The impact Japanese culture has had on pop-culture cannot be understated. Even people who do not actively seek out Japanese cultural productions can form an image of Godzilla, samurai, and the cat-like ninja. Yet, while the black-clad ninja are heroic in the collective consciousness, it might come as a surprise that first three Shinobi films, which heavily influenced today’s phantasmatic image of the ninja, are so nihilistic in nature and critical of the Japanese society of the sixties.

[Click the banner to go the Radiance website to purchase the Shinobi No Mono trilogy]

Yet, it should not surprise anyone familiar with Japanese cinema. The historical setting of Jidai-geki films has been exploited many times to offer critical allegories of Japan’s pre-war and post-war societal structure and transformations. It is thus a given that left-wing writer Tomoyoshi Maruyama, whose novels formed the basis for these three films, would exploit utilize such frame to denounce certain trends in the post-war societal fabric. The first Shinobi film, whose script was penned down by Hajime Takaiwa and directed by Satsuo Yamamoto, critiques the societal demand for blind obedience to the governing ‘father’ as well as the capitalistic greed that leaves a trail of societal destruction in its wake. Neither the clinging to tradition nor the post-war societal shifts towards a consumer society provide a suitable answer to the subject.

So, how does Shinobi no Mono: Band of Assassins explore this conflictual tension within the societal field? Before answering this question, we need to introduce set-up of the narrative. Yamamoto’s film starts in the summer of 1573. Oda Nobunaga (Tomisaburo Wakayama), propelled by his desire to unite and rule over all the clans, has just crushed the allied forces of Asakura and Azai in Northern Omi, and Sandayu (Yunosuke Ito) the general of the Iga Ninja, vows to stop Nobunaga’s arrogance and capitalistic greed.

He argues to his followers that Nobunaga’s act of setting fire to holy temple complex on mount Hiei, destroying many holy statues and murdering more than one thousand monks and priests, insulted the very religious origin of Ninjutsu and, thus, every one who follows the way of the ninja. He furthermore informs them that a rival ninja clan, led by Fujibayashi Nagato, also aim to murder Nobunaga. And, of course, losing against them would be an imaginary insult to the teachings of the Shijuku-ryu Ninjutsu and the pride of Momochi fortress.

While the set-up of Shinobi no Mono: Band of Assassins appears quite simple, it is merely a supportive structure to frame a more complex game of skilful deception and nifty manipulation. Individuals are to be exploited as pawns and their weaknesses exploited to coerce them into carrying out someone’s bidding. We will refrain from delving too deeply into the surprising narrative twists and turns as the unfolding of the masterfully weaved cobweb of ruses and manoeuvres form the main source of the spectator’s pleasure. 

The importance of the game of manipulation for the narrative allows the director to play with the spectator’s expectations. Many spectators will assume, for instance, that Shinobi no Mono: Band of Assassins will depict the rivalry between Goemon Ichikawa (Raizo Ichikawa) and Yohachi (-). Yet, with Yohachi’s untimely death, this rivalry cannot blossom in a face-off.

Yet, Yohachi’s death is a narrative event that puts the spectator in touch with the dangers of blindly obeying traditional ways and radical alienating one’s subject by following the word of the father. His death illustrates the tragical and quite suicidal endpoint of the way of the ninja, of submissively following the strict prescriptions on how to act and how to be. To live as a ninja, one needs to erase oneself, as name, out of the larger societal field and, to die as a ninja, one needs to accept one’s non-existence – the radical disappearance of oneself as body and as name.     

The nihilistic endpoint of the ninja is also alluded to in the statement ‘to be ninja is to place the heart beneath the blade’. This creed, moreover, underlines most clearly the ascetic Buddhistic origin of the ninjutsu. Just like the ascetic monk, a ninja must refuse all selfish emotions (e.g. happiness, pride, love, … etc). Emotions are but obstacles that complicates the pious subjection to the Way Of Death – one needs to live and die in darkness – and the firm handling of the blade.

Yet, the demand to refuse emotions does not have enlightenment as its aim, but merely the obedience to the signifier of the father – subjectivity beneath obedience. However, the strict adherence to the prescriptions also forces some ninja to confront the void of their own subject, the meaninglessness of their hidden erased position within the greater societal field. In other words, if she subject fails to find his purpose in manipulating the cogs that run society from the shadows and serving the societal good as dictated by the master, he can only stare into the dark abyss of his own being and question the meaning of his violent acts.

Goemon, the hero of Shinobi no Mono: Band of Assassins, is someone who cannot part with his emotions; he is ambitious and confident in his own ninjutsu skills. Yet, what is even more threatening to his position as ninja is the fact he cannot control his own sexual desire. He shows little resistance in answering the sexual invitation by Sandayu’s sexually deprived wife Inone (Kyoko Kishida) and does not hesitate to start a relationship with prostitute Maki (Shiho Fujimura). Yet, Goemon’s turn to love and desire is not merely a sign of weakness – a failure to strictly follow the way of the ninja – but a way to avoid the possible encounter with the meaningless abyss of his own being. He seeks love and sexuality to give meaning to his life – meaning that the nihilistic Way of Death and the meek obedience to the word of the traditional father cannot provide.

Ultimately Shinobi no Mono: Band of Assassins depicts nothing other than the struggle between Goemon, who wants to live his life according to his desire, and Sandayu, who wants Goemon to radically submit himself to his fatherly command and alienate himself from his own subjectivity (Narra-note 1). In Satsuo Yamamoto’s narrative, the birth of the legend Goemon is masterfully exploited to stage the bankruptcy of the traditional father in post-war Japan (Narra-note 2).

The reliance on fluid dynamism to bring the narrative of Shinobi no Mono: Band of Assassins to life creates a visual rhythm that pulls the spectator into the narrative and keeps him engaged. The beautiful monochrome contrasts ensure that Yamamoto’s composition is full of moments of visual pleasure and some of his tracking shots succeed in attaining a nearly poetic quality.

Yet, the prime source of visual pleasure in Shinobi no Mono: Band of Assassins are the refined cat-like acrobatics (e.g. the high jumps, the rolls) that are fluidly interweaved into the rough brawls. However, the beauty of these elegant acts does not merely lie in the contrast with the crude fighting and shuriken throwing, but in their nearly other-worldly slowness.  

Shinobi no Mono: Band of Assassins is a classic jidai-geki. Yamamoto expertly utilizes the game of disguises, traps, gadgets, concealed passages, hidden stairs, and trapdoors, to offer an allegorical tale of the post-war subject’s conundrum. Goemon, whose image represents the post-war Japanese subject, is caught between the demand to adhere to strict alienating traditionalism and the societal and subjective treat of greedy capitalism. Can one, within such field of conflict, maintain what defines oneself as subject, one’s desire?

Notes

Narra-note 1: Sandayu, of course, has the upper hand. He ultimately grants Goemon a false choice: your desire or your beloved’s life. To save his wife and keep the possibility of a life of freedom open, he cannot but revoke his freedom and submit himself to Sandayu’s command.

Narra-note 2: The bankruptcy of the traditional father is also illustrated by the narrative’s finale, by Nobunaga’s act of antihalation.