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ZATOICHI
(2004)
Dir: Takeshi Kitano
Zatoichi is a blind masseur who wanders through feudal Japan, drinking sake and gambling, pretty much keeping to himself until provoked: then all wholly hell breaks out of his cane--which is more accurately a sheath. The old bat has a sword, and nobody can touch him. As a character, Zatoichi dates pretty far back in Japanese culture. Not dragons-and-lanterns far, but 1960’s television and movies. The kind-hearted mercenary was the centerpiece of 26 films and countless small screen romps. For the 27th big-time soiree, Takeshi Kitano gives the fable his signature grace and weirdness, as both director and star (credited as “Beat Takeshi”). Predictability has never been in Kitano’s nature, from his humble beginnings as a comedic actor (where he garnered the moniker “Beat”) to his vast and prolific directing career (which has careened from ultra violent fare like Violent Cop, to kid-friendly goo like Kikujiro). The closest thing we’ve got to Kitano in America is Clint Eastwood. Both men are ridiculously prolific actors, directors, editors and composers (Kitano also paints, and has written over fifty books). Also, neither man seems afraid of taking risks. For Eastwood, that means everything from cavorting with orangutans, to making Sean Penn cry, to heehawing in outer space; he’s done it all and then some. Mystic River laid bare that our favorite dirty dick has a soft spot for Lifetime television dishes, furthering a suspicion that he’s been holding something back. Eastwood’s work seems constrained by his own adherence to leaden metaphors and decisive retribution, giving his movies a pinched feeling. His pictures have a strange sense of duty to them, like he’s passionately trying to appease a lofty, effervescent orb of western idealism. Kitano doesn’t give a fuck. Not to say that his movies are flippant or messy. He just has such an assured stoke that when something in one of his films comes across as garish or bizarre, it feels more like your misunderstanding than his misjudgment. I’d wager that Kitano is not in service of anyone’s expectations other than his own, and this conviction empowers all of his work. So despite the fact that the bare bones of Zatoichi’s plotline are a bit rote, every shred of detail that fills it out is so uniquely nuanced that it gives the movie stunning stature. Zatoichi is thick with shuddering battle scenes, doleful flashbacks and thoughtful comedic moments. These Kurosawa-type elements are beaded together by a string of scenes wherein the rhythm of things like field work literally become part of the soundtrack. Something akin to much of Dancer in the Dark, but more subtle. The swordfights are provocative as well. None of that Ang Lee, Peter-Pan shit here. When a sword tears through flesh, it’s like the victims soul is blossoming out with the blood that blasts from the fresh wound as if gravity gave leave of absence. The gore is sweet crimson poetry, and you can quote me on that. Oh, and the movie climaxes in a rambunctious tap number that maybe even Kitano didn‘t see coming. Samurai swords, kimonos and fucking tap dancing. Like everything in Zatoichi, it‘s another part of Kitano‘s uncanny world, and further evidence that Kitano is the polar opposite of sightless, the man is a visionary.
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