Shogun's Ninja

Not every film is the result of personal artistic expression. Sometimes it’s difficult to disguise all the cooks in the kitchen juggling studio demands, passing fads and budgetary constraints. Shogun’s Ninja (1980) was released during a particularly tenuous time for Japanese cinema, with homegrown productions fighting for attention against Hollywood hits, the Hong Kong action craze and episodic television. That being the case, it winds up as one crazy grab bag of traditional chanbara, Jackie Chan-inspired stunts and desperate trend-chasing that appeals to no one – and everyone – at the same time!

Set during the Warring States period of feudal Japan, Takamaru (Hiroyuki Sanada) returns from exile in China to extract his pound of flesh from Shiranui Shogen (Sonny Chiba), who murdered his family in bloody clan warfare. He’s joined by a cadre of surviving childhood friends and the daughter of a Shaolin monk who followed him on the journey back. But Takamaru’s training hasn’t prepared him for the political backstabbing and ninja trickery lying in wait to thwart his long-awaited plan.

Although credited to director Norifumi Suzuki, Shogun’s Ninja looks like the product of about three different filmmakers. Blending the studied compositions of chanbara classics with a more modern handheld, zoom-crazy free-for-all, the film simply refuses to pick a lane, which is what makes it all the more entertaining 45 years later. The biggest change-up is the fighting style itself, which combines the acrobatics of Hong Kong martial arts with an endless parade of stunts provided by Sonny Chiba’s Japan Action Club. It’s a blatant “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” mindset that’s loads of fun to watch as performers fall from scenic temples, race like spiders up bamboo stalks and twirl nunchucks with reckless abandon.

A product of the success of Kinji Fukasaku’s Shogun’s Samurai (1978), Suzuki’s film also plays things fast and loose, populating its story with actual historical figures and events but weaving a new narrative throughout. In his first leading role, Hiroyuki Sanada (now a well-established international star) manages to convincingly pull off his humorless Jackie Chan impression, while Chiba glares menacingly into the camera. It’s all glorified nonsense with an eye for box office appeal and not much else. But sometimes you just want a movie that’s so eager to please it becomes impossible to resist.

Arrow’s limited-edition Blu-ray doesn’t mention any specific restoration but looks terrific all the same. Extras include a new audio commentary from Asian cinema expert Chris Poggiali and a slow-paced but informative featurette on Japanese films from the era hosted by Clement Rauger. Plus a collector’s booklet and reversible sleeve with new artwork.