Going back to the 1960’s and 1970’s, I think it was the Walt Disney Company that honestly cornered the theatrical marketplace on pictures giving special abilities to dunderheads all for the purpose of having them somehow rule the day.
Basically, the formula was used to give credence to the idea that ‘the meek shall inherit the Earth’ (theatrically, that is); and somehow the best and brightest were only cosmically held back from being popular because they lacked that special spark. You know? That special … something. In other words, if only our misfit son of a teenager knew he could swig a potion to make him the strongest man in the world, then he could be socially anointed to Prom King or Senior Class President where he morally deserved to be all along. He was the better choice, after all, but no one knew it because … well … because he lacked the polish to be amongst the high school in crowd. As a second-class citizen, he was virtually unknown; but it was the popular kids who truly missed out because they wouldn’t have his guiding influence when it was needed most.
Essentially, the inherent message was that one needed be amongst the social elite to inevitably become ‘the one true king,’ a respectable sentiment that fueled the self-esteem of many a dweeb for a time (me included). Of course, we’d somehow have to become a shaggy dog or we’d mysteriously have to switch places in some freaky Friday format to find true happiness; and since that wasn’t a reality available to any of us we had to settle with finding paradise only in the movies. Yes, these stories made us feel better about ourselves nonetheless – that was their purpose – but, therapeutically, they were little more than cinematic band-aids that never addressed our underlying deficiencies in such a way as to promote real and lasting personal transition. Instead, they had us believing in Fantasy; and that works fine when you’re a kid.
What I never knew was that even studios around the world ventured into similar waters, as is the case with 1970’s The Invisible Swordsman from Daiei Studios. Much like those Disney yarns of old, Swordsman employed a bit of magic and mystery when it endowed a fledgling nobody with a potion that rendered him invisible. It was only through this utilization of the dark and bitter tonic that he’d find the courage needed to make things right with the universe, crossing that bridge from cowardice to bravery, realizing that maybe everything he really needed was inside him all the time. None of this made the spell any less necessary because, functionally, the enchantment ultimately was a catalyst necessary to open his to the whole new world only an arm’s length away … this time, although, at the tip of a sword.
Buckle up, kiddos. It’s fighting time at the movies once more.
(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 …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A cowardly boy fencer becomes invisible and matchless through a magic pill.”
Basically, the formula was used to give credence to the idea that ‘the meek shall inherit the Earth’ (theatrically, that is); and somehow the best and brightest were only cosmically held back from being popular because they lacked that special spark. You know? That special … something. In other words, if only our misfit son of a teenager knew he could swig a potion to make him the strongest man in the world, then he could be socially anointed to Prom King or Senior Class President where he morally deserved to be all along. He was the better choice, after all, but no one knew it because … well … because he lacked the polish to be amongst the high school in crowd. As a second-class citizen, he was virtually unknown; but it was the popular kids who truly missed out because they wouldn’t have his guiding influence when it was needed most.
Essentially, the inherent message was that one needed be amongst the social elite to inevitably become ‘the one true king,’ a respectable sentiment that fueled the self-esteem of many a dweeb for a time (me included). Of course, we’d somehow have to become a shaggy dog or we’d mysteriously have to switch places in some freaky Friday format to find true happiness; and since that wasn’t a reality available to any of us we had to settle with finding paradise only in the movies. Yes, these stories made us feel better about ourselves nonetheless – that was their purpose – but, therapeutically, they were little more than cinematic band-aids that never addressed our underlying deficiencies in such a way as to promote real and lasting personal transition. Instead, they had us believing in Fantasy; and that works fine when you’re a kid.
What I never knew was that even studios around the world ventured into similar waters, as is the case with 1970’s The Invisible Swordsman from Daiei Studios. Much like those Disney yarns of old, Swordsman employed a bit of magic and mystery when it endowed a fledgling nobody with a potion that rendered him invisible. It was only through this utilization of the dark and bitter tonic that he’d find the courage needed to make things right with the universe, crossing that bridge from cowardice to bravery, realizing that maybe everything he really needed was inside him all the time. None of this made the spell any less necessary because, functionally, the enchantment ultimately was a catalyst necessary to open his to the whole new world only an arm’s length away … this time, although, at the tip of a sword.
Buckle up, kiddos. It’s fighting time at the movies once more.
(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 …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A cowardly boy fencer becomes invisible and matchless through a magic pill.”
Though I don’t like splitting hairs, I do have to point out that technically IMDB.com doesn’t quite have this description right: for clarity’s sake, The Invisible Swordsman’s transition isn’t accomplished by chewing up any pill. To my knowledge, pills didn’t even yet exist back in the days of feudal samurais. The sentiment is right – there is a mixed concoction that is used to accomplish the task of turning from visible to invisible – but whittling the context down to simply popping a capsule really diminishes some of the idea of the hero’s quest that is at work across the flick’s narrative structure, so shame on the movie site for getting it wrong!
Still, I’ll offer up a bit of an explanation on the portal’s behalf: Swordsman was made in the closing days of Daiei Studios (1942-1971), so it’s entirely possible that not a great deal of press emerged about the project, its cast and crew, and perhaps even its premise, making it entirely plausible for this curious oddity to get overlooked. Indeed, I can’t locate any great deal of information surrounding previous releases or screenings across the Information Superhighway; so I’m willing to chalk this error up to a legitimate misunderstanding.
Naturally, the oversight of Swordsman’s existence might actually work wonders for folks rediscovering what it has to offer with this all-new release from Arrow Films. Curiosity does far more than kill cats, and this pressing might help give the title a chance at building a potential cult following – not the worst fate for a middling effort – and as a samurai films enthusiast I’d definitely encourage like-minded folks that there’s some charm awaiting anyone who wishes to give it a try. Tonally, it’s a bit off; and yet it’s hard to deny that – for the young at heart – it isn’t that much a stretch from the lesser theatrical excursions of the Walt Disney Company. Indeed, the Mouse House made bank (at one time) with similar fare; and Swordsman – though flawed in some significant ways – reminds me a great deal of those films of my youth.
Sanshiro Yuzuki (played by Osamu Sakei) is little more than a bumbling samurai wannabe. His fears and physical inabilities keep him from rising to the challenge of becoming a master of the blade; and – out of sheer embarrassment – he begs his dojo’s sensei to allow him the freedom to take up something other than combat. After all, his father stands tall and proud with his sword, so why must the son follow in the footsteps when dear old dad is good enough to protect and serve the good people of their tiny village? Unfortunately, life always has an answer; and when that older man meets his maker at the hands of Gennoshin (Sônosuke Sawamura), Sanshiro’s grief is strong enough that it allows him to slip the veil of reality and step briefly into the Netherworld. Once there, he watches as the Death God (Asao Uchida) accompanies the dearly departed across the river Styx in a solemn and peaceful moment.
Still, I’ll offer up a bit of an explanation on the portal’s behalf: Swordsman was made in the closing days of Daiei Studios (1942-1971), so it’s entirely possible that not a great deal of press emerged about the project, its cast and crew, and perhaps even its premise, making it entirely plausible for this curious oddity to get overlooked. Indeed, I can’t locate any great deal of information surrounding previous releases or screenings across the Information Superhighway; so I’m willing to chalk this error up to a legitimate misunderstanding.
Naturally, the oversight of Swordsman’s existence might actually work wonders for folks rediscovering what it has to offer with this all-new release from Arrow Films. Curiosity does far more than kill cats, and this pressing might help give the title a chance at building a potential cult following – not the worst fate for a middling effort – and as a samurai films enthusiast I’d definitely encourage like-minded folks that there’s some charm awaiting anyone who wishes to give it a try. Tonally, it’s a bit off; and yet it’s hard to deny that – for the young at heart – it isn’t that much a stretch from the lesser theatrical excursions of the Walt Disney Company. Indeed, the Mouse House made bank (at one time) with similar fare; and Swordsman – though flawed in some significant ways – reminds me a great deal of those films of my youth.
Sanshiro Yuzuki (played by Osamu Sakei) is little more than a bumbling samurai wannabe. His fears and physical inabilities keep him from rising to the challenge of becoming a master of the blade; and – out of sheer embarrassment – he begs his dojo’s sensei to allow him the freedom to take up something other than combat. After all, his father stands tall and proud with his sword, so why must the son follow in the footsteps when dear old dad is good enough to protect and serve the good people of their tiny village? Unfortunately, life always has an answer; and when that older man meets his maker at the hands of Gennoshin (Sônosuke Sawamura), Sanshiro’s grief is strong enough that it allows him to slip the veil of reality and step briefly into the Netherworld. Once there, he watches as the Death God (Asao Uchida) accompanies the dearly departed across the river Styx in a solemn and peaceful moment.
However, a trickster demon – Shokera (Tokio Oki) – shows up, suggesting to the grieving young man that if he wants to exact revenge on his father’s murderer that the spirits are willing to provide. Blessed with a quest to locate the elusive ingredients for a potion and blend them together in secrecy, the magical result will award him a mystical ability (it’s not really named, at this point) to defeat his enemies. Seeing no other means with which to resolve his feelings of inadequacy, Sanshiro agrees, shouting out to his departing father that he will see justice done once and for all.
In fairness, director Yoshiyuki Kuroda very capably sets up Swordsman in the mold of the rather typical revenge flick. The feature – despite a bit of goofiness applied by Sakei in his bid to present Sanshiro as a kinda/sorta bumbling hero-in-waiting – evokes settings which establish the era of nearly any classic samurai picture, complete with the team of rather downtrodden and mildly buffoonish villagers in typical period costumes and details. Furthermore, the transition from the world to the spirit world is equally inspired and looks quite grand: there’s a mystical fade out of reality into the dark, murky corners of the Underworld, a sequence that probably instilled the proper sense of doom and gloom for audiences of the day. All of these bits hold up nicely – despite a bit of cringe from this viewer with Sanshiro’s schtick – and are deserving of praise.
From this point forward, nevertheless, Swordsman feels like a slightly different feature. It loses that firm hand ushering the tale through its necessary paces; and, instead, becomes a bit more of a relatively low-brow and predictable comedy, one bolstered by stereotypes and some visual trickery employed in order to make invisibility work on the silver screen. Uncertain of what to make of objects seemingly floating in mid-air (these are items being handled by the invisible Sanshiro, you see), villagers and thieves almost apishly work through their moments of surprise, robbing the second half of any seriousness the film initially went so hard to establish. Sure … it works just fine, but I couldn’t overcome the impression that I was watching two halves of an incongruous whole.
None of this is to suggest that Swordsman isn’t entertaining.
It has a few spots that work quite fine, delivering meager laughs (maybe even a groan or two) and perhaps some modest admiration over what could still be accomplished with the obvious limitations of 60’s and 70’s era special effects. Curiously, Kuroda bends a good deal of the rules previously employed by Hollywood in depicting not only Sanshiro in his ethereal state but also the spooks and specters who inevitably follow him from the Afterlife into our domain once they’re aware of his endeavors. Instead of sticking with fully invisible the whole time, the actors are optically spliced into existence, making them there but also transparent. (The audience can see them, but others onscreen cannot.) But the fact that all of these mishaps are so poorly old-fashioned textually (i.e. outsmarting demons by situating a dead body in a different position; samurai swords slashing wildly through the air never once manage to strike their invisible opponent; etc.), the film ends up feeling far more cartoonish than it needed to give life to Sanshiro’s slowly emerging nobility and skill set required for the big finale.
In fairness, director Yoshiyuki Kuroda very capably sets up Swordsman in the mold of the rather typical revenge flick. The feature – despite a bit of goofiness applied by Sakei in his bid to present Sanshiro as a kinda/sorta bumbling hero-in-waiting – evokes settings which establish the era of nearly any classic samurai picture, complete with the team of rather downtrodden and mildly buffoonish villagers in typical period costumes and details. Furthermore, the transition from the world to the spirit world is equally inspired and looks quite grand: there’s a mystical fade out of reality into the dark, murky corners of the Underworld, a sequence that probably instilled the proper sense of doom and gloom for audiences of the day. All of these bits hold up nicely – despite a bit of cringe from this viewer with Sanshiro’s schtick – and are deserving of praise.
From this point forward, nevertheless, Swordsman feels like a slightly different feature. It loses that firm hand ushering the tale through its necessary paces; and, instead, becomes a bit more of a relatively low-brow and predictable comedy, one bolstered by stereotypes and some visual trickery employed in order to make invisibility work on the silver screen. Uncertain of what to make of objects seemingly floating in mid-air (these are items being handled by the invisible Sanshiro, you see), villagers and thieves almost apishly work through their moments of surprise, robbing the second half of any seriousness the film initially went so hard to establish. Sure … it works just fine, but I couldn’t overcome the impression that I was watching two halves of an incongruous whole.
None of this is to suggest that Swordsman isn’t entertaining.
It has a few spots that work quite fine, delivering meager laughs (maybe even a groan or two) and perhaps some modest admiration over what could still be accomplished with the obvious limitations of 60’s and 70’s era special effects. Curiously, Kuroda bends a good deal of the rules previously employed by Hollywood in depicting not only Sanshiro in his ethereal state but also the spooks and specters who inevitably follow him from the Afterlife into our domain once they’re aware of his endeavors. Instead of sticking with fully invisible the whole time, the actors are optically spliced into existence, making them there but also transparent. (The audience can see them, but others onscreen cannot.) But the fact that all of these mishaps are so poorly old-fashioned textually (i.e. outsmarting demons by situating a dead body in a different position; samurai swords slashing wildly through the air never once manage to strike their invisible opponent; etc.), the film ends up feeling far more cartoonish than it needed to give life to Sanshiro’s slowly emerging nobility and skill set required for the big finale.
Lastly, am I the only one who found the final showdown entirely incredulous? Nowhere along the way did Sanshiro even modestly attempt to gain any further skills with his blade. Why would he? He didn’t need to when he had invisibility on his side! The fact that he’s still blundering in the final matchup and requiring the assistance of his spectral compatriots kinda/sorta cheapens the whole idea of even calling him a ‘swordsman’ in the first place. Never even properly trained with a blade, there’s zero chance he could’ve held his own against a modestly skilled adversary; and I think this one should’ve figured out a more believable finish … even if it wanted to stay a comedy.
The Invisible Swordsman (1970) was produced by Daiei Studios. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I’ll concede that this one still looks and sounds fabulous. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few extras that deal a bit more with the studio and the genre than they specifically do the film; still, the commentary track from Asian culture expert Jonathan Clements is the best thing on here, and he gives a great deal of context to some of the extra details that went both into the look and probably the writing of the story. It’s a must-see, so far as I’m concerned.
Mildly Recommended.
Sometimes the best experiences I have with film is discovering a lesser feature which completely escaped my knowledge; but The Invisible Swordsman (1970) – which fits that bill – ends up being far too uneven for me to embrace its modest goodness. Though I’m admittedly a big fan of films wherein the lovable knucklehead rises up to save his world (or, at least, his little corner of it), the construct just doesn’t quite fit seamlessly when its applied here: performances are good, but I just couldn’t accept Sanshiro stumbling into his rightful place in the last reel especially when it required supernatural intervention (in the way it did) to work. At best, the flick’s an interesting eccentricity, maybe one that affirms that storytellers on opposing sides of the ocean see things more alike than differently: worth a single viewing, but it has little lasting appeal to me.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Invisible Swordsman (1970) 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
The Invisible Swordsman (1970) was produced by Daiei Studios. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I’ll concede that this one still looks and sounds fabulous. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts a few extras that deal a bit more with the studio and the genre than they specifically do the film; still, the commentary track from Asian culture expert Jonathan Clements is the best thing on here, and he gives a great deal of context to some of the extra details that went both into the look and probably the writing of the story. It’s a must-see, so far as I’m concerned.
Mildly Recommended.
Sometimes the best experiences I have with film is discovering a lesser feature which completely escaped my knowledge; but The Invisible Swordsman (1970) – which fits that bill – ends up being far too uneven for me to embrace its modest goodness. Though I’m admittedly a big fan of films wherein the lovable knucklehead rises up to save his world (or, at least, his little corner of it), the construct just doesn’t quite fit seamlessly when its applied here: performances are good, but I just couldn’t accept Sanshiro stumbling into his rightful place in the last reel especially when it required supernatural intervention (in the way it did) to work. At best, the flick’s an interesting eccentricity, maybe one that affirms that storytellers on opposing sides of the ocean see things more alike than differently: worth a single viewing, but it has little lasting appeal to me.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Invisible Swordsman (1970) 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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