On January 31st 1703, 47 Ronin committed seppuku (ritualistic suicide) having enacted revenge for the death of their master. Their feats of bravery, honour, loyalty and resolve have become the stuff of legend. It is woven into the very fabric of Japanese society and is heralded as the ultimate display of Bushidō (“the way of the warrior”).
There have been several adaptations of this story, on stage as well as film, the earliest dating back as early as 1910 (starring Onoe Matsunosuke) and been passed through the hands of such celebrated directors as Kon Ichikawa and Kenji Mizoguchi (who was commissioned by the Japanese Military to remake the story of The 47 Ronin and was to be seen a boost of morale to the Japanese people, being released just prior to the events that would see Japan enter World War II and the attack on Pearl Harbor).
To this day their lives are celebrated each December 14th with a festival held at the Sengakuji Temple in Tokyo, the resting place of each of the Ronin, along with that of their master, Asano Naganori. So to say that this story is important to Japan is an understatement.
1978 saw another release of this integral tale, this time from a man used to telling sweeping stories with a multitude of characters, each given time to find their own voice in an ocean of screams and battle cries. The same man that had spent the best part of the 1970s weaving a narrative about Yakuza warfare following the Second World War, sharing decades in the lives of the men that would shape the Japanese underworld in his fictionalised history of Japan, known to the world as Battles Without Honour and Humanity. His name was Kinji Fukasaku and he was the right man at the right time to do the right job with his film The Fall of Ako Castle.
The Fall of Ako Castle is so indicative of 1970s Japanese cinema and yet so timeless in its recreation of this moment in Japanese history.
Those familiar with Kinji Fukasaku’s work from this period of his career will feel right at home. His pacing is methodical and deliberate, assuring that each detail is given the respect it so richly deserves. This also helps in connecting the audience with the frustrations felt by many of the Ronin wishing to take action rather than wait upon their leader’s orders, with a long stretch in the middle that feels aimless and unwarranted at the time, but in hindsight is an act of genius.
At 2hrs 39mins, The Fall of Ako Castle is in no rush to get to its all too familiar conclusion, which is well known and greatly regarded amongst the people of Japan. So Kinji Fukasaku takes full advantage of this, allowing moments to breath and characters to emerge before moving forward.
This is ably assisted by the sheer force of star power in place. From Shinichi “Sonny” Chiba to Toshiro Mifune via the legendary Kinnosuke Nakamura, their status as beholden to the silver screen as the actions of those 47 Ronin is to the nation of Japan. A fitting tribute by some of the greatest to ever be captured on celluloid.
Whilst Eureka Entertainment’s release of this classic may feel light on extras in comparison to some of their more recent Hong Kong film releases, what it lacks in quantity it more than makes up for in quality, featuring a feature length commentary by Japanese film expert Tom Mes and a detailed interview with East Asian film historian Tony Rayns, which really digs beneath the surface of the original story.
The Fall of Ako Castle is so indicative of 1970s Japanese cinema and yet so timeless in its recreation of this moment in Japanese history. It accomplishes what so few Jidaigeki or Chanbara films of the time manage to do, that being a true classic of both its time and for future generations to come, something learned from the actions of 47 Ronin all those many years ago.
