Final Rating: 4.5/5
In Jun’ichi Yasuda’s A Samurai in Time, viewers are treated to a fish out of water story that is charming and evocative. During a storm, a samurai is struck by lightning and transported hundreds of years into the future–to Japan, circa 2007. Yasuda goes through great pains to make the story that unfolds feel as natural as possible. With the aid of many impassioned performances, he succeeds.
The aforementioned samurai is Kosaka Shinzaemon, played by Makiya Yamaguchi. In the only scene before Shinzaemon is vaulted into the future, Yamaguchi immediately embodies the spirit of a samurai. His look, his physical performance, and speech all sound resoundingly accurate (to the ears of someone whose knowledge stems from other samurai films, anyway). So convincing is Yamaguchi’s performance, that he sticks out on the set of Worry-Not-Reformer, a period drama set during Shinzaemon’s time. Even surrounded by actors playing samurai in 2007, Yamaguchi has no hope of fitting in.
The metatextual elements superimpose themselves on A Samurai in Time in a way that draws additional meaning out of many facets of the film. Making a samurai stick out in modern day Japan would not be terribly difficult, but Yasuda goes a step further to drop him into a setting that he would otherwise look comfortable in which further emphasizes just how far from home Shinzaemon actually is.
Films that revolve around the art of filmmaking have an extra hurdle to overcome. Savvy audience members will point out moments in a movie where they’re confident someone or some prop was held up by strings that have been wiped out by visual effects. A famous actor jumping out of a window will easily register as a stunt person taking their spot. But when a movie throws those “tricks” in your face in one scene, then needs to convince you they aren’t happening in another lest your investment in the characters or story be thrown into dispute… that’s a much steeper hill to climb.
Shinzaemon’s early experiences in the real world include an encounter with a group of zombie extras and getting knocked out and waking up in the hospital. Throughout these early comedic moments, he’s pursued faithfully by assistant director Yuko Yamamoto, played by Yuno Sakura. She straddles the line between audience surrogate and fully-fledged character in her own right, as she dreams of writing her own screenplays and having a bigger role in the work she assists. She’s drawn to Shinzaemon and does everything she can to help him fit in without ever learning of his true origin.
The rest of the film’s first half plays out fairly expectedly. Shinzaemon discovers the joys of modern rice cooking, chokes up while eating a piece of cake, and has a life-altering experience watching an episode of Worry-Not-Reformer on television. He then decides to become a kirareyaku, a stunt performer who specializes in being cut down. With his background and some training from stunt director Inoue (played by Hajime Inoue), he quickly becomes successful, despite the shrinking number of period dramas being made.
And then Shinzaemon gets his big break. A former jidaigeki (Japanese period drama) performer who was prolific decades ago and then stepped away wants to come back and make a new samurai movie. Not only that, but he saw Shinzaemon’s performance on TV and wants him to play a part in the movie.
That’s when A Samurai in Time shifts in genre. The first half shows Shinzaemon adjusting to his new life in the present. It’s funny and heart-warming. Upon meeting former jidaigeki actor Kyoichiro Kazami, played by Norimasa Fuke, the film stops being a comedy and becomes a drama. Shinzaemon meets Kazami and initially refuses the role–he wasn’t picked to be merely a stunt performer, he was picked to be an actor. When he turns down the role because he doesn’t believe he deserves it, Kazami reveals his true identity to be Yamagata Hikokuro, the samurai Shinzaemon had been fighting when he was transported into the future. Hikokuro also traveled through time, but his journey came to an end in the 70s, not the 00s like Shinzaemon.
Immediately, this almost idyllic life Shinzaemon has built unravels as his emotions bubble up inside him. He doesn’t want to be a stunt performer any longer; he wants to confront Hikokuro. Yasuda uses the conceit of time travel to put his characters into a unique situation, recontextualizing their conflict. It’s reminiscent of how abruptly the fight between Keanu Reeves’ John Wick and Common’s Cassian in John Wick: Chapter Two comes to a halt when they land on Continental ground. Shinzaemon and Hikokuro were locked in battle and on opposite sides of the shogunate in their previous lives. It’s not as simple as picking up swords and dueling to the death in the present.
The film is back loaded with drama that both Yamaguchi and Fuke are adept at displaying. Furthermore, their relationship is given incredible depth through Jun’ichi Yusada’s screenplay. It’s a conflict between two men that is at once very simple and densely layered. The performances, the writing, and the direction work together so effectively that Yusada gets away with a shot nearly forty seconds long that teases the audience. Nothing on screen moves during that time, yet it intensifies the forthcoming events.
It should also be noted that the costuming and set design throughout the film, both requiring strict attention to detail, are exemplary. A scene where Shinzaemon finally dons a modern look in present-day clothes and a present-day haircut feels bizarre thanks to the slightly off nature aspect of everything and Yamaguchi’s committed performance. Similarly, a flashback to Hikokuro’s past when he was younger (played by Ken Shônozaki) visually resembles some of the great samurai performers of old like Toshiro Mifune and Tatsuya Nakadai.
Jun’ichi Yasuda, who is credited as the cinematographer, visual effects artist, and editor in addition to writing, directing, and producing the film, captures exactly the vision he wanted in A Samurai in Time and the result is wonderful. He eschews larger questions about samurai and their role in Japan in favor of honing in on a character-driven story that transcends time. A pitfall that many filmmakers fall into with such a grandiose premise is letting the rest of their film revolve around it, but Yasuda imposes his will on the time travel element and forces it to coalesce around the story he’s telling.
Thank you to Third Window Films for the screener.
