James Clavell’s epic Shōgun, the third volume of his “Asian Saga” series of novels depicting the conflicts between eastern and western civilizations over hundreds of years, was a monster hit after it was published in 1975. It spawned a 1980 TV miniseries starring Richard Chamberlain, Toshiro Mifune, and Yoko Shimada, which was also a hit. There is also a stage musical and multiple video games, proving Shōgun’s wide-ranging appeal.
It has now been re-adapted as a limited series, though this time, the European character is not promoted in importance in the story, as he was in the 1980 adaptation. Much of Shōgun is in Japanese with English subtitles, the Japanese characters are the central focus of the narrative, and any time you think the story is edging into white savior territory, Shōgun quickly disabuses you of that notion. It’s fantastic, easily the best limited series in recent memory, and containing at least two all-time episodes of television.
Hiroyuki Sanada stars as Lord Toronaga, a powerful member of the Council of Regents ruling feudal Japan as the deceased Taikō's heir is still a child. The power structure of feudal Japan is either explained through context clues, such as the amount of deference shown to a particular character, or in asides to the European fish out of water stumbling from one conflict to the next. The weekly format of Shōgun certainly helped, though, providing ample time to do some googling and sort out who’s who in the time between shows. It reminds me of the early days of Game of Thrones, when non-book readers had to dive into various Wikis to learn houses and alliances and fake history. Shōgun does not talk down to its viewers, series creators Rachel Kondo and Justin Marks, along with the writers, assume we’ll look up whatever additional information we need. But it is pretty easy to figure out who’s in power, who’s not, who is gaining or losing favor episode-to-episode just based on how characters interact.
Kicking off the action is the arrival of John Blackthorne (Cosmo Jarvis), an Englishman piloting a ship for the Dutch looking to establish trade with the Japanese. After he lands in Japan, nearly starved, Blackthorne becomes a pawn in the political intrigue infecting the Council of Regents, which is being fanned by Portuguese traders and Jesuit priests, who are sowing discord in the Japanese court in order to better leverage their silk trade. In Toronaga’s employ is Lady Mariko (Anna Sawai), a noblewoman and translator who translates for Blackthorne. Toronaga, Blackthorne, and Mariko form the core point of view characters for Shōgun.
Sanada has often appeared in Hollywood films as a guy who knows The Guy, but in Shōgun, he is The Guy. Toronaga finds himself on the outs with his fellow Regents as Japan teeters on the brink of civil war, and old grudges return to the fore for satisfaction. Sanada gives a consummate performance as Toronaga, dignified and restrained, except for all the times a twitch of his lips signals his varying degrees of irritation, impatience, disgust, and glee. Toronaga is careful with his words and actions, but nevertheless his true feelings are often broadcast in flickering expressions and subtle shifts in tone.
But it’s Anna Sawai who stands out the most. Shōgun is full of excellent performances, but Sawai is often acting in layers. So much of Shōgun is built around the act of translating that she has to perform every scene in triplicate—what she hears, what she thinks, what she translates. Sometimes, Shōgun plays this for effect, reducing a long-winded speech to a few concise phrases, or turning one of Blackthorne’s clumsy attempts at courtly speech into elegant words. And Mariko has an agenda of her own, she is experiencing her own problems, setbacks, and yes, a love story with Blackthorne that is, wisely, built slowly and never allowed to overshadow her intentions. Sawai is giving a master class in every episode, her performance so layered it’s impossible to unwind all of Mariko’s motivations and intrigues.
The easiest reference for Shōgun is Game of Thrones, a similarly lavish, detailed production about a feudal world teetering on the brink of chaos after a ruler’s death. But of course, Shōgun is real history, loosely based on events that occurred in 1600 Japan. And, too, there is the effect of different civilizations clashing. The Japanese have their own internal factions, as do the Christians—Toronaga is baffled at the conflict between the Catholics and the Protestants (“Don’t you worship the same god?”)—but just as the Portuguese see court factions as a wedge for their own benefit, Toronaga sees religious dissidence as a benefit to himself.
Every episode of Shōgun is rife with intrigue, plots, backstabbing, failures, misdirection, and the most precise, beautiful language as Mariko translates between all parties. Episode three, “Tomorrow Is Tomorrow”, is basically one long action sequence, a stupendous piece of action cinema, but most of the series’ ten episodes feature people sitting in rooms talking, interspersed with brief bouts of brutality (lots of beheadings). It all revolves around the power plays of Toronaga, his backstabbing vassal Yabushige (Tadanobu Asano), and Ochiba no Kata (Fumi Nikaidō), a consort of the late Taikō, and the only woman who bore an heir.
There is no white savior, Blackthorne is not equipped for it mentally or emotionally, and Shōgun richly illustrates how fruitless such attempts would be anyway. Toronaga only needs the help of one crucial collaborator; Blackthorne is only useful as a pawn. He is repeatedly shuffled around the chessboard as various characters attempt to leverage him and his ship, and he is always at the mercy of the most powerful person in the room, which is never him. Cosmo Jarvis is great at portraying a fish out of water who slowly comes to respect the people and culture around him, eventually showing grace and understanding to the women in his orbit. Like these women, Blackthorne is merely an object to be bartered for someone else’s political satisfaction.
Shōgun is a richly detailed series with eye-popping production design, and a beautiful score by Atticus Ross, Leopold Ross, and Nick Chuba. It’s a showcase of incredible acting and writing, and features some of the best direction on television—the dark scenes are still legible! If you’re looking for climactic battle sequences, Shōgun is not for you, but if you like exquisitely structured narratives and meticulously crafted production design and plenty of scheming, then Shōgun IS for you.
