilt succinctly and with each scene having some impact or import to the story. It is said that Kurosawa often paints out each scene he directs on a canvas, and uses this as a reference, and here you can see that the composition of each shot has been considered carefully, framing exactly what is necessary. Little touches, such as the auguring spirit turning a wheel (to symbolize the circular nature of history and the rise and fall of the characters), are well-thought out, but not over-bearing in their symbolism. Foreshadowing, such as the rack of arrows that Asaji sits beside after the death of Tsuzuki likewise emphasise the themes of inescapable fate in a subtle way. Kurosawa draws out the horror of the story, with sinister touches such as the witch and the blood-stained room of the traitor Fujimaki, helped by the turns of Masaru Sato’s sombre yet terrifying score. The film also uses silence to spectacular effect, particularly in the scene following Tsuzuki’s death, when the piercing silence leaves the viewer to contemplate the atrocity that has been committed.

Kurosawa and Shakespeare are an unbeatable combination, as later evidenced by Ran (based on King Lear), with the director’s style well-suited to the grand themes of the bard’s work. “Throne of Blood” offers a moral message about the dangers of ambition and hubris, from the first ominous, foreboding poem being sung across scenes of barren earth where once the great castle stood, to the end, where we return to the same site. This is a world in which humanity is buoyed along by fate and entirely at its mercy, unable to truly experience free choice or action. The story considers the notion of fate and man’s doomed attempts to avoid it. There is ambiguity in the tale as to whether Washizu’s actions make his situation worse, whether the prophecy is fulfilled only because he became aware of it, or whether everything that happens is unavoidable. The film begins and ends with the site of the former Cobweb Castle, setting the scene as a warning for future generations. Full of action, horror, and intrigue, “Throne of Blood” is an expertly directed and superbly told story of ambition, paranoia, and dishonour.

Matt Cooper Films

Samurai Fiction (1998) by Hiroyuki Nakano

When Kazamatsuri (Tomoyasu Hotei) steals their ancestral sword, samurai Heishiro (Mitsuru Fukikoshi), along with friends, Tadasuke (Ken Osawa) and Shintaro (Naoyuki Fujii), sets out to recover it. Meanwhile his father sends out a squad of ninjas to help getback the sword. Heishiro is later joined by a legendary swordsman Mizoguchi (Morio Kazama) and his foster-daughter Koharu (Tamaki Ogawa), who tries to convince him not to fight Kazamatsuri.

Directed by Hiroyuki Nakano, from a script by Nakano and Hiroshi Saito, “Samurai Fiction” is a highly stylised homage to classic samurai cinema. The film frames its central story rather confusingly with the main character explaining that this is something that happened to him 300 years ago, including a cycling back through the years to the post-Shogunate period of relative peace. It is never explained what he means by this, and it really makes no difference to the story which then mostly takes place in the past. The film, shot predominantly in black-and-white, often references traditional period films, but blended with modern action cinema style. With overhead shots and other inventive camerawork such as characters running towards the camera, the use of narration, striking flashes of colour, occasional tongue-in-cheek references to the tropes of other historical dramas, it is clear that this is intended as a post-modernist reinterpretation of the genre. This is most evident in the soundtrack by star Tomoyasu Hotei, which features rock guitar, country rock, surfabilly, funk, and drum machines, providing a hyper-modern score to the traditional visuals. The story is simple, yet solid, allowing the audience to enjoy a reconstructionist samurai drama with a modern twist, a loving pastiche with enough tension and solid fight scenes to make it enjoyable in its own right.

Hiroyuki Nakano’s stylish samurai drama is an entertaining experience. The director previously worked in commercials and that sense of visual flair is apparent here, albeit sometimes at the expense of thematic or emotional depth. If you are a fan of old black-and-white samurai films, there is much to enjoy here as it draws in story and stylistic elements that will be familiar. A fun action film and a love-letter to classic cinema.

Matt Cooper Films

Crazy Samurai: 400 vs 1 (2020) by Yuji Shimomura

Tak Sakaguchi (Versus, Re:Born) is known for his action films, both a competent stunt performer and choreographer. This ambitious project is centered around an incredible one-take fight sequence that stretches to 72 minutes. Bookended by a short set-up and conclusion, the film is a showcase of the stunt teams swordplay. The film begins by introducing us to a clan who have recently lost two of their leaders. Their new head is to be a young boy, but first they intend to kill the man who took out their previous lords. That man is Musashi Miyamoto (Tak Sakaguchi). With a force of one hundred soldiers and further three hundred mercenaries, it seems they are more than prepared for this legendary swordsman. What follows is a stunning display of martial prowess and stamina as Miyamoto proceeds to cut his way through swathes of opponents.

Written by Atsuki Tomori and directed by Yuji Shimomura, at times this film becomes as much of an endurance test for the audience as it is for the performers. Your enjoyment of it may depend on your interest in swordplay. There comes a point, perhaps around the hundreth or two hundreth person Miyamoto has cut down, where you are either fully engaged or counting down the remaining adversaries. That said the film does have a lot to recommend it. The 72-minute one-take action sequence is certainly an audacious proposition, demanding a skilled team to pull-off effectively. Tak’s martial arts choreography and the performers do an admirable job. The film keeps things interesting by moving the action continuously, from woods, to city streets, indoors to outdoors, and mixing up the fighting and staging to lend variety. It is incredible to watch things unfold in real time, with the occasional breaks in the action showing the strain on Saguchi as he rehydrates, his fighting style becoming less sure and more exhausted as things progress. We see occasional change-ups in the fighting too with one opponent carrying a flail, though the majority is sword to sword fighting. It is hard to critique too harshly given the scale of what they are attempting here, but there could have been more use of close-quarters fighting, knife work, or more varied weaponry. The historical Miyamoto is best known for his two-sword style, which we also see brief glimpses of here.

The camera-work is exceptional, managing to capture some genuinely emotional and poignant shots amongst the carnage. There are a number of unavoidable weaknesses to this style of shooting: opponents waiting their turn to attack; certain people who should be dead circling round for the next sequence, the oddly placed water bottles; but for the most part these are minor details that pale next to the sheer thrill of seeing this single take sequence. It is worth noting that the action is broken up and there are story elements littered through the film. Though dialogue and characters are sparse, they do help to break up the waves of attack and prevent the film becoming overly monotonous. Perhaps the biggest issue is the lack of a sense of danger or reaction to events. In a conventional film, cutaways would show the aftermath of the action, the fear of those waiting for the inevitable doom, the protagonists anger or fear, along with set-ups and character work to give the action some weight. While attempts are made to do that here, there are stretches where the action lacks substantial emotional content. The music by Hidehiro Kawai is stirring, helping to bring a much-needed sense of drama and passion to the action. “Crazy Samurai: 400 vs 1” is perhaps more of a curiosity, constructed around an ambitious gimmick, than a conventional film, a startlingly audacious display of action choreography, that rewards your patience with some incredible moments.

Matt Cooper Films

Rurouni Kenshin: The Beginning (2021) by Keishi Otomo

Kenshin Himura (Takeru Sato) joins an anti-shogunate force led by Katsura Kogoro (Issey Takahashi), soon becoming one of their greatest assessins due to his unmatched skills with a sword. Himura meets a young woman Tomoe Yukishiro (Kasumi Arimura), recently bereaved after the man she was due to marry was cut down by Himura. Tomoe, overcome by grief, slowly comes to realise that Himura’s violent image masks a much more kind-hearted soul, and one that yearns for peace.

“Rurouni Kenshin: The Beginning” is a prequel to “Rurouni Kenshin: The Final”, and draws a lot of its tension from the viewing order (The Final being released first). Having seen “The Final”, and previous Kenshin films, we already know the fate of Kenshin and Tomoe, so at times this is a poignant watch not so much for what is happening on screen, but for what we know is coming later for these characters. Despite being a prequel, and the fifth in a series of lengthy historical epics, the film manages to feel fresh and inventive. The story is more sombre and melancholic than pervious entries. The fight sequences see a more brutal, violent, deadly, approach replacing the bombast, acrobatics and large scale battles of earlier films. This is fitting as we are seeing Himura in his previous incarnation as ‘Battosai the Killer’, before he became a peaceful wanderer, when his determination to restore the Emporer saw him on a single-minded mission to eliminate all pro-shogunate forces. The choreography is outstanding again, but with a more merciless edge. The film’s focus on a small cast of characters, the majority of the narrative revolving around Himura and Tomoe’s relationship, allows for a different feel from the ensemble casts we are familiar with, creating a more personal and nuanced drama. Their story is a tragic love story predestined by their political and personal motivations. Knowing what is coming makes it all the more difficult to watch their relationship develop, their mistrust replaced by a growing loyalty. The pacing, score and cinematography all reflect the tragic themes, using the environments to bolster the action; the wintry duel at the end perfectly captures the coldheartedness and silent suffering of the protagonists. Being the fifth film in the series, there is familiarity in the exceptional work of set and costume designers, recreating the historical Kyoto, and for keen-eyed viewers it is interesting to note the small details in every scene.

This film takes us back to before Kenshin became “Rurouni”, when he was still a coldblooded killer, effortlessly dispatching scores of shogunate soldiers. It is somewhat surprising that he still appears as a largely sympathetic character, despite his copious bloodletting and slaughter of hundreds of individuals, but Sato’s performance and the delicate way the script deals with the tumultuous period setting mean that we are able to relate to some extent with the protagonist. The film tackles the thorny issue of whether violence, even murder, is ever justified in achieving political ends. As Tomoe tells Himura, the idea of fighting for peace seems strange. His actions are completely contrary to his stated desire to bring about peace, apparently causing only suffering. As with other Kenshin films, the real history of the period is used primarily as set dressing, and the film has little commentary on the rights or wrongs of each side of the conflict. No doubt, historians will know the significance of shogunate and imperial forces, but for the viewers it is enough to know that our hero is fighting for the emporer, and those trying to stop him are fighting for the shogun. The finale of the film returns us to the opening of the first live-action Kenshin film, a beautiful ending that recontextualises Himura’s actions following the battle of Toba-fushimi. An incredible denoument to the “Rurouni Kenshin” saga, a contemplative drama that gives depth to the character and raises difficult questions about the role of violence in effecting change.