Film Review: The 47 Ronin (1941 - 1942)
Among the myriad events that have shaped the tapestry of Japanese history, the saga of the 47 Ronin is hardly the most important, nor the most consequential in terms of geopolitical impact. Yet, it has endured as one of the most popular narratives in the nation's lore, inspiring countless works of art, literature, and, ultimately, film through numerous dramatic reconstructions. This popularity has not always translated to critical acclaim, a fact exemplified by the ill-thought 2013 Hollywood version starring Keanu Reeves, which failed to capture the spirit of the original tale. Among the earlier cinematic takes on this story, however, one stands out not for its box office success, but for its distinct artistic integrity: the 1941 two-part film (released in 1941 and 1942) directed by the famed filmmaker Kenji Mizoguchi, a work that remains a fascinating, if flawed, artefact of its time.
The narrative takes its beginning in April 1701 within the imposing confines of Edo Castle in what is now modern-day Tokyo. At this juncture, Japan has enjoyed a century of peace under the regime of the Tokugawa Shogunate, a period of relative stability that allowed for the flourish of culture and rigid social structures. Asano Naganori (Yoshizaburo Arashi), the daimyo of the Ako domain, is summoned to participate in court ceremonies. During his stay, he becomes the target of a calculated insult from Kira Yoshinaka (Kazutoyo Mimasu), the arrogant and corrupt master of ceremonies. A young and hotheaded man by nature, Asano reacts impulsively by attempting to assassinate Kira within the very halls of the castle. His attempt fails, and the shogun, in a swift and unforgiving demonstration of authority, sentences him to death, which is carried out by Asano himself via hara-kiri, or ritual suicide.
The news of Asano’s death and the circumstances surrounding it strikes a devastating blow to his loyal retainers, particularly his chamberlain, Oishi Kuranosuke (Chojuro Karawasaki). Asano’s clan is formally disbanded, his lands confiscated, and his loyal samurai are left without a master, becoming masterless ronin. Many of these men consider the disbandment a gross injustice and feel an overwhelming obligation to avenge their master by killing Kira. Oishi initially opposes this course of action, seeking to appeal the shogunate's decision through legal channels. This long process takes a severe toll on his health and his marriage, driving him toward excessive drinking. However, it is ultimately revealed that this struggle was a carefully orchestrated ruse intended to lower Kira’s guard. In a decisive act of retribution, Oishi and the remaining 46 ronin raid Kira’s property on 30 January 1703 and kill him. Having completed their mission, they are all sentenced to death via hara-kiri, which they commit at the very end of the film.
Kenji Mizoguchi is, alongside Yasujiro Ozu and Akira Kurosawa, universally regarded as one of the greatest Japanese directors of the mid-20th Century, a figure instrumental in putting Japanese cinema on the world stage. His most celebrated works, however, date primarily from the 1950s, such as Sansho the Bailiff and The Life of Oharu. Consequently, The 47 Ronin is often considered one of the more obscure and transitional pieces within his filmography.
The reason for this obscurity lies largely in the film's production context. It was produced and released during World War II, shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Many later historians and film scholars have interpreted the film as a piece of propaganda, noting that its favourable depiction of duty, honour, and self-sacrifice fits perfectly with the needs of the militaristic government. The film serves as a celebration of the samurai spirit, aligning state interests with traditional cultural values to bolster morale during a time of conflict. The narrative almost reads like a recruiting poster for the ideals of bushido, a technique that was effective for domestic consumption but perhaps limited its international appeal.
On the other hand, Mizoguchi, who began his career in the silent period, demonstrates exceptional technical skill. The 47 Ronin features a distinct talent for shot composition and makes extensive use of crane shots and moving cameras. These techniques are employed to successfully manage and visualise large numbers of participants, showing the scale of the historical events without resorting to clutter. Interestingly enough, there is very little or no violence depicted in the film. While Asano’s attack on Kira is briefly shown, the climactic raid on Kira’s estate is omitted, and Kira’s death is relayed to the audience via a letter, focusing instead on the emotional and psychological weight of the events.
However, Mizoguchi’s technical skill cannot fully compensate for the serious flaw in the script, which involves too much repetitive dialogue and an extremely slow pacing. This sluggishness was partially responsible for the film having to be distributed in two parts, with a combined running time of nearly four hours. This length, combined with the dated nature of the storytelling, explains why this version of The 47 Ronin, unlike the latter depictions of this event, turned out into a box office flop. The dialogue often feels stilted and expository, dragging the narrative to a crawl that modern audiences, accustomed to the rapid-fire editing of contemporary cinema, may find difficult to endure.
There is, however, one interesting detail near the end of Part 2 that highlights Mizoguchi's unique directorial vision. Mizoguchi is generally regarded as having privately held left-wing political beliefs, and much of his work deals with social oppression, often directed against women. Here, he managed to slip one such subplot into the film in the form of Omino (Mieko Takamine). She is a young woman who dresses as a man trying to pass as a samurai to get into contact with her fiance who has joined the 47 ronin. This character adds a layer of depth to the narrative, showcasing Mizoguchi's ability to weave complex human dramas even within the rigid confines of a historical epic.
The 47 Ronin from 1941 is a film that, despite its technical proficiency for its era, shouldn’t be recommended to modern audience, unless viewers are hardcore cinephiles or mid 20th century Japanese cinema aficionados. While it offers a compelling look at a pivotal moment in history and displays the hallmarks of a master director, its sluggish pacing and repetitive dialogue make it a challenging watch for contemporary viewers seeking quick entertainment or high-octane action.
RATING: 5/10 (++)
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