Zatoichi: The Blind Samurai

I watched Kitani's Zatoichi: The Blind Swordsman last night. I saw The Last Samurai five times in Denmark when I was living at the Odin; the samurai village was like the Odin.

I am thinking of how both movies had a samurai who was a master-trainer, who basically beat the shit out of all the students. The difference was, in The Last Samurai he was harsh, unforgiving, brutal, but clean; in Zatoichi, he was sadistic, relishing extra-cruel beatings.

What struck me about The Last Samurai was the same thing I noticed when Jake Harter, from my Vision Team, walked into a boxing ring with a guy two weight-classes above him: Anything which did not make him stronger, would get him killed. In The Last Samurai, it wasn't until those seven guys surrounded him, that I realized -- if the swordmaster had been an ounce softer, more forgiving, Tom Cruise's character would not have survived.

I like classical forms. They ruthlessly asymptotically demand perfection.

I also liked Zatoichi's percussionists. Like the group Stomp, they used their whole bodies and implements to create rhythms. That was a correct resonance to have in the film. The demands for that level of rhythm are as exacting and physical as for swordplay.

On a completely other tack -- I saw Bertolucci's Stealing Beauty recently. This guy thinks like a theatre director. I had seen his The Last Emperor, which also blew me away. Stealing Beauty made me decide to see everything he's ever directed.

Whatever is cracking in me, in life, is cracking in the kinds of movies I like, too. I am now needing them to be as nourishing as any other art.