Princess Blade by Shinsuke Sato (Review)

In a genre that is often too over the top for its own good, Princess Blade offers a nice dose of drama and gravity.
Princess Blade, Shinsuke Sato

Every so often, I get this opinion that I’ve seen it all when it comes to martial arts movies. Don’t ask me where it comes from, because I know I’ve barely seen the tip of the iceberg as far as the genre’s concerned. Maybe it’s seeing the glut of films that rip off more from kung fu and martial arts than they’ll ever know or care to admit. You can’t look at an action sequence these days and not see something derivative. Sadly, that only serves to cheapen peoples’ expectations as far as the real product is concerned.

And then along comes something like Princess Blade, a stunning actionfest that kicks your butt and tugs at your heartstrings with equal skill. Based on a popular manga, Princess Blade hit the big screen in Japan a few years back. With movies like Versus, the comic Red Shadow and the upcoming Returner, Japan has shown quite a knack for putting out slick, stylish action movies. But none of them resonate emotionally half as well as this one.

Set in the distant future (500 years to be exact), Japan has isolated itself from the rest of the world and become a totalitarian state. The government hires the Takemikazuchi, a clan of skilled assassins, to deal with any rebels. Yuki is one of these assassins, a young woman who has lived her life by the sword, dispatching those her clan has been hired to kill as coolly as those who would seek to leave the clan. Her unswerving loyalty is shaken when she’s told that her mother was killed by the clan’s current leader, Byakurai, and that she is the proper heir to the clan’s leadership.

All of this happens rather quickly — one of the movie’s only major faults is the beginning’s somewhat uneven pacing — and within the movie’s first 20 minutes, Yuki begins plotting her revenge. Wounded in her escape attempt, she ends up in a truck driven by a young rebel named Takashi. Although wary of the assassin at first, Takashi finds himself tending her wounds when she returns after being ambushed by the Takemikazuchi. Slowly, the two begin to open up to eachother, discovering that they have more in common than they thought.

Like Yuki, Takashi is trying to escape. In his case, he’s trying to escape a terrorist organization bent on overthrowing the government. He’s become disillusioned with the group’s methods, especially after unwittingly killing innocent civilians in a recent bombing. All he wanted was justice after his parents’ murder, but somewhere, he lost his way and now he’s living with the guilt.

Slowly, Yuki and Takashi, along with Takashi’s autistic sister Aya, begin to create some semblance of a home (one of the film’s most touching moments occurs when the three sit down to eat and Yuki helps Takashi feed Aya). Yuki finally finds happiness for the first time in her life, and for a moment, thoughts of vengeance and violence are nowhere to be seen. Of course, the film’s heavy atmosphere is a clue that this won’t last.

Some might find the movie a little heavy-handed or overwrought, or that the mood weighs down the film at times. Not me. Instead, I found it really refreshing to see a genre film this serious. All too often, martial arts movies feel the need to inject some raucous humor or slapstick comedy to lighten up the proceedings. Not so with Princess Blade. There’s nary a comedic moment to be found and if it weren’t for the katanas and spurting blood, you’d think this was a drama through and through.

But Princess Blade is, first and foremost, an action movie. Big props have to be given to Donnie Yen in that department. Yen has recently established a name for himself as an action choreographer and star, working in big Hollywood movies such as Blade II and Shanghai Knights. He was handpicked by Jet Li to star in Zhang Yimou’s Hero, and he starred in a remake of Bruce Lee’s legendary Fist Of Fury.

Yen’s movies can be uneven, ranging from incredible (Iron Monkey) to comical (Wing Chun) to horrible (Legend Of The Wolf). But if you ever see Donnie Yen listed as “action director,” you at least know the fights are bound to be interesting and creative. Some of Yen’s choreography can come off as stylish just for style’s sake. But the choreography throughout much of Princess Blade is brutal and efficient, even managing to avoid the Matrix comparisons that plague any movie with an ounce of kung fu in it these days. For my money, Yen is one of the best choreographers out there, and Princess Blade ranks up there in his finest achievements, with 5 or 6 scenes worthy of multiple rewinds.

But when the action pauses, the film rides on the shoulders of Yumiko Shaku. Amazingly, this was her first major movie, but you’d never know it from her intense performance. When she walks defiantly through the forest, stalking her mother’s killers with a katana in each hand… well, let’s just say I hope she had some time to cool down after the director yelled “Cut.” The look in her eyes is simply piercing in scenes like that.

The rest of the cast does quite well too. Hideaki Ito takes what could be a token role and invests it with depth and compassion. One surprise was Kyusaku Shimada as Byakurai. Instead of being just a one-dimensional villain, Byakurai develops some depth as the movie goes on. His speech about the Takemikazuchi’s history and their fall from honor almost makes you understand why the guy has taken to such extreme measures; if you didn’t know better, you’d swear there was a hint of regret in his voice.

In a genre that is often too over the top for its own good, Princess Blade offers a nice dose of drama and gravity. It certainly doesn’t forget why you watch this sort of movie in the first place, but it also surprises with strong characters and some genuinely affecting moments (which in turn make the film more intense, because you understand why the characters fight the way they do). Between Donnie Yen’s amazing choreography and Yumiko Shaku’s performance, this one could easily become a real gem of the genre.

Enjoy reading Opus? Want to support my writing? Become a subscriber for just $5/month or $50/year.
Subscribe Today
Return to the Opus homepage