Lady Snowblood (1973) is called the biggest “inspiration” for Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill films.
But this is nobody’s stepping stone. The pulpy, blood-spattering, heart-in-mouth revenge tale carries an inimitable cinematic swagger and plenty of kickass.
And whatever its influence on future works, its roots are manga royalty.
Lady Snowblood is adapted from the manga of the same name, illustrated by Kazuo Kamimura and written by the Kazuo Koike.
For the unaware, Koike is the author of the legendary, it belongs in a museum, once-a-generation epic manga Lone Wolf and Cub (also adapted into the celebrated films that together are credited with helping to spread Japanese culture globally).
But street cred and a hype machine aren’t why the folks over at Criterion and Janus Films added the movie to their collections. You don’t get film’s most reliable rubber stamps with eye-catching letters of rec – you need your own creative feats.
Still, like Walter Hill’s The Driver, some classic films enchant directors but set modern audiences yawning.
Yet this film’s artistry transcends its simple boiling vendetta into a vicious spectacle that works on either end of the audience spectrum – those after kickback fun and those who want to stick around and discuss.
So what makes Lady Snowblood a good movie?
The Plot of Lady Snowblood:
In 1874, in a women’s prison, inmate Sayo Kashima (Miyoko Akaza), near death, gives birth to a baby girl, Yuki (Meiko Kaji).
As Sayo passes, she reveals how she ended up in prison: the dark tale of her attempted revenge against a group that raped her and killed her husband.
With her dying words, she demands the child be raised to take vengeance on the three remaining assailants.
Now 20, can the demon child Yuki finish her parents’ revenge?
Note: Yuki translates to “Snow” in English
The Rest of the Main Cast Includes:
- Kō Nishimura as Dōkai the priest
- Toshio Kurosawa as Ryūrei Ashio
- Masaaki Daimon as Gō Kashima
- Sanae Nakahara as Okono Kitahama
- Eiji Okada as Gishirō Tsukamoto
- Mayumi Maemura as young Yuki
- Noboru Nakaya as Banzō Takemura
- Hitoshi Takagi as Matsuemon
- Takeo Chii as Shokei Tokuichi
- Akemi Negishi as Tajire no Okiku
- Yoshiko Nakada as Kobue Takemura
- Rinichi Yamamoto as Maruyama
The Good Things:
Imagery to Die to, + 10 points
The cinematography has those distinctly Japanese film and manga flavors.
In the opening sequence, we get a shot above Yuki’s parasol, building the mystery of who could be beneath it.
As she walks, we get a close-up of her sandals stopping suddenly, crunching in the snow. We pause as she slips into silent concentration, a group approaching as she steadies herself for battle.
And the film uses plenty of snap zooms (when the camera starts out but rapidly flies way, wayyyy in).
These fun genre staples maximize little moments, but the film leaves room for more inventive pieces.
There’s a shot Kill Bill fans will recognize, Sayo’s point of view of her four attackers looming over her. But the film edits them into the frame later, fading the assailants in with a coat of sepia, reminding us what’s on Yuki’s mind at a pivotal moment.
But if this film has a distinct visual approach, it’s the intimacy of this revenge tale.
There’s a lot of handheld camera, keeping the audience’s point of view amid the conversation or fighting.
Like a samurai or gunslinger flick, there are many close-ups of the film’s MVP, Meiko Kaji’s wild eyes (blazing with the intensity of a mother-in-law who just discovered her daughter is taking back up with that no good, jobless sonuva bitch again).
And to add atmosphere, plenty of tantalizing snow is in the air, twinkling mystically about like her calling card.
As blood spatters, limbs topple, and eyes glare, there’s an elegance, a living painting quality, to this spectacle of revenge.
Theatrical Flavor, +8 points
A Jidaigeki (period drama) film, the movie is set in 1874-94, Japan’s early Meiji period.
I think of Japanese action period movies as I do our American Wild West fantasies. Though it’s blades, not bullets, that win the day.
The film stands within that mythical spirit, never straying into wacky territory. But the exaggerated nature of its performances and staging delights.
From her opening hit job to the masquerade party of the final act, we’re never standing in flat reality. A group is felled by one lone, agile woman; a target and assassin play out a secret cat-and-mouse game amongst the partygoers.
But even in what could be its dull moments, the film finds more than flat exposition.
Yuki goes to meet the lord of the beggars, Matsuemon. We follow her as she walks among the street urchins cowling around her. Her elegant white outfit and poise are contrasted by the dingy, crawling men at her feet. She is like the beautiful demon – not from here, nor anywhere.
Then we have the fountains of bordering-on-silly blood. The liquid is all-too red in cartoony, Kool-Aid colors, bursting from squibs. Every death is a gradual fading from the light, not a quick passing.
A Simple Plot that Expands, +2 Points
The film is a basic revenge tale, but it finds a few more layers than just rolling down the curtains when Yuki checks off every name on her hit list in red.
Without spoiling things, I picked up a loose thread that later expanded into something much more meaningful between the characters, helping to deepen things as Yuki’s quest continues.
And we’re not without a twist or two before the credits roll.
The Dark Buddha, + 1 Point
In what strikes me as a small meditation on Buddhism, the movie contemplates the merits of revenge.
Yuki was born a demon, but is it her obligation to carry out her mother’s vendetta if it destroys her?
And in taking her revenge, she knowingly harms the loved ones of her targets, bringing consequences.
Is she securing justice or just spreading more harm?
Spicy Killing Shows, +3 points
The battles are not samurai sword duels between evenly matched opponents going out honorably. They are killings, Yuki striking down her opponents with a long knife.
But the drama surprised me. The villains, waiting for Yuki, have a few tricks to pull. They don’t stand in an open field, welcoming her advance. Like the treacherous lot they are, they get crafty, which changes the game.
And the final battle, which I refuse to ruin, becomes downright Shakespearian.
Fitting Theme, +1 Point
Being a singer, lead actress Meiko Kaji also sang the moody theme from the film, Shura no Hana, “Flower of Carnage.”
It’s a theme like Yuki: beautiful and majestic but with a cutting edge.
The Not-as-Good Things:
Master of Barrels, -2 points
**Minor Spoiler Alert**
Rocky had to catch a chicken to increase his agility, but they go harder in Japan.
It’s seemingly obligatory that a samurai or martial arts film includes a training sequence with a no doubt harsh and uncompromising master (unless he’s the Mr. Rodgers of masters, Mr. Miyagi of Karate Kid).
You can count on these teachers to push their pupils hard with sessions bordering on child abuse. Still, this movie’s brand of toughening up the student is comically bizarre.
It starts out low-key. We watch Yuki, 8, wandering around beating the shit out of flowers with a stick, presumably to improve her aim. Watching the little girl take her anger out on the buds is cute.
Another test is when she squares off naked and unarmed against her master, Dōkai, who pokes at her with a sharp sword. These little skirmishes are dangerous. Dōkai isn’t afraid to land a scratch on Yuki that draws blood. But you imagine this is her way to put aside her fears and evolve a determined spirit.
But then there’s Yuki’s ultimate test: the barrel roll (no, not the Starfox kind).
Dōkai demands Yuki tuck her prepubescent body into a wooden barrel and, by pressing hard against the sides, stay in no matter what. He kicks the barrel down a steep slope, aiming for the large rocks in the way. When the barrel smacks one of them, she’s flung out hysterically, flying for several feet.
But things get more laughable when she levels up in this game of Donkey Kong-style punishment.
Dōkai stands determined at the bottom of the slope, sword drawn, as Yuki literally barrels toward him. He slices the barrel in half, presumably chopping her in two. But before she’s diced, Yuki inexplicably pops out, flying through the air and, like a spring-loaded gymnast, sticks her landing.
I’ve no clue how this live-action jack-in-the-box game prepares her to swordfight, and it nearly plunges the film into camp.
But in hindsight, this may not be a negative, as I (almost) enjoy the film more for these bizarre minutes.
Early Pacing, -2 points
Chapters one and two (there are four total), up to about the first ~50 minutes of runtime or so, can’t match the forward momentum of three and four.
The first two parts are at a disadvantage here. A lot of exposition is needed, which can’t be cut (and does pay off later). And there’s some action mixed in to keep your interest.
But there’s a definitive forward energy to the movie’s second half over the first.
Go Watch Lady Snowblood
Total Arbitrary Points Score: 21 Points
You can enjoy Lady Snowblood as a straightforward Japanese period piece of swashbuckling revenge, but this on-paper genre film smacks higher.
With its striking cinematic quality and theatrics, each scene’s composition is an arresting photograph – one it’s all too happy to spray gallons of cartoon blood over.
Its plot finds more gears than you’d think, and it quietly contemplates the cyclical nature of violence. Its fight scenes are more vengefully stylistic than pulse-pounding, and its theme glides you straight into the broody mood.
You must be patient as the film gets moving, and a short training sequence is laughable.
But if you’re a fan of classic Japanese movies or martial arts films, you’ll be like me when it’s over: absolutely ready to hunt down the sequel (Lady Snowblood: Love Song of Vengeance).
Lady Snowblood is not rated (but full of graphic violence) and directed by Toshiya Fujita
You can stream it on Max.
You can watch the trailer here.
Disclaimer:
The factual information about the film in this review was gathered through online sources, such as Wikipedia, IMDB, or interviews. Misrepresentations and errors are possible but unintentional.
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