
Hara-Kiri is a remake of a 1962 black-and-white Japanese classic of the same name. The story focuses on the 17th century, a time when feudal Japan was in a state of flux, and as the movie opens, many samurai warriors have been left without masters or any means of support. Some begin to practice what’s called “the suicide bluff,” showing up at a noble household and asking if they can use the courtyard to commit hara-kiri (or ritual suicide). Not wanting a fuss, the master of the house usually gives the samurai a few coins, a meal, or an odd-job before sending him on his way. The house of Lord Ii has been the victim of countless such bluffs, and when the master’s away, the retainer and other staff cruelly decide to make a young bluffer carry out his stated intention. The plot thickens when the bluffer’s adoptive father, a true old-school hardcore samurai, comes back for revenge.
The plot builds towards a great final action scene in a snowy courtyard, but the bulk of the film is quiet and understated. Traditional Japanese interiors are shot with a lingering, loving, nostalgic eye that catches lush detail and a quiet sense of drama. The remade story—it involves a couple flashbacks so it requires some attention—is surprising in its new focus on domesticity. What Miike has added is a more fleshed-out version of the samurais’ home life (I told you it was shocking). It all veers dangerously close to the sentimental, but the shift is successful in adding a more contemporary sense of personal investment: we understand what’s at stake and the exact nature of the revenge.Ebizo Ichikawa brings a rich, slow-burning pain, a quiet fury that’s on a slow simmer, to his role as the vengeful samurai. Some will find the deliberate measured pace of the film a bit too ponderous, but those who go along for the ride won’t be disappointed. It’s a fascinating and tense glimpse into the minute distinctions which made up the code of honor of the then-disappearing world of the samurai.