An unfeeling swordsman (Tatsuya Nakadai) hacks his way through life, without fear of consequence.
But consequences are coming - and they are even more remorseless than he is.
The Sword of Doom is a title I remember reading about years ago. I used to love finding books on genres I never had access to.
I’ve mentioned it before but my access to movies was limited by resources and availability. It was not until streaming - and a working knowledge of local Arthouse schedules - that I have been able to fill gaps.
I became aware of those gaps from books. My university library boasted a large number of film history and genre studies books which became treasure trove for movies I was not able to see.
One of those genres was jidaigeki, period films often featuring samurai.
You could find the big titles in stores (mostly Kurosawa), but these books dived beyond the familiar titles, to filmmakers and movies which you could not find.
The Sword of Doom is an evocative title, and it stuck in my head for over a decade.
Thankfully, I could not remember anything about the plot, so I booked a ticket without even a clue for what I was about to see.
The tale of an evil samurai and how he sows the seeds of his own doom, Sword is a bleak but arresting slow burn.
Part of that effect may be my own ignorance - for the first half I found the cuts between the two main storylines confusing. For some reason I missed that Omatsu (Yoko Naito) was the girl from the first scene.
The introduction to our villain is a great rug pull - he murders an old man praying at a Buddhist shrine.
From that moment on, nothing feels safe. Ryunosuke Tsukue (Nakadai) is completely selfish and uncompromising in pursuing whatever he wants.
There does not even seem to be that much of a thought process behind his actions. He is the world’s greatest swordsman, and no one can stand in his way.
When his opponent’s wife Hama begs him to lose their upcoming match, he demands her body as a trade.
He is completely without remorse. Every time it feels like he might be haunted or second-guessing, he covers with violence or some other voice.
And as his actions grow more depraved, he seems to become more confident and less disturbed by his own capacity for evil.
In the lead role, Nakadai is hypnotising. With his large eyes and poise, he is almost otherworldly.
Toshiro Mifune briefly appears as a sword instructor - he gets one standout action sequence, gracefully destroying a band of ronin in the snow.
There is something haunting about the film, an uncanny feeling every time the swordsman appears on screen.
He is often shot in separate coverage, dead-on or in profile, reinforcing the sense of an otherworldly figure who is disrupting the diegesis.
The film’s third act is remarkable for the way it frustrates expectations.
Once our hero and heroine (Omatsu) are finally together - and once he figures out who she is - it is like all the bad karma and ghosts of his past actions finally catch up with him.
We have been led to believe he is going to engage in a duel with the brother of the swordsman he killed at the beginning.
It never happens.
Driven mad, he hacks his way through his own gang.
Surrounded by bodies and heavily wounded, he lunges at the camera and the movie freezes.
Beautifully shot by Hiroshi Murai, the film makes great use of deep focus and heavy chiaroscuro, turning the film’s limited by striking locations (the misty woods where the swordsman is ambushed, and the snowy exterior set where Mifune buzz saws through an army of goons are amazing).
The Sword of Doom is fantastic.
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