Tokijiro: Lone Yakuza (1966) A Melodramatic Yakuza Tragedy (Review)

Radiance Films continue to invest their time and resources into introducing the extraordinary work of Tai Kato to a wider audience. Tokijiro: Lone Yakuza is their fourth release of the under-appreciated genre master. It is staggering to think that this time last year I had never heard of the director and now each new offering is marked months in advance in my calendar. Their previous releases of I, The Executioner, By A Man’s Face You Shall Know Him and Eighteen Years In Prison have established Kato as a special voice in cinema, one who is comfortable operating within well known genres and then subverting them to create newfound depth. With the release of Tokijiro, the label expands on our understanding of the director’s range, with a film that transports us back to feudal Japan to explore the fallacy of honour and the human cost of violence. 

Tokijiro (Kinnosuke Nakamura) is a skilled swordsman and a gambler who respects the codes of honour and yet hates violence. After he refuses to get involved in a conflict, his protégé Asakichi (Atsumi Kiyoshi) takes on the mission only to be quickly killed. Tokijiro mourns, avenges him and wanders from province to province, trying to find his place in Japan, reluctantly accepting bounty contracts in exchange for food and board, where he is hired by the Yakuza to kill Sanzo (Azuma Chiyonosuke). Hired Goons who are accompanying Tokijiro try to ambush Sanzo, only for the wandering swordsman to fight them off and insist that Sanzo deserves a chance to honourably fight for his life. Sanzo is bested, and with his last breath, asks Tokijiro to take care of his wife Okinu (Ikeuchi Junko) and Son (Izumi Kazuko). Tokijiro risks the wrath of the Yakuza by accepting Sanzo’s last wish, setting off on a journey to win over the family of a man he has murdered, while protecting them from further harm. 

I was struck by the way Kato subverts the theme of honour in Tokijiro. In Eighteen Years In Prison and By A Man’s Face You Shall Know Him, Kato’s protagonists are honourable men who are steadfast in their beliefs while the world changes around them. They are principled men who rebel against Kato’s perceived lack of principals in Post-War Japan. They are unbreakably, unflinchingly good people who fight for the poor, the extorted, the common people. What’s fascinating about Tokijiro is that he lives by a code which makes him miserable. He is a skilled fighter who hates fighting, a moralistic man who gambles. He is a man of contradiction, unhappy with his way of life and unable to find happiness within the confines of living by honour. Unlike Kato’s other work, in Tokijiro honour is oppressive — the strict code keeps Tokijiro trapped in a cycle of violence. It is only after seeing the human cost of his actions that he begins to rebel against this societal structure. 

What I loved even more is the film’s profound movement into melodramatic territory when Tokijiro finds meaning by caring for Okinu and her son. Kato taps into the joy of maximalist filmmaking; utilising swelling music, dreamy framing and heightened drama to create an overwhelming development of feeling between Tokijiro and Okinu that shifts our protagonist’s place in the world. The speed in which this happens so soon after Okinu’s husband’s death (at the hands of Tokijiro no less) will inevitably leave some viewers cold. However, as a lover of melodrama, I was thrilled to be taken on a ride which made Tokijiro: Lone Yakuza the most emotionally engaging Tai Kato release to date. The film is a visual feast, brought to life by Radiance’s incredible restoration, which allows viewers to appreciate Kato as the master craftsman he is. His varied stylistic choices colour this film with personality and atmosphere. Fight scenes are injected with life through quick cuts, intense close-ups and sprinklings of gore. He contrasts this with composed long shots that play out like moving paintings. There’s a stunning wide angle shot of Tokijiro, as he confesses the pain of his past year. Kato holds the shot for the length of the story, in a sobering wide that forces his audience to confront Tokijiro’s crimes and flaws. The spell of grief is broken by a familiar song he hears in the distance. Kato crashes into a close-up, interjecting life back into a character who had all but given up. Kato urgently follows him as he follows the music and follows his heart. It is simply perfect melodramatic filmmaking. 

The film’s blistering finale compounds its anti-violence themes and reveals Tokijiro: Lone Yakuza as a great tragedy. It is a release that will delight those like me, who are newfound Tai Kato fans, and will convert those who are yet to discover this work. Within four films, Radiance have already demonstrated Tai Kato’s impressive range and craft. I have loved the past year’s crash course in the work of an under-appreciated, but supremely talented director. I can’t be the only person holding out hope that there’s even more to come.

The impressive HD transfer is accompanied by an interview with film critic Koushi Ueno about the film’s place in genre cinema history, a visual essay on star Kinnosuke Nakamura by Japanese cinema expert Robin Gatto (2024) and a limited edition booklet featuring new writing by scholar Ivo Smits and a newly translated archival review. 

Jimmy’s Archive – Tokijiro: Lone Yakuza (1966)