Junichi Yasuda’s time-travel meta-comedy overflows with passion for jidaigeki films and the filmmakers behind them
When a clash between warring samurai Shinzaemon Kosaka (Makiya Yamaguchi) and Yamagata Hikokuro (Ken Shozonaki) is interrupted by a lightning strike, Shinzaemon finds himself magically transported to Kyoto, miles away. However, interactions between people mysteriously repeat, interrupted by oddly-dressed people wielding never-before-seen technology. It isn’t long before Kosaka finds himself in a high-tech hospital–where he learns he isn’t just out of space, but time. He’s traveled 250 years into the future onto the set of a modern swords and samurai jidaigeki TV production. While devastated that his past way of life has ended, Kosaka finds an unexpected new way to transition his authentic swordplay skills…as the newest swordsman for a famed stunt group.
Junichi Yasuda’s time-travel comedy is an unabashed love letter to the mythic heroism of jidaigeki period films and chambara samurai pictures, providing a clever, meta spin on its fish-out-of-water premise before pivoting into a poignant reflection on courage and sacrifice. While its over two-hour runtime might take the wind out of the film’s comedic sails, A Samurai in Time remains quick-witted with its slice-of-life approach to its unique combination of sci-fi and backstage intrigue.
Jidaigeki period films and their closely related chambara swordplay epics are inherently theatrical genres. From classic Akira Kurosawa and Hideo Gosha films to the long-running Kage no Gundan and Zatoichi serials, there’s no shortage of stylistic flair imbued by their respective auteurs in mythologizing Japan’s samurai past. In A Samurai in Time, Junichi Yasuda plays the reserved stoicism of jidaigeki heroes for plenty of laughs, highlighting Kosaka’s contrast with the more casual nature of modern society. It’s hilarious to see how Kosaka adapts to the quirks of the modern world, but also how Kosaka’s ability to blend in with and even inspire his fellow stuntmen reveals the enduring nature of some universal samurai code. Even though Kosaka is a legendary swordsman in his day, there’s quite a bit of comedy in seeing him “unlearn” his more traditional swordplay mannerisms to adopt a new style that both plays well on camera as well as spares the lives of whoever he’s sparring with. There are plenty of fun easter eggs peppered throughout paying tribute to famed jidaigeki locations, as well as the legendary Toei studios providing the setting for much of the film’s action. Kosaka’s rise to fame as a dependable kiraeyaku (think the jidaigeki equivalent of ill-fated Star Trek redshirts or Austin Powers henchmen) in these jidaigeki is also an inspired source for laughs, lovingly lampooning some of the more worn-out tropes of a beloved genre.
At the same time, there are plenty of parallels drawn between Kosaka’s dedicated nature with the resilience of your everyday film crew. Epitomizing this is Yuko (Yuno Sakura), Kosaka’s chief ally in the present and a perpetually pressured 1st Assistant Director on the jidaigeki program Kosaka appeared on. Sakura is a charming lead as an aspiring writer-director in her own right, sympathetic to Kosaka’s plight but unwavering in her own professional goals and ideals. As Kosaka finds much to admire in Yuko’s combative spirit, it’s through her he begins to adopt a more modern perspective to his once-unshakable beliefs. While there are sparks between them, Yasuda can be commended for refusing to burden his two leads with a romantic “will they/won’t they” subplot–with the pair finding a mutual admiration for each other’s passion for their craft instead.
While the film remains brisk in its pacing from joke to joke, Yasuda pivots into moments of somber reflection and sentimentality when we least expect to. There’s a concerted focus not just on the psychological effects on Kosaka of being centuries out of step with the world, but on the waning popularity of jidaigeki period pieces and chambara swordplay epics at large. Yasuda seems rightfully interested in where a once-beloved genre fits in a world where such dramatic conflicts have no place, and rigorous codes of bushido feel more comically theatrical than deadly serious. These are moments well worth exploring, but A Samurai in Time’s rapt, almost obsessive focus on these elements in the back half of the film does wear thin on what was once a fast-moving, engaging fish-out-of-water comedy. There is a balance to be found here that makes both aspirations well worth their runtime–but it’s hard to justify spending over two hours on material that risks being overly repetitive in their ruminations.
However, the film’s climax thrillingly unifies all of Yasuda’s fascinations, celebrating the epic nature of jidaigeki films, the melancholy of living in the twilight of the genre, and the winking self-parody running throughout the film, without compromising one element to champion another. It’s a satisfying conclusion–though one wishes that Yasuda, here acting as writer, director, cinematographer, and editor–was more judicious and disciplined with his editorial blade as his characters are with their literal ones.
While a lengthy runtime risks wearing out the film’s welcome, A Samurai in Time is a witty, heartfelt time-travel comedy full of passion for samurai films and the intrepid filmmakers and stuntpeople who bring them to reality through blood, sweat, and imagination.
A Samurai in Time had its international premiere at Fantasia Fest 2024 on July 28, 2024 courtesy of Third Window Films.
