Hara-Kiri Death of a Samurai

Takashi Miike’s tale of two men trying to save their family is incredibly difficult to watch. Early on in the piece, we’re confronted by a scene in which one of the key characters attempts to impale himself with a blunt wooden sword- painfully, repeatedly. Not a lot of gore is displayed, but it’s the fact that this man has been driven to such an unnatural and brutal act that shocks you. 

The story takes place in 17^th century Japan, where a sustained period of peace has caused many Samurai warriors to fall into poverty, becoming penniless and masterless Ronin. 

At the start of the film, a Ronin named Tsugumo presents himself to a local Lord. Ashamed that he cannot find work, he requests permission to use the Lord’s courtyard to commit Hara Kiri, or ritual suicide, and thereby retain some of his warrior’s honour. 

He is met with fear and suspicion however, as this is not the first time the Lord’s retainers have been met with such a request. Courtesy of a flashback, we learn that another young man came to them under identical circumstances- a situation that quickly turned into a tragedy. 

The first half-hour of Hara Kiri is powerful and provocative, raising many questions and successfully drawing you into the narrative. The downside of this is that the bulk of the film, told through another flashback, can’t keep up this level of intensity. The story and the concepts behind it are intriguing, but they’re drawn out for an unreasonable amount of time. The real problem is that all the puzzle pieces will have come together in your head long before the events are actually portrayed on screen, and by halfway through the film you’ll be left with no doubt as to how things are going to turn out. It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion. 

Essentially, Hara Kiri is a tale about the personal versus the impersonal. At one point in the film, Tsugumo pleads with the Lord’s retainers to show some humanity. His opponent scoffs angrily at this concept, almost as if he’s offended by the idea. This one exchange sums up the theme of the entire movie.

It’s one family’s decline into poverty and tragedy, victims of circumstance and the oppressive ’honour’ system that they’re all bound to. 

Without a giant budget, Hara Kiri still manages to build a believable world. The appearance of the film is very bleak, with a colour palette dominated by brown and grey, helping to create a subdued atmosphere. Takashi Miike often uses environmental effects to heighten the mood of a scene, such as snow to symbolise impending death. 

It’s particularly eerie and poetic when snow begins to fall on Tsugumo and the enraged samurai gathering around him in total silence, leaving you to dread what is coming next. 

Performances all around are good, but Ebizo Ichikawa is especially affecting and charismatic as the head of the beleaguered family- his performance is the glue that holds the whole thing together. 

Final Thoughts: 

Hara Kiri is the sort of movie that you ponder over, rather than celebrate; a sobering and heart-rending tragedy. Like all good historical dramas, much of what it says is relevant and applicable to the modern world.