Zatōichi Monogatari

Kazuo Mori had also directed four of the original Zatoichi films, as early as the series' first sequel (12 years prior). As such, this episode feels especially at home among the more morose, less campy entries in the series. The deaths and suffering are framed heavily here (much more so than they would have been on Western broadcast television at the time), and it's a pretty strong start in terms of stakes and tone.

Most Zatoichi stories can be broken down into two categories based on whether he's highly underestimated or if word of the  deadly blind masseur had preceded his arrival. I usually prefer the former, but this is definitely on the latter end of that spectrum.  (The next episode makes it look like we'll have a variety to look forward to though.)

This isn't my first time to start the series, so I'd seen this episode a couple of times in the past. It's a good one, and it sets promising expectations for the rest of this watch.

It's less of a road-trip story than it sounds. Most of the time is spent in town, establishing this week's players and stakes. As such, the actual journey ends up relegated to a third act montage.

As a director, Kuroda is known for his special effects (as seen in the very rad looking Yokai Monsters trilogy) and action sequences (showcased in the finale to the Lone Wolf and Cub film series). There aren't a whole lot of opportunities for either  here, but multiple scenes are presented in a visually striking way. One of note is the mid-slurp slaying of a group of would-be kidnappers at a starkly-lit, late-night noodle stand. 

Another choice that stuck with me here was the decision to make the crooked couple almost utterly unlikeable. That way, when Ichi does ultimately show generosity toward them, it further solidifies the character's gambler with a heart of gold appeal.

Katsu takes the director chair himself this go round, and we're treated to a quirky, heartfelt deviation from formula.

We start with a heavy implication that an elderly woman Ichi is talking to might actually be his (otherwise long-thought to have been deceased) mother. And just as you think that's going to be the main plot point… a group of hired ronin arrive and kill her off. Ichi manages to intervene (saving her adult son), but is abruptly interrupted when a bell rings, marking a 12-hour period of non-violence he observes each year on the anniversary of his mother's death. That vow is further complicated when he is eventually saved by one of the attacking ronin who'd been spared by that morning bell and later, when they paths with the daughter of one who hadn't been so lucky.

A strong recommend, this episode offers a rare sprinkling of Ichi's backstory, a charismatic, lead-worthy side character, and a multi-faceted critique of the web of vengeance. Plus, there's even a group of Any Which Way You Can-style buffoonish ruffians thrown in for laughs.

Probably among the most feel-good Zatoichi stories out there, this is a rare instance where everything works out in the end, and even Ichi leaves satisfied with the good he has done.

On top of that, there's an extremely humorous plot point in which a young conman (who goes through a full character arc of his own), keeps trying to hire Ichi, unaware of who he is, to impersonate himself.  As Ichi plays along, we get a great twist on the impersonator from 1965's Zatoichi and the Doomed Man, which, lo and behold, shares the same screenwriter! I'll have to keep an eye out for Asai's name in future credits.

Speaking of film alum, it's worth noting that this is the only episode to be directed by Kenji Misumi, the director of the first Zatoichi film (and five others, many of which consistently rank among the most well-regarded entries in the series. It is also sadly Misumi's final directing credit, as he would pass away the following year). away afterward Knowing that, I'm curious how much (if any) of the episode's sympathetic portrayal of the formerly imprisoned had been informed by the two and a half years he had spent as a prisoner of war in Serbia. For such an accomplished director, he (even among his generational peers) seems to have led an exceptionally challenging life.

An ongoing theme in the Zatoichi mythos is hardship following him wherever he goes and how he can't stick around without spreading that hardship around. That said, a lot of of the series' appeal is seeing him, through either skill or wit, solve otherwise unsolvable problems (like in last week's episode). Even when a tragedy can't be avoided, it usually hits when a loss in the B plot is necessary for a win in the A plot. 

This episode offers neither of the above. The victims of plot A are left a hair's breath away from being in the same situation Ichi had found them in to begin with, whereas those of plot B are left much, much worse. Lacking even the comic relief we'd been getting lately, The Heartless Man, Touched by Compassion is a real no-holds-barred punch to the gut…

…but it does give us the second arm flying off that we've seen so far, and a slightly more convincing hanafuda scene than what we saw in Episode Two.

Not too long into the episode, we learn that Ichi has killed the woman's brother, a kid who'd only entered crime to try to buy her her way out of a brothel contract. Zatoichi films typically average a kill count well into the dozens each, (most of them nameless, lineless goons). However, this sympathetic portrayal of sword fodder is similar to that seen in 1963's Zatoichi the Fugitive, which Hoshikawa also has a screenplay credit on. In both, an irresistibly large bounty on Ichi's head leads a below-average swordsman, desperate for the money to help a family member, find a quick and predictable death instead. Unlike the film, this episode goes a step further by having the kill happen offscreen, and one Ichi doesn't even remember.

I'd like to track down some of the writer's other work to see if these themes appear in them as well. The first six films in the Sleepy Eyes of Death series seem like they might be a good start?

There's also some light humor when Ichi works at the inn, great tension building as the assassin hired to kill him is also a guest there, and a pretty stunning climax that pits a swordless Ichi, amidst a muddy downpour, against a(nother) slew of goons. Although a little more show instead of tell for the assassin's build up would have been nice, he is the C-plot squeezed into this episode's 44-minute runtime, so it makes sense that it's done the way it's done.

Meet Hanpei Misawa, the Bird Keeper; a master swordsman who proudly claims to have never taken a life, but instead opts to fight poachers with a birdlime-tipped  length of bamboo (a sticky, often illegal, substance spread on branches to trap small birds). With his stoic, peaceful demeanor, the fluttering friends on his shoulder, and his unique weapon, this guy's basically an A-list Samurai Shodown or Last Blade character (who just happens to have only appeared on a single episode of a television program).

This is also the second story so far written by Ichiro Ikeda, (the other one being the dismally depressing Episode 5). At first, I was surprised that these two, such tonally opposite, takes came from the same writer. But it actually makes a lot of sense. Both are highly critical of Ichi's propensity for violence. Although that episode focused on failures despite his skill (i.e., being good at a bad thing will only lead to bad results); this one goes as far as to say he's not even that skilled to begin with by introducing a character who is so effective at solving conflicts that he does so without blood on his hands. That difference in growth is further echoed by Ichi's clumsy handling of a naive admirer, as he and Ichi look like bickering children compared to the calm and collected Misawa.

Between the extremely memorable ronin of the week, the makeup effects of the birdlime stuck to gangsters' hands and faces, and the deft characterization, A Bird Lands on Ichi makes the cut for any short list of must-see Zatoichi tales.

This might be the first Zatoichi story both directed and (at least co-)written by Shintaro Katsu himself (although the writing credit is under his real name, Toshio Okumura). We'll see more of both as the series progresses.

This episode in particular feels like the very early movies: light on schtick, heavy on the tragic nature of the character. At first, I found it rather drab, but looking back a few days after watching, it's grown on me. It lacks the comic relief that even the more tragic entries tend to have, nor does it try to tug as obviously on the heart strings as some of those do. Here, we have an Ichi who's almost, but not quite, desensitized to the futility of his efforts to intervene.

Interestingly, a scene in this episode is built around Ichi having to hide his face to avoid being recognized, whereas the premise of many episodes, (especially the very next one), relies on him being unrecognizable. I reckon the disconnected nature of these villages, and the time period the story takes place in, keeps this believable.