Based on a relatively little-known manga series by Yu Koyama, the Azumi films follow the life of a female assassin who grows up in the war-torn era of the Japanese Shogunate. To date there have been two films, both starring Jpop artist Aya Ueto; the first was directed by Ryuhei Kitamura and the second by Shusuke Kaneko.
Azumi
A young orphan girl is taken in by a mysterious martial arts master who trains her and her adoptive companions to be master assassins. They are given the task of taking out a group of war-mongering warlords who threaten to bring the country into civil war but before their master allows them to embark on their mission, he sets his students the task of pairing up and fighting to the death. What follows is the gruelling journey Azumi and her remaining companions take to restore peace through the use of their advanced skills in combat.
An opening scene of a child plucked from cetain death to be trained as an elite killer isn’t the most original premise of the martial arts genre but after the ‘final test’ set by the master Azumi immediately sets itself apart in a crowded niche. The act of killing one’s best friend, after years of training and growing up together, is the first of many genuinely emotional moments that punctuate the film’s brutal and expertly choreographed action scenes, of which there is an impressive number.
The emotional journey taken by the heroine, as she loses friends, meets new ones and learns about the outside world after a sheltered youth of training, is remarkably well-written and demonstrates the moral ambiguity that comes from quelling violence through violence. Ueto’s performance struck me as a little timid and unsure of herself when unarmed, which had the (possibly unintentional) effect of portraying a trained killer who is at the same time very human; she contantly questions the validity of what she is doing. Not all of the warlords on the hit list appear to be entirely bad either, which adds an extra dimension to a film that could so easily have been another mindless gore-fest.
Azumi’s companions are an interesting enough bunch, but sadly few of them linger any longer in the memory than their stereotypes are expected to. Perhaps not surprisingly, it is the bishounen bad guy Bijomaru, clad in white with a flower in one hand and a guardless katana in the other, who is utterly mesmerising to watch because he is so unhinged, distinctive and nigh-on unbeatable in battle. The ending sequence is also gleefully over-the-top, with generic opponents, explosions (yes, explosions) and epic showdowns galore.
The soundtrack is a heady mixture of classical Japanese folk and energetic modern guitar-driven fare, which for the most part strikes a nice balance. No small amount of credit should also go to Versus’s Ryuhei Kitamura, who makes use of dizzying camera angles to breathe life into the hackneyed concept of hand-to-hand swordplay and keep the story moving during an unusually long running-time. As with the juxtaposition of violence and conscience, the blood and shining steel is delivered by a harmless-looking and photogenic heroine in front of a quite beautiful and picturesque backdrop of rural Japan that is in stark contrast to its uncomprimising and violent premise.
In Summary
Kitamura’s contribution to the Azumi franchise is an aesthetically impressive and surprisingly character-driven take on the well-worn concepts of historical martial arts films. The pacing for a film of this length isn’t bad either, so for fans of the action-packed sword-weilding fare will find this to be an exhilerating and outstanding example of its type.
NOTE: The review for Azumi 2: Death or Love is to follow soon.
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