It’s the 16th century, and Japan is in chaos. Samurai clans engage each other in battle over who gets to rule the nation, while warlords call upon the ninja to spy on and assassinate their rivals. Goemon, an ambitious young member of a ninja family, is thrown into the turmoil of Japanese history when his village is wiped out by the forces of leading warlord Oda Nobunaga, who has sworn to eradicate the ninja in his quest for absolute power. Fueled by vengeance, Goemon uses every weapon in his arsenal to bring down Oda and to prove that a ninja is an army of one.
In 2024, it’s easy to hear a ninja’s tale, be told a story, and envision what that must be like. From the common settings to the classic look of the ninja that we all have in our minds, the ninja is a character type that we are all familiar with and have grown to love. But it wasn’t always so.
Japan. 1912. The first Japanese ninja movie, a short silent film called “The Tale of Gallant Jiraiya,” was released, and it set off a boom, with Japan releasing over 200 subsequent ninja films before the start of World War 2. The films varied in quality and reception, but one thing was sure: this was a soaring genre of Japanese cinema. As Japan began to rebuild from the ashes of World War 2, ninjas saw a resurgence, seeing another boom in Japan from the late 1950s to the mid-1960s. One big player in this resurgence was the Shinobi Trilogy, based on the Shinobi no Mono novels written by Tomoyoshi Murayama between 1960 and 1962 and arguably the most influential pieces of work in ninja cinema.
The series follows Goemon Ishikawa (played by Raizo Ichikawa, “The Japanese James Dean”), an ambitious and promising young ninja who is thought of even by his General as a natural successor. After growing entangled with the wife of his General, an event that ultimately leads to her demise, Goemon is banished from his village and sentenced to death. This sentence will be revoked if he manages to kill the brutal warlord Oba Nobunaga. What follows is an epic saga of love, betrayal, and revenge.
The first film in the trilogy, “A Band of Assassins,” is jarring in its purposefully convoluted portrayal of politics, placing its viewer in a state that often leaves us as confused as some of its characters on screen. It isn’t always clear who sides with who or who can be trusted, but that is the point, after all, and its execution is done with perfect precision, delivering a film that boasts plenty of action and ultimately serves to set us up for what’s coming next.
The second film, “Revenge,” takes the setup delivered in “A Band of Assassins” and delivers full throttle with more action, more stakes, stronger characters, and a ravaging display of violence that would hardly seem tame now, let alone for the time it was released. Goemon is more hardened by the start of this film, and what comes next, without spoilers, grimly shapes the character for the rest of his journey, filled with loss, triumphs, and failures.
The third, “Resurrection,” brings everything full circle, bringing in a new director who, in many ways, surpasses his predecessor, improving on the few shortcomings from the previous films (which we’ll delve into in a moment). The cinematography is more grounded, the performances more tired, and the film as a whole grittier than the previous two, if that’s even possible. Overall, while “A Band of Assassins” probably boasts the best script of the three, ” Resurrection ” stands to this reviewer as the best of the three.
So, what really works in these movies?
The Shinobi Trilogy is a perfect example of the hero’s journey, where our central protagonist begins as a jovial, ambitious, hopeful young ninja with stars in his eyes and a bright future ahead, only to find him as a hardened, somewhat jaded wanderer who still manages to hold together a semblance of hope. The violence is jarring at times, even by today’s standards, and the weaving of webs that go into the depiction of politics, deceit, loyalty, and betrayals are brilliantly handled. It’s never heavy-handed, always subtle, and always packs a punch. Its portrayal of the darkest hours of Feudal Japan is always unflinching and genuinely shocking at times.
One of the philosophies that I live and die by in cinema is that a truly great film must present a strong emotional core and that, if handled well, any other shortcomings can be forgiven if it is there. The one area where the Shinobi trilogy fails to deliver is in that very core. The depiction of Goemon’s wife and child is mostly glossed over, serving as plot devices rather than something that asks us to care. Even significant events that won’t be spoiled here seem like they should carry more weight, but you rarely feel their full impact other than to drive the plot forward. This is rectified in “Resurrection,” where emotional moments are allowed to land, and everything seems more grounded, but by this point, it’s almost too little too late. This may have been a perfect trilogy if they had been more appropriately handled in the first two installments.
Still, there’s much to love, and anybody who loves to dive into classic cinema will surely find themselves engrossed in this tale. With the introduction of the graceful ninja movements, throwing shurikens, and the classic ninja outfit, all cinephiles should smile when they understand the profound influence this trilogy has had on so much of the cinema we know and love today. While I’m almost always against the idea of remakes, I can’t help but wonder what an updated trilogy might look like with today’s technological advances and a script and director who acknowledges the minimal flaws that I’ve mentioned.
We should always be thankful to companies like Radiance, who bring such loving attention to films like this that may otherwise be lost to time. They keep cinema alive by allowing even more eyes to fall upon these classics. How fortunate we are to have them.
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