Zatoichi (2003, Takeshi Kitano) (Patreon)

67/100

Second viewing, down from 71. The reason for my original modest over-generosity can be found in the drive-by that I "filed" from TIFF '03 :

Most of my reservations about Kitano involve his limitations as an actor, which is why Kids Return had previously been my favorite of his films. Let's face it, though, the guy can play this role with his eyes closed. (Sorry.) Weightless and choppy, but also thrillingly dynamic and oddly effervescent; it's probably as close as Kitano will ever come to making a full-blown musical, and the celebratory finale sent me out the door on a high that hasn't yet worn off. How NYFF could have wanted Brother but not this is beyond my comprehension.

Nearly two decades later, the climactic eruption into dance (which eventually incorporates most of the principal cast, giving it a curtain-call feel; Kitano even morphs in the kids from the flashbacks) was all I really remembered. Didn't have the same boisterous effect at home, and I was surprised to find that the number—a spontaneous hoedown in my memory, as anti-naturalistic as the early rhythmic men-at-work montage—is in fact semi-diegetic, staged at some sort of village festival. How a film ends exerts a large, perhaps undue influence on how I feel about it, and I've basically deducted the bonus points I'd added back when a big goofy grin was still plastered on my face. Movie as a whole's still quite good, though, holding its own vs. The Tale of Zatoichi (which I hadn't yet seen in '03; the other 24 are on my mammoth Criterions-to-watch list). The stillness/ferocity dynamic seems lifted from Sanjuro (unseen by me until 2005), but gains extra tension and resonance when the hero's prowess depends upon his (frankly superhuman) ability to extrapolate others' movement from the smallest sound. Offbeat narrative structure declines to make the film anyone's story in particular, having Zatoichi  serve a standard ronin function (see also Eastwood's Man With No Name, a transplanted ronin) but dividing his attention among the vengeful siblings, the hapless gambler, and the bad guys' remarkably sympathetic enforcer-for-hire, who gets poignant flashbacks and comprehensible motivations of his own. And in lieu of Joe Hisaishi's usual treacle (apologies, fans), Zatoichi features a deliberately anachronistic score by Keiichi Suzuki that counterintuitively blends synths and percussion to evocative effect. Blatantly digital blood spurts were once again initially off-putting but ultimately felt of a piece with Kitano's heavily stylized approach. Yeah, Outrage played in Cannes Comp., but this was still more or less his last gasp as a director to whom attention must be paid. It's been weird self-indulgence and numbing ultra-violence ever since. 

ANAL-RETENTIVE TITLE CORNER: I'd had this filed as The Blind Swordsman: Zatoichi since its U.S. theatrical release, as that's what Miramax called it throughout their marketing. But apparently I neglected to check the one-sheet's fine print (generally what I go with when there's any ambiguity), which just says Zatoichi. That's also what TIFF printed in its program(me) book(ke), so I've re-alphabetized it accordingly.