SHOGUN (1980): Still a Great and Captivating Miniseries

There are cult series because, over the years, never leaving the television schedule, they have formed successive generations of fans. There are also those series whose cult status arose from the sense of incompleteness they left viewers with. After one extraordinarily successful season, they said goodbye to their audience, leaving behind a hole that is difficult to fill. The famous Shogun belongs to this second group.

This is one of my youthful memories that I decided to revisit after many years.

Two factors influenced that decision: my growing interest in Far Eastern culture, and Martin Scorsese’s Silence—a film dealing with similar themes reminded me of that long-forgotten series. Watching Shogun again proved to be a very positive experience, because it turns out that this American-Japanese co-production still holds up after all these years. The series was created and premiered in 1980. Shogun is the creation of Jerry London, a respected television director. The screenplay for the production (classified as a miniseries) was based on the novel of the same title by James Clavell.

It is the end of the sixteenth century. A ship piloted by John Blackthorne is wrecked off the coast of Japan—a country then known to Europe only through legend. The protagonist, initially treated as an enemy, eventually gains the favor of the local ruler, Toranaga, who arranges for him to be named a samurai. Blackthorne becomes entangled in the struggle for the Shogun’s throne, learns the culture and traditions of feudal Japan, and even finds the love of his life.

Shogun is a classic story of the meeting of two cultures. We know it from Dances with Wolves and The Last Samurai. A protagonist who, through the vicissitudes of fate, lands in an environment wholly exotic to him must find a way to function within it. At the same time, he gains distance from his own past, noticing its imperfections.

What makes this story still so enjoyable after all these years? Let us begin with the fact that it is very decently acted. Richard Chamberlain’s performance is nothing short of brilliant. In playing a newcomer from a distant world, he managed to instill in his role the qualities typical of a true explorer: curiosity about life and respect for the people he meets.

I also very much appreciated how well the actor conveyed Blackthorne’s feisty and unyielding character, an individual who refuses to be cowed even when an enemy’s katana rests against his throat. It is relatively easy to root for such a personality.

The supporting cast is equally superb. The production engaged the outstanding Japanese film star Toshirō Mifune, who took on the role of Toranaga.

Known, among other roles, for his work with Akira Kurosawa, in his portrayal of the feudal ruler he opted for a piercing minimalism. His facial expressions seem employed sparingly, creating a contrast with Chamberlain’s expressiveness. However, the scene that earned my utmost admiration was the comically charged dance sequence in which Mifune managed to gently mock his own portentous image. In the same high terms one could speak of the role played by John Rhys-Davies, who as Vasco Rodrigues once again and with his customary flair recreated the character of the boisterous and obscene warrior, serving in this case as the main character’s companion.

It is worth noting, however, that when it comes to acting awards, alongside Chamberlain, Yōko Shimada’s performance was also honored; in Shogun she portrayed Mariko, Blackthorne’s lover. It was probably thanks to the relationship that the two of them portrayed so passionately that Shogun gained its unique character, enriching the adventure narrative with elements of romance. Its universality undoubtedly contributed to the popularity of this twelve-episode miniseries by Jerry London. Objectively speaking, one must admit that at times the plot develops rather clumsily.

Nevertheless, the overall impression that the series leaves is determined by its principal quality: by using an accessible convention, Shogun stimulated viewers’ imaginations, calling to mind a time when the world still held mysteries, and their discovery usually involved great sacrifices.

For me, however, Shogun is above all an encounter with another, fascinating culture.

The creators did their homework and presented to the audience— as authentically as possible—the realities of sixteenth-century feudal Japan. This is evident not only in the solid visual presentation. What interested me most was how they depicted all the differences in customs dividing Christian Europe and Japan, including, for example, attitudes toward love and corporeality. The attitude toward fate and death arising from Buddhist tradition, however, seems crucial to the plot.

Life flows in its natural course, which cannot be halted or, much less, reversed. The katana proves unfailing, whose single, skillful stroke is enough to grant someone an honorable end. Blackthorne’s roots extend so deeply that entering another culture is tantamount to reevaluating everything that was familiar to him. Yet a new path may turn out to be the very path he has spent his entire life seeking.