(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
Readers, it isn’t often that I finish a feature production and find myself struggling with what to make of it. More often than not when such a phenomenon does happen – especially when it involves foreign films – my confusion almost always is tied to a lack of understanding of how a particular story may resonate with the fabric of that nation’s history. Being American – and being fond of American history – I haven’t experienced much enlightenment from abroad with the sole exception of loving their movies (and the occasional television show): an even casual grasp of what any country’s struggles have been tends to smooth out those lumps I may’ve found in a muddled narrative, and that’s definitely the case with 1979’s G.I. Samurai.
Directed by Kôsei Saitô from a story by Ryô Hanmura and Toshio Kamata, the tale involves several units of the Japanese Self Defense Force (SDF) who find themselves – for no discernible reason – thrown through a temporal rift back to the Warring States Period, a volatile time wherein the nation endured a great number of civil wars and the like. Essentially, all of these various clans were jockeying for control of the country; and these modern-day troops under command of ranking officer Yoshiaki Iba (played by Sonny Chiba) are forced to decide whether or not they’ll isolate themselves from society-at-large so as not to negatively impact the unfolding history or to align themselves with the somewhat reigning clan behind Lord Koizumi (Asao Koike). Koizumi’s ranking warlord – Nagao Kagetora (Isao Natsuyagi) – seems to be a loose cannon, and yet Iba senses an unexplained kinship with the man, so much so that the decision requires very little debate. When it eventually appears that they’ve no way back to the present day, Iba conscripts those men wishing to stay in the past and fight under the Koizumi banner; and, together, they go about making wartime history.
This similar set-up was used in Hollywood only a few months later: 1980’s The Final Countdown saw the USS Nimitz – a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier – thrown back in time to only hours before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, an event that precipitated America’s involvement in World War II. In this film, the ‘should we or shouldn’t we’ affect to change history remains central to everything that develops; and the boat commanders spend a reasonable amount of time debating the various positions. Knowing that they can save lives – one of their key tenets to their military service – weighs on their consciences throughout. Sadly, the film takes the easy way out when – in transit to stop the Japanese fleet – the Nimitz somewhat magically finds the portal again; and the fighters undoubtedly accept that they were never intended to alter past transgressions whatsoever. Reality isn’t an easy pill to swallow, but they remain soldiers following more of a cosmic responsibility than they do their Constitutional oaths.
What’s needed to better understand how this morality works in G.I. Samurai is the fact that these Japanese soldiers aren’t exactly ‘tasked’ with what was perceived as a working military. Simplifying the great deal of history, I’ll offer briefly that the Japanese nation was prohibited as a consequence of their actions in World War II from having and maintaining an active national military. Instead, they were eventually allowed to create a national defense force, one that largely required some national catastrophe to be put into service much less see any action. How must it weigh on the psychology of a trained soldier to know that, functionally, he’ll never see anything effectively resembling combat? Oh, he’ll be on hand when weather-related calamities unfold; and should a real-life Godzilla ever rise from the ocean depths and march on Tokyo he might get to use all of those nifty weapons in their national arsenal. But otherwise? He likely doesn’t feel much like a soldier, certainly not one who might have to rid the world of some treacherous adversary.
So it’s in this context that G.I. Samurai both works and resonates with the audience, especially the younger Japanese men and women who were a generation removed from World War II. Their parents had seen the effects that the resulting treaties have dealt on their nation and people, but their descendants only knew what schools were allowed to teach about the past. Certainly, they shouldn’t be penalized for the actions that took place decades ago, and they’d largely only seen a slow return to greatness of Japan on the world stage. Why should they continue paying a price they saw as being paid-in-full? Wasn’t it time to allow the country to do what it wanted and no longer feel a somewhat imperial oppression from the U.S. and the Allied powers?
Set against this backdrop, it’s easy to understand why G.I. Samurai meant so much to its generation. The story gradually finds its footing as Iba and his ‘good guys’ cull out the negative influences within their own ranks; and a viewer might even hear the celebration when one of the enlisted men is thrilled that he’ll finally be getting his chance to participate in the making of history. On that level, G.I. Samurai has the same aesthetic and patriotic DNA one might found in American films like The Dirty Dozen (1967), The Devil’s Brigade (1968), or Kelly’s Heroes (1970). Thematically, where it ends up is probably vastly closer to a feature like, say, Oliver Stone’s Platoon; but – for a brief time – these men relish the chance to take a stand for something even if they’re not entirely certain what they’re standing for in the moment. Think of it as … masculine desperation.
Still, some of the cinematography and the storytelling techniques are obviously a bit dated. I’m not sure how much money was invested in its special effects, but I can assure you that timeslip of the opening leaves a bit to the imagination. Precisely what the men are seeing and experiencing is never clearly defined – there’s a hint it might be tied to some astrological event – so take that rather protracted sequence as little more than a contrivance required to get to the story. There’s also some occasional flashes back to the present – Samurai has a handful of side-stories involving these recruits – but they, too, don’t feel as if they were all that necessary to what director Saitô has to say about men and the wars they’ll fight. Lastly, there’s also a curious reliance on a contemporary soundtrack – I’m understanding that the studio make a big effort to include pop tracks of the day – and I’m not sure that was the best way to go. War is hell, either way, but that doesn’t mean its soundtrack must be, too.
G.I. Samurai (1979) was produced by Kadokawa Haruki Jimusho and the Toei Company. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that Arrow has spared no expense in delivering perhaps the best sights and sounds available here: with effects work that can be a bit of a detriment in that not a great deal of money was spent to render the – ahem – magical time travel sequence. (Just grin and bear it.) Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This being Arrow I’ve got nothing but praise in that respect as there are some new and archival interviews I’d insist are downright mandatory in understanding why Samurai was a box office hit; in fact, the newly-produced audio commentary truly explains the socio-cultural reality of Japan (of the day) and extrapolates (to a degree) on why the film likely struck a chord with young folks who embraced it. Methinks the hosts have a solid grasp on how even an imperfect film can still perfectly represent a generation; and that alone makes this a picture worth viewing.
Recommended.
Even though I’ll admit to experiencing a bit of a struggle in coming up with all that much to say about G.I. Samurai (1979), it’s still the kind of flick that deserves to be seen. Of course, how widely the story – and some uninspired effects, a kinda/sorta hackneyed if not downright goofy set-up, and some cheesy humor – is going to be appreciated will likely depend on the seriousness (or not) the viewer attaches to soldiers finding themselves back in time and actively deciding ‘history be damned, we’re going to fight for ourselves!’ Performances are quite good – Shiba oozes enough toxic masculinity all by himself that ardent feminists are warned to stay away, and Natsuyagi is downright brilliant as the war leader you’d both be a fool (and not) to trust. Still, it’s occasionally uneven – a bit long in battle sequences – never quite figuring out what it wanted so much to saw about bloodshed as it did the men who partook of all the festivities.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of G.I. Samurai (1979) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Readers, it isn’t often that I finish a feature production and find myself struggling with what to make of it. More often than not when such a phenomenon does happen – especially when it involves foreign films – my confusion almost always is tied to a lack of understanding of how a particular story may resonate with the fabric of that nation’s history. Being American – and being fond of American history – I haven’t experienced much enlightenment from abroad with the sole exception of loving their movies (and the occasional television show): an even casual grasp of what any country’s struggles have been tends to smooth out those lumps I may’ve found in a muddled narrative, and that’s definitely the case with 1979’s G.I. Samurai.
Directed by Kôsei Saitô from a story by Ryô Hanmura and Toshio Kamata, the tale involves several units of the Japanese Self Defense Force (SDF) who find themselves – for no discernible reason – thrown through a temporal rift back to the Warring States Period, a volatile time wherein the nation endured a great number of civil wars and the like. Essentially, all of these various clans were jockeying for control of the country; and these modern-day troops under command of ranking officer Yoshiaki Iba (played by Sonny Chiba) are forced to decide whether or not they’ll isolate themselves from society-at-large so as not to negatively impact the unfolding history or to align themselves with the somewhat reigning clan behind Lord Koizumi (Asao Koike). Koizumi’s ranking warlord – Nagao Kagetora (Isao Natsuyagi) – seems to be a loose cannon, and yet Iba senses an unexplained kinship with the man, so much so that the decision requires very little debate. When it eventually appears that they’ve no way back to the present day, Iba conscripts those men wishing to stay in the past and fight under the Koizumi banner; and, together, they go about making wartime history.
This similar set-up was used in Hollywood only a few months later: 1980’s The Final Countdown saw the USS Nimitz – a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier – thrown back in time to only hours before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, an event that precipitated America’s involvement in World War II. In this film, the ‘should we or shouldn’t we’ affect to change history remains central to everything that develops; and the boat commanders spend a reasonable amount of time debating the various positions. Knowing that they can save lives – one of their key tenets to their military service – weighs on their consciences throughout. Sadly, the film takes the easy way out when – in transit to stop the Japanese fleet – the Nimitz somewhat magically finds the portal again; and the fighters undoubtedly accept that they were never intended to alter past transgressions whatsoever. Reality isn’t an easy pill to swallow, but they remain soldiers following more of a cosmic responsibility than they do their Constitutional oaths.
What’s needed to better understand how this morality works in G.I. Samurai is the fact that these Japanese soldiers aren’t exactly ‘tasked’ with what was perceived as a working military. Simplifying the great deal of history, I’ll offer briefly that the Japanese nation was prohibited as a consequence of their actions in World War II from having and maintaining an active national military. Instead, they were eventually allowed to create a national defense force, one that largely required some national catastrophe to be put into service much less see any action. How must it weigh on the psychology of a trained soldier to know that, functionally, he’ll never see anything effectively resembling combat? Oh, he’ll be on hand when weather-related calamities unfold; and should a real-life Godzilla ever rise from the ocean depths and march on Tokyo he might get to use all of those nifty weapons in their national arsenal. But otherwise? He likely doesn’t feel much like a soldier, certainly not one who might have to rid the world of some treacherous adversary.
So it’s in this context that G.I. Samurai both works and resonates with the audience, especially the younger Japanese men and women who were a generation removed from World War II. Their parents had seen the effects that the resulting treaties have dealt on their nation and people, but their descendants only knew what schools were allowed to teach about the past. Certainly, they shouldn’t be penalized for the actions that took place decades ago, and they’d largely only seen a slow return to greatness of Japan on the world stage. Why should they continue paying a price they saw as being paid-in-full? Wasn’t it time to allow the country to do what it wanted and no longer feel a somewhat imperial oppression from the U.S. and the Allied powers?
Set against this backdrop, it’s easy to understand why G.I. Samurai meant so much to its generation. The story gradually finds its footing as Iba and his ‘good guys’ cull out the negative influences within their own ranks; and a viewer might even hear the celebration when one of the enlisted men is thrilled that he’ll finally be getting his chance to participate in the making of history. On that level, G.I. Samurai has the same aesthetic and patriotic DNA one might found in American films like The Dirty Dozen (1967), The Devil’s Brigade (1968), or Kelly’s Heroes (1970). Thematically, where it ends up is probably vastly closer to a feature like, say, Oliver Stone’s Platoon; but – for a brief time – these men relish the chance to take a stand for something even if they’re not entirely certain what they’re standing for in the moment. Think of it as … masculine desperation.
Still, some of the cinematography and the storytelling techniques are obviously a bit dated. I’m not sure how much money was invested in its special effects, but I can assure you that timeslip of the opening leaves a bit to the imagination. Precisely what the men are seeing and experiencing is never clearly defined – there’s a hint it might be tied to some astrological event – so take that rather protracted sequence as little more than a contrivance required to get to the story. There’s also some occasional flashes back to the present – Samurai has a handful of side-stories involving these recruits – but they, too, don’t feel as if they were all that necessary to what director Saitô has to say about men and the wars they’ll fight. Lastly, there’s also a curious reliance on a contemporary soundtrack – I’m understanding that the studio make a big effort to include pop tracks of the day – and I’m not sure that was the best way to go. War is hell, either way, but that doesn’t mean its soundtrack must be, too.
G.I. Samurai (1979) was produced by Kadokawa Haruki Jimusho and the Toei Company. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that Arrow has spared no expense in delivering perhaps the best sights and sounds available here: with effects work that can be a bit of a detriment in that not a great deal of money was spent to render the – ahem – magical time travel sequence. (Just grin and bear it.) Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This being Arrow I’ve got nothing but praise in that respect as there are some new and archival interviews I’d insist are downright mandatory in understanding why Samurai was a box office hit; in fact, the newly-produced audio commentary truly explains the socio-cultural reality of Japan (of the day) and extrapolates (to a degree) on why the film likely struck a chord with young folks who embraced it. Methinks the hosts have a solid grasp on how even an imperfect film can still perfectly represent a generation; and that alone makes this a picture worth viewing.
Recommended.
Even though I’ll admit to experiencing a bit of a struggle in coming up with all that much to say about G.I. Samurai (1979), it’s still the kind of flick that deserves to be seen. Of course, how widely the story – and some uninspired effects, a kinda/sorta hackneyed if not downright goofy set-up, and some cheesy humor – is going to be appreciated will likely depend on the seriousness (or not) the viewer attaches to soldiers finding themselves back in time and actively deciding ‘history be damned, we’re going to fight for ourselves!’ Performances are quite good – Shiba oozes enough toxic masculinity all by himself that ardent feminists are warned to stay away, and Natsuyagi is downright brilliant as the war leader you’d both be a fool (and not) to trust. Still, it’s occasionally uneven – a bit long in battle sequences – never quite figuring out what it wanted so much to saw about bloodshed as it did the men who partook of all the festivities.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of G.I. Samurai (1979) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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