KillingChoosing to not act is itself an action. Killing is a samurai movie by Shinya Tsukamoto, about a skilled pacifist samurai named Mokunoshin Tsuzuki (Sosuke Ikematsu), who has been staying with the farmers of a small village, helping them with chores and discouraging trouble from bandits in return for room and board. He teaches an impetuous young boy name Ichisuke (Ryusei Maeda) in the ways of sword fighting, while harboring a quiet affection for his older sister, Yu (Yu Aoi). When another samurai named Jirozaemon Sawamura (Tsukamoto) invites him to come to Edo for a mission that requires the lethal talents of a samurai like Tsuzuki, the quiet swordsman struggles to reconcile his role as a warrior and his desire to avoid conflict.
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Killing is Tsukamoto's most recent movie, and it bears the mark of many of his earlier films. Tsuzuki is a reluctant protagonist, who is at odds with his desire to remain a decent human being against the constant pull to transform into a monster--a killer--as in Tsukamoto's breakthrough film, Tetsuo: The Iron Man. The samurai class is treated as being superior to peasants like Ichisuke, Yu, and their family and friends, though Tsuzuki is always humble and generous. He spars with Ichisuke using wooden swords, and never deliberately harms the boy, who lunges and screams without grace. Ichisuke has a romanticized idea of the samurai as a western boy would have for a brave knight. He longs to shake free of the life of a farmer; and when Sawamura offers to recruit him as a "stand-in", it's like a dream come true. Ichisuke makes Tsuzuki come to see Sawamura, who is engaged in a duel with another samurai, where it becomes evident that the older samurai is no slouch--after all, his opponent is never seen again. But Tsuzuki knows that Ichisuke is not good at swordplay, and tells him this, to which the boy replies that Tsuzuki is merely being an elitist. Yu has fallen in love with Tsuzuki, and vice versa, though both are too shy to reveal their true feelings to one another. Instead, Yu sternly questions whether Tsuzuki will die after leaving her, and he claims that he will not; and yet, as a samurai, this is always a possibility, so he cannot truly guarantee this. Trouble starts when a band of bandits and thieves perch outside of the village, looking ominous but not provoking conflict directly. The villagers ask Tsuzuki to drive off the bandits, implying that he should fight them. Instead, the wise samurai discourages them from attacking by joining them for a drink and a fireside chat. He takes the time to learn about who these people are and what they really want, rather than merely escalating the situation by initiating conflict. Few heroes in a movie like this would take this approach, but it has the combined benefit of giving depth and compassion to Tsuzuki and also identifying that he is intelligent enough to know what will truly give comfort to the villagers. Unfortunately, on the day they are set to depart for Edo, Tsuzuki is overcome by a fever, and the sullen Ichisuke believes that it will mean that he will be deprived of the chance to prove his worth. Already frustrated, he is humiliated by the bandits and lashes out, only to be thoroughly trounced. And it is here that Sawamura takes it upon himself to seek justice for the boy, slaughtering all but one of the bandits--an unfortunate decision that becomes akin to lighting a match over a keg of gunpowder. Tsuzuki recovers only to discover that great tragedy has befallen the village, and he is accused of failing to defend them and that he must avenge them to atone.
What separates Killing from other samurai movies is that it avoids glorifying violence; in fact, it is grisly and unsettling when it rears its ugly head. The film opens with the forging of a sword--an elemental process of smelting the steel and pounding it into shape that also evokes the raw and industrial sensibilities of Tsukamoto's Tetsuo II: Body Hammer. This is followed by a shot of nervous hands holding a katana. For much of the film, Killing suggests that this is Ichisuke holding the blade, although it becomes clear that it is a metaphorical representation of Tsuzuki's inner conflict and the paradox of his class. Despite being a trained killer, he refuses to use lethal violence on anyone he fights--a decision which isn't always his to make. Sawamura sees this as inaction, unbefitting of a samurai, and believes that in order to prove one's worth, they must kill. His quest is ultimately to show the shogun that he can honor him, but he feels that he must make a token of his loyalty by defeating another skilled samurai. Sawamura's values are warped, but so apparently are those of the villagers, who equate the martial competence of the samurai with a penchant for killing. What separates Tsuzuki from everyone else is that he can detach himself from his emotions and doesn't let things get out of hand. Yet he is harried on all sides by others who demand that he kill, whether to make up for the brash actions of others, or because the decision to wield his sword is already made for him by Sawamura. Tsuzuki is constantly pressed by others to fall in line with what is expected of him, despite what they know of his values of peace and preserving the sanctity of life. This proves to be one the cruelest cuts for him, since regardless of the affection and warmth others like Yu give to him, it crumples under pressure like a paper tiger. Tsuzuki becomes increasingly aware that his desires for reconciliation and forgiveness cannot find a home in this world, and that others will always see him as a killer first because he is a samurai, and not as anything or anyone different than that.
Recommended for: Fans of an emotionally powerful and gut-wrenchingly violent samurai movie that challenges its audience to reconsider what it means to be heroic...that it doesn't always necessitate fighting, and that sometimes the most heroic thing one can do is to forgive. Killing pulls the rug out on its audience in the last act with graphic violence intended to shock and disgust its audience more than fulfill some obligation for an adrenaline-fueled climax, making the film ultimately best suited to audiences with a strong stomach for this anyway.
What separates Killing from other samurai movies is that it avoids glorifying violence; in fact, it is grisly and unsettling when it rears its ugly head. The film opens with the forging of a sword--an elemental process of smelting the steel and pounding it into shape that also evokes the raw and industrial sensibilities of Tsukamoto's Tetsuo II: Body Hammer. This is followed by a shot of nervous hands holding a katana. For much of the film, Killing suggests that this is Ichisuke holding the blade, although it becomes clear that it is a metaphorical representation of Tsuzuki's inner conflict and the paradox of his class. Despite being a trained killer, he refuses to use lethal violence on anyone he fights--a decision which isn't always his to make. Sawamura sees this as inaction, unbefitting of a samurai, and believes that in order to prove one's worth, they must kill. His quest is ultimately to show the shogun that he can honor him, but he feels that he must make a token of his loyalty by defeating another skilled samurai. Sawamura's values are warped, but so apparently are those of the villagers, who equate the martial competence of the samurai with a penchant for killing. What separates Tsuzuki from everyone else is that he can detach himself from his emotions and doesn't let things get out of hand. Yet he is harried on all sides by others who demand that he kill, whether to make up for the brash actions of others, or because the decision to wield his sword is already made for him by Sawamura. Tsuzuki is constantly pressed by others to fall in line with what is expected of him, despite what they know of his values of peace and preserving the sanctity of life. This proves to be one the cruelest cuts for him, since regardless of the affection and warmth others like Yu give to him, it crumples under pressure like a paper tiger. Tsuzuki becomes increasingly aware that his desires for reconciliation and forgiveness cannot find a home in this world, and that others will always see him as a killer first because he is a samurai, and not as anything or anyone different than that.
Recommended for: Fans of an emotionally powerful and gut-wrenchingly violent samurai movie that challenges its audience to reconsider what it means to be heroic...that it doesn't always necessitate fighting, and that sometimes the most heroic thing one can do is to forgive. Killing pulls the rug out on its audience in the last act with graphic violence intended to shock and disgust its audience more than fulfill some obligation for an adrenaline-fueled climax, making the film ultimately best suited to audiences with a strong stomach for this anyway.