I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 164 The Film Critics' Shock! Is this a film about samurai? It's about Bushido!

In Shinjuku, Tokyo, this long-established movie theater is bustling with people at its entrance.

In a corner of the movie theater lobby, five figures stood out from the crowd.

They were dressed in suits and ties, with serious expressions, showing no signs of being affected by the festive atmosphere. Instead, they exuded a cold and aloof aura that kept people at a distance.

They are a team of senior film critics from Kinema Junpo, known in the industry for their rigorous taste and sharp writing.

Leading the group was Kenta Tanaka, a strict man over fifty years old with his hair meticulously combed.

His eyes were sharp, as if he could see through the truth or falsehood of any movie at a glance.

"Tanaka-senpai, look over there."

Young film critic Hiroyuki Suzuki pointed to the huge poster for "The Samurai of the Cherry Blossom Tree" and the young girls screaming in front of it, his tone tinged with disdain: "As expected, idols reign supreme. Those little girls can pack the cinema to bursting just for their faces."

Ichiro Sato, a film critic in his forties with a slightly overweight build and a perpetually sarcastic smile, scoffed, "There's nothing we can do about it; it's the law of the market. The more developed the economy, the more popular those idol stars who can't do anything are. After all, appreciating art requires a certain level of sophistication, but swooning over a pretty face doesn't."

"I think this movie, 'The Samurai of the Cherry Blossom Tree,' will probably be another one of those terrible movies where the visuals are nice but the plot is a complete mess."

The only female film critic, Mieko Kato, echoed this sentiment. Dressed in a well-tailored black coat, her eyes were filled with exhaustion: "I really don't know what those producers are thinking. Spending hundreds of millions to hire a bunch of pretty faces to act is not as good as investing the money in truly talented directors."

"Okay, just say a few words."

Kenta Tanaka finally spoke, his voice tinged with impatience: "We didn't come here today to see those idols. Even though it's Christmas, we still have to submit our articles for the newspaper tomorrow, and we have no choice but to suffer here for that little bit of pay."

He paused, his gaze falling on the poster for "Seven Samurai," his eyes deep.

"However, that 'Seven Samurai' movie... is quite interesting." Kenta Tanaka pushed up his glasses, his tone tinged with curiosity. "Director Kurosawa's name, plus Hiroshi Nohara, that young man who's been making headlines lately... I heard the entire film industry is waiting for reviews of this movie tomorrow. The bigger the controversy, the more worthwhile it is for us to see. Let's go, buy tickets and go in."

Upon hearing this, the others exchanged knowing smiles.

They are professional film critics, and naturally they scoff at those idol movies.

But they have an almost obsessive passion for films that are controversial and generate a lot of buzz.

After all, only films like these can stir up a storm in their writing and allow them to showcase their unique and "sharp" eye to their peers.

The group arrived at the ticket office, bought movie tickets, and then headed towards the ticket gate.

"Ok?"

Just as Kenta Tanaka was about to hand the ticket to the ticket inspector, he suddenly caught a glimpse of three familiar figures out of the corner of his eye.

The three people were all wearing masks and hats, keeping their bodies low, and were standing discreetly at the back of the line.

One of them was tall and had a refined demeanor, while the other was thin but had an upright posture, like a silent mountain.

The young man walking in the very center... Although he was wearing a hat and a mask, his composed demeanor and his deep eyes, which could not be concealed even when covered, made Tanaka Kenta's heart involuntarily clench.

Nohara Hiroshi?

And...Deputy Director Asumi? And...Director Kurosawa?!

Kenta Tanaka's body stiffened slightly, and he subconsciously stopped in his tracks.

"Tanaka-senpai, what's wrong?" Suzuki asked, puzzled.

Kenta Tanaka shook his head, a thoughtful smile appearing on his face: "It's nothing, maybe I was mistaken. Let's go inside."

He handed the movie ticket to the ticket collector, then strode heavily into the dark space where the miracle was about to unfold.

……

Inside the movie theater, the lights gradually dimmed, and the noisy discussions subsided.

Light and shadow flowed across the giant screen.

Accompanied by a drumbeat filled with tragedy and a sense of destiny, a series of scenes depicting the devastation ravaged by war were presented to all the audience.

That was the opening scene of Seven Samurai.

The movie begins.

Inside the theater, for a short time, only the occasional, suppressed gasps and the focused gazes of viewers completely captivated by the film's visuals, unable to look away.

Kenta Tanaka and his group were also completely captivated by the unique charm of the film within ten minutes of its opening.

The film's opening, like an ink wash painting, presents the audience with the turbulent land of the late Warring States period.

The bandits' iron hooves, like a black tide, relentlessly crushed the unarmed farmers time and time again.

They were ragged and had blank stares, like a herd of domesticated livestock, trembling under the threat of death.

"This...this opening is a bit depressing," Suzuki Hiroshi muttered unconsciously.

However, the scene changed as soon as he finished speaking.

The down-on-his-luck samurai, Shimada Kanbei, shaved off his samurai-style topknot and disguised himself as a monk to save a child, completing the rescue in a manner that was almost humiliating.

Moreover, his unwavering composure afterward, and the deep compassion hidden in his eyes, brought the character to life!
“This samurai…is interesting.” Sato Ichiro’s eyes lit up. He saw in this character a human brilliance that transcended the traditional image of a samurai.

Or rather, this is the positive image of a samurai that everyone recognizes today!

Then, one after another, vivid characters, seemingly able to transcend the screen, appeared on stage.

Kyuzo, a samurai who dedicated his life to pursuing the ultimate swordsmanship.

He was taciturn, but his swordsmanship was divine.

The moment he appeared, he defeated two arrogant ronin with a bamboo stick in the blink of an eye. His calmness and strength caused a collective gasp to rise in the theater!
"The action scenes... crisp and clean, without any unnecessary dragging! They're textbook perfect!" Kato Mieko exclaimed in a low voice. She had originally thought this would be a dull art film, but she was surprised by how amazing the opening was.

Always cheerful, Hayashida Heihachi can defuse his companions' tension with a joke even when in dire straits.

His optimism and open-mindedness, like a ray of sunshine, pierced through the gloom at the beginning of the film, bringing a rare sense of ease to the audience.

Katayama Gorobei is a master of military strategy, seemingly mercenary but actually full of wisdom.

His composed and strategic demeanor revealed to the audience a deeper level of wisdom beyond mere martial prowess.

And then there's Okamoto Katsushiro, a young samurai of noble birth, yet naive and innocent, who harbors the purest yearning for the samurai spirit.

His naiveté and idealism added a rare touch of warmth to this tragic story.

Each character is like a sharply defined piece of a jigsaw puzzle, together constructing a portrait of the "samurai" class, full of glory and tragedy.

However, what truly sent chills down everyone's spine was the controversial and contradictory imposter—Kikuchiyo.

He was a character who, upon his first appearance, displayed a rude attitude, a lecherous nature, and a penchant for boasting and bragging, possessing a base and despicable character that was immediately apparent.

Furthermore, according to the movie's plot, they also learned that this was just someone who used a forged family tree and a stolen samurai sword to force his way into a team that didn't belong to him.

He was like a clown who had broken into a sacred temple, pretending to be a warrior with his ridiculous and clumsy performance.

"This character... is so subversive!" Suzuki Hiroyuki's eyes widened. He had never imagined that such an "outlier" would appear in a samurai film.

“Yes… he’s practically defiling the ‘Bushido’!” Sato Ichiro’s brows furrowed slightly. As a traditional film critic, he instinctively felt uncomfortable with this kind of “unorthodox” character setting.

However, Kenta Tanaka simply stared silently at the screen. His eyes grew brighter and brighter, and all the disdain and fatigue on his face faded away, replaced by a focused expression.

From his professional perspective, he could guess that this Kikuchiyo was far more than just a simple "clown".

He must be hiding this story within himself, its deepest and most cruel core.

As the film progresses into its middle stages, the samurai begin training farmers and constructing fortifications.

The scene gradually transforms from oppressive darkness into a vibrant display of hope.

Under the tutelage of the warriors, the farmers took up arms and learned to fight. Their eyes were no longer numb, but gradually filled with a desire to survive.

However, this brief peace and hope was shattered when the bandits attacked again!
The rain poured down, and the whole world seemed to be shrouded in a gray despair.

The bandits' iron hooves, like a black tide, repeatedly crashed against the fragile defense line built of flesh and blood.

The warriors fought in the mud and fell in the firelight.

Hayashida Heihachi, the always cheerful man, was pierced by several spears while covering his comrades. Even in his dying moments, he still wore that familiar, warm smile on his face.

Kyuzo, the man who dedicated his life to the pursuit of swordsmanship, was shot by a musket while protecting Katsushiro. When he fell, there was no fear in his eyes, only a faint regret that he had not been able to fight a stronger opponent.

Death is like the falling leaves in autumn, coming fiercely and filled with a tragic sense of destiny.

This scene was filmed exceptionally well.

The pace is also extremely fast.

It barely allows any viewer the opportunity to think for themselves, forcing them to simply follow the rapidly unfolding plot on screen. In the theater, the audience held their breath; some, more emotional, even began silently wiping away tears.

In that blood-soaked battlefield, the imposter Kikuchiyo, once despised by everyone, unleashed an unprecedented and chilling energy, like a wild beast that had been thoroughly enraged!
He watched his companions fall one by one, and saw the humanity that the farmers he had once despised shone through as they fought to protect their homes. For the first time, a raging fire, big enough to start a wildfire, ignited in his eyes, which were always filled with cunning and desire!

He no longer fights for that false glory.

He fought to protect those who were weaker than him!

As he raised his flag high, facing the bandit leader's muskets, he let out a deafening roar, ultimately perishing alongside the enemy...

The entire deliberation room fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone held their breath, and on their faces, which were filled with shock, only awe remained!
As the film nears its end, the bandits are wiped out, and the village is saved.

The surviving farmers sang and danced on the blood-soaked land, celebrating their hard-won harvest.

The cheerful singing contrasted sharply with the four solitary graves on the hillside, each with a samurai sword stuck in its socket, creating a stark and ironic scene.

Kanbei, who survived, looked at the jubilant field and slowly uttered that cruel line that would make all heroic narratives pale in comparison.

"We lost again; the farmers won."

Next came the line that was taken out of context at the press conference, causing a huge uproar—

"What do you take farmers for? Do you think they're bodhisattvas? It's a joke! Farmers are the most cunning. If you ask for rice, they won't give you rice; if you ask for wheat, they'll say they don't have any. But actually, they have everything. Lift up the floorboards and look. They're either underground or in the storage room. You'll definitely find a lot of things: rice, salt, beans, wine... Go deep into the valley and look. There are hidden rice paddies! They seem honest on the surface, but they're the best liars. They'll lie about anything! When there's a war, they'll kill the wounded soldiers and steal their weapons. Listen to this: the so-called farmers are the stingiest, the most cunning, the cowardly, the wicked, the incompetent, the murderers!"

"But who made them like this?"

"It's you, you warriors, all of you, die! Burning villages, ravaging fields, forcing labor, abusing women, killing those who resist—what are you expecting the peasants to do? What are they supposed to do?!"

When this argument, full of dialectical irony, resounded from the screen in Kikuchiyo's rough yet powerful voice...

In the theater, everyone finally understood.

They finally understood what Hiroshi Nohara meant by the "Easter egg" at the press conference.

They understood the film's true, profound message: it transcends class, good and evil, and speaks directly to human nature!
The lights come on.

The three-and-a-half-hour movie has ended.

The theater was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone sat there in a daze, their faces filled with shock, awe, and a numbness as if their worldviews had been completely overturned.

After a long while, a suppressed sigh finally broke out.

"...This...is this really a movie that humans can make?" Suzuki Hiroyuki's voice trembled slightly.

His young face now showed only a pallor born from being utterly conquered by art.

"A masterpiece...this is simply a masterpiece!" Kato Mieko slowly took off her glasses and wiped away the uncontrollable moisture from the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand.

Her voice trembled slightly, barely suppressed: "I...I've been watching movies for almost thirty years. I never imagined that a story about a samurai could be told so...magnificently, and so deeply movingly!"

“Yes!” Sato Ichiro nodded emphatically, his usually critical face now filled with heartfelt admiration: “This is no longer a simple samurai film! This is deconstructing ‘class’ and ‘humanity’! Deconstructing the era!”

“Especially that Kikuchiyo!” Suzuki Hiroyuki exclaimed, his face flushed with excitement. “Even though he’s an imposter, he embodies the ‘samurai spirit’ more than any real samurai! He showed us that the so-called ‘bushido’ is never determined by status, but by the ‘heart’! This… this is simply… a stroke of genius!”

Praise poured in like a tidal wave!

Kenta Tanaka, the chief film critic for Kinema Junpo, simply sat there in silence.

In his eyes, which had witnessed countless ups and downs of life, all contempt and disdain had faded, leaving only a deep sense of shock and awe!
He recalled what Hiroshi Nohara had said at the press conference.

"We always talk about samurai, about farmers, about so-called elites, about so-called commoners. But we overlook the one who truly determines the fate of all of them, the ultimate and only protagonist."

That is, the times.

"The end of the samurai era was not because they were not elite enough. Rather, it was because the advent of the musket allowed even a well-trained peasant to easily kill a samurai who had practiced swordsmanship for twenty years. This was a victory of technology, a victory of productivity, and a victory of the times."

"The arrival of the common people's era did not happen overnight. It evolved into the national era we have today, where everyone is equal and everyone has the opportunity to change their own destiny. This, too, is progress of the times."

“Each of us, whether so-called ‘elites’ or so-called ‘commoners,’ is nothing more than an insignificant ripple in the tide of this era.”

"What we can do is not to complain about the rigidity of class structure, nor to be envious of the success of others. Instead, we should, like me, seize every opportunity that this era has given us to change our own destiny."

At the time, he thought Hiroshi Nohara was making excuses.

That's a fallacy of misrepresentation.

But now, he has seen the movie with his own eyes.

He finally understood...

That young man wasn't making excuses.

He is illustrating a simple truth that has been repeatedly proven by history!
He wasn't trying to change the subject.

He was using a perspective that transcended time and class, reaching the deepest understanding of human nature.

Let's re-examine our nation and that tragic destiny that has long been ingrained in our bones!
Kenta Tanaka slowly stood up and walked to the exit of the theater.

His gaze calmly swept over the audience members who sat there, equally stunned, their faces filled with shock.

Then I remembered the three figures I saw at the ticket gate.

He finally understood.

That young man wasn't manipulating public opinion.

He used the most ingenious methods that only a monster who truly understands the times and human nature could employ to pave a path to the "altar" for this film!

Every word he uttered and every action he took was merely a small foreshadowing in his grand narrative!

"Let's go." Kenta Tanaka's voice carried an unprecedented weariness, yet it also contained a deep sense of relief, as if he had been thoroughly cleansed.

"We...should go back and write our manuscript."

His voice was soft, yet it clearly reached the ears of his companions behind him, who were equally stunned by the film and speechless.

"Tanaka-senpai, how... how do you plan to write it?" Suzuki asked cautiously.

Kenta Tanaka didn't speak; he simply turned around slowly, a complex smile appearing on his face.

"I'm planning to……"

"I plan to write a film review about 'miracle'."

"A miracle—how a 23-year-old single-handedly overturned the entire Japanese film industry and even the whole society!"

These words stunned the other four film critics.

They looked at Kenta Tanaka with eyes filled with disbelief and horror.

They knew that this man, who was always extremely strict, was not joking.

That's really what he thought.

And since they've said it, they definitely intend to do it!

He was announcing the end of an era.

He was welcoming the arrival of a brand new era that belonged only to that young man!
"..." Everyone else was silent, their minds still replaying the plot and those classic lines, and their breathing became increasingly rapid.

They discovered that this was neither an ordinary samurai film nor a martial arts film.

It's not a... Bushido movie!
A film that transcends the ordinary samurai, focusing on what Bushido is, what era it represents, and what it means to explain the concept of "the Way"!

"The wind is rising," a film critic said slowly, his tone filled with heartfelt emotion.

The others did not deny it; they all nodded in agreement.

Because they all believe that this is indeed the case!

"Wait!" Suzuki Hiroyuki suddenly remembered something, and looking at the poster for another period samurai film next to the movie theater, he shouted, "No, we can't leave! We have other tasks! Don't forget, we still need to review 'The Samurai of the Cherry Blossom Tree'!"

Kenta Tanaka had been eager to get home and write his manuscript, wanting to fully express his excitement in words, when he paused slightly in his tracks.

Remembering what the president told me, I had to go see "The Samurai of the Cherry Blossom Tree".

He couldn't help but frown, but still managed to suppress his urges and say, "Yeah, that's true. Since the club president has given the order, let's go take a look."

So he led everyone around and headed towards the ticket counter in the adjacent theater.

(End of this chapter)