In Japan, the term jidaigeki — literally translating to “period drama” — is typically ascribed to a genre of samurai film, most commonly set during the Edo period (spanning from 1603 to 1868). This movement in film history largely celebrated its heyday between the 1950s and 1970s, where the most notable films emerged from directors Akira Kurosawa, Kenji Mizoguchi, and Masaki Kobayashi. However, much like its English-language counterpart in the Western, the genre is seemingly all but dead today, still produced sparingly but without much fanfare or lasting power. Perhaps it was the advent of digital cinema that laid the genre to rest, as a jidaigeki shot on anything other than film feels slightly wrong, excepting attempts at something avant-garde or an exercise in late style. Enter writer/director Jun’ichi Yasuda, who attempts to pay reverence and restore some glory to the jidaigeki with A Samurai in Time, an innovative spin on the genre. Funny and light on its feet, the film is first and foremost out to entertain, which allows Yasuda to operate like a kid in a sandbox, melding genres that are very clearly near and dear to his heart.
An opening narration provides some historical context: during the tail-end of the Edo period, Kyoto is embroiled in the Shogunate wars, a period of civil unrest and social upheaval with a military dictatorship running the nation. On the rebellious side are the Satsuma and Choso clans, anti-Shogunate forces fighting to restore imperial power to Japan. Meeting their challenge are special police forces Aizu and Shinsengumi, who protect Shogunate representatives. During a late-night stakeout, Aizu warrior Kosaka Shinzaemon (Makiya Yamaguchi) and a companion encounter Yamagata Hikokuro (Ken Shonozaki), a Choso samurai. When Shinzaemon and Hikokuro draw swords, lightning strikes and Shinzaemon is suddenly transported 140 years in the future, appearing on a film set in modern-day Kyoto. Understandably discombobulated, Shinzaemon makes his way around the production backlot, eventually befriending assistant director Yamamoto Yuko (Yuno Sakura) and taking up residence at a local temple operated by the Chief Priest (Yoshiharu Fukuda). With his period-accurate clothing, haircut, and mastery of the sword, Shinzaemon finds himself work on Yuko’s television production, a jidaigeki series entitled Worry-Not-Reformer. Climbing the ranks from glorified extra to kirareyaku — a type of stunt performer who specializes in being “cut down” on camera for a living — Shinzaemon enjoys his newfound lot in life despite the temporal displacement, until his past inevitably catches up with him to settle an old score.
Part A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, part The Iceman Cometh, and part Why Don’t You Play in Hell?, Yasuda is having a blast pulling from disparate works to bring his feudal sci-fi/comedy to life. A Samurai in Time opens with deadly solemnity before transforming into something considerably more humorous, though Yasuda is wise not to play things too broadly as Shinzaemon becomes a stranger in a strange land. The film finds its firmest footing with the samurai’s adventures on the television set, as he’s initially baffled by the silent nature of background extras and the phony propwork. (One recurring highlight is found in the sound design: any time a sword is unsheathed, it occurs in deadly silence, as it would in real life, without the benefit of any sort of obnoxious shiiing sound effect added in post-production.) Life outside of production work proves to be equally confounding, as Shinzaemon is met with modern electronic appliances, the miracle of television, and the delectable wonders of a typical strawberry cake, which he believes to be a rich delicacy available only to the wealthy. Shinzaemon also spends time honing his skills with the blade by training with Sekimoto (Rantaro Mine), the on-set sword fight choreographer for Worry-Not-Performer, which is a weekly serial about a samurai hero (think Bounty Law with a swordsman instead of a gunman). One could nitpick that Shinzaemon adapts rather too quickly to his unusual predicament, but Yasuda waves away any quibbles with an abundance of frivolity. Also helping the cause is lead actor Yamaguchi, who absolutely kills in the title role, delivering a carefully measured performance that finds a lot of humor in his keen skills of observation.
Halfway through the film, Hikokuro (now played by Norimasa Fuke) re-emerges, having been transported to the future 30 years prior to Shinzaemon and so now appearing as an older man. Like Shinzaemon, Hikokuro bided his time in film work, eventually adopting the moniker Kyoichiro Kazami, who became a renowned star in Japan. Hiring a hotshot director, Kazami announces his return to the filmmaking fold from retirement with a jidaigeki epic, and as an added metatextual bonus, he’s personally hired Shinzaemon to co-star as his mortal enemy on-screen, looking to finish the fight they started centuries ago. Through the lens of the jidaigeki production, Yasuda allows these two rivals to interrogate their place in a world that has long left everything they stood for behind, while also restoring relevance to the jidaigeki and preserving tradition. This all comes to a head in a final showdown, which places real combat in front of an otherwise staged setting with a camera. To say anything more would give away the game, but despite ultimately being a little distended in runtime, A Samurai in Time ends beautifully, guided to a safe landing by Yasuda, who capably balances genres and references with considerable amiability and skill.
Published as part of Japan Cuts 2025.
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