Shogun is a great war epic that never actually shows us a war

(Ed. remark: This post contains spoilers for the end of Shogun.)

Just before he is forced to commit seppuku in the final moments of ShogunYabushige wants to know how Toranaga’s plan to overthrow Ishido will turn out. At this time, Shogun shows us a glimpse of tens of thousands of soldiers in five armies gathered on a battlefield. The entire series seems to have built up to this point – the training of the gun regiment, Toranaga’s half-brother shifting his alliance, the regents all signing a declaration of war – and yet, just before the battle is due to begin, Ishido is delivered. a note informing him that the heir’s army will abstain from the battlefield. Without the heir’s flag, the other regents will turn on him before the battle even begins. But this is only Toranaga’s plan; Shogun actually never shows us any war.

It’s subversive never to go to war in a historical war epic, with Toranaga’s subversion postponing his vote for impeachment (and eventual declaration of war) until the ninth episode. Most films or TV shows in this genre set up the story in such a way that the viewer is given a satisfying and violent conclusion to the tension that has been built up, such as the final stand in The Return of the king, into confrontation Brave heartor even the last state of The last samurai (which is also about a Western soldier who lands in Japan and shares a crew with Shogun). As brutal and bloody as the battle is, essentially an explosive battlefield is the natural climax of the storyline. These films and shows also often arrive at one implicit conclusion: war, no matter how disgusting it may be, is a justified, even virtuous endeavor.

But while the war genre often has a “good side” to champion over the evil, Shogun complicates the conception with Toranaga, who spends most of the series in the background planning an alliance with key adversaries rather than preparing to fight them. Toranaga is cunning, ruthless, and willing to sacrifice his best friends if it means he can avoid all-out war. It’s his motivations that make it Shogun such a riveting show – while at the same time forcing audiences to re-examine their expectations of a historical war epic.

Before Toranaga Shogun, there is only one evil side: the war itself. In his final speech to Yabushige, Toranaga describes his dream: “A nation without wars. An era of great peace.” The key to his analysis, however, is his willingness to sacrifice those closest to him to achieve this peace. From the moment Ochiba returned to Osaka, Toranaga had prepared Mariko (and her thoughts on death) for a final call to gain allegiance from the Heir’s army. And because he knew since the pilot that Yabushige was about to betray him, Toranaga’s orchestration of Mariko’s sacrifice was his personal responsibility. cart problem – only in his version the question is between sacrificing one life or placing 10,000 carts against another 10,000 carts on the same track.

In other shows, this setup wouldn’t quite work. The public is used to war being a mass of bodies hacking, slicing and shooting each other with the idea that sacrifice is necessary and as long as both sides are armed. However, individual deaths of beloved characters are usually presented as the face of the enormous amount of lives lost. But Mariko walked into Osaka with a plan. Considering how close she came to committing seppuku, her sacrifice is likely one of the possible outcomes of the plan she discussed with Toranaga. When she willingly absorbs the bomb’s blast through the door, it is absolutely heartbreaking for the viewer and Blackthorne. His on-screen grief, along with that of Father Alvito and Buntaro, is devastating to watch in the finale. In most media properties, the audience would walk away wishing the character had been saved from his terrible fate in time, forced to settle for revenge in their name. In Shogunwe are asked to accept its decision and not demand a massacre in retaliation.

In this light, Toranaga seems ruthlessly Machiavellian, as he seems completely okay with an innocent death. When Uejiro, the gardener, removes the rotting pheasant and is put to death by the village as a smokescreen to protect his spy, Toranaga treats Blackthorne’s suffering as childish. Similarly, when the Erasmus is sunk at the end of the series, Toranaga puts the entire town of Ajiro to flight, plastering severed fishermen’s heads on a board as punishment for destroying the boat – even though it was he personally the person who hired the crew. men spreading gunpowder across the deck of Blackthorne’s beloved ship. Even the merciless death of his son is only audibly acknowledged by Toranaga as a way to buy time and postpone the impending war.

Avoiding war seems to be Toranaga’s top priority throughout the series, although he never makes this fully clear until his final confrontation with Yabushige. Throughout the show, he refuses to share his feelings publicly, instead allowing other characters on his council to lead the discussions – even as he manipulates their movements from behind the scenes. When his oldest friend and advisor threatens Seppuku, Toranaga stands by his decision to surrender to Osaka, knowing that Hiromatsu’s death will set his battle-averse plans in motion. Even in his final interaction with Yabushige, who wants to know if Toranaga plans to restore the shogunate, which will mean a return to a single military ruler for all of Japan, he misses the opportunity to monologue: “Why would you tell a dead man the future?”

Shogun is sparse but decisive about the horrors of the war Toranaga wants to avoid. Violence is efficiently brutal in the world of the show. Even in the flashback to Toranaga’s early glory days, Shogun be careful not to valorize the war or its part in it; As his own soldiers brutally decapitate fallen enemies lying in bloody piles of limbs on the battlefield, a young Toranaga watches, steadfast in his demeanor. Threatened by the arrival of Ishido’s chieftain Nebara Jozen in episode 4, Toranaga’s son Nagakado makes the rash decision to unleash their newly minted cannon regiment on the invaders. As the guns roar in the distance, the camera quickly cuts to Jozen, his men and their horses being torn to shreds in some of the goriest effects broadcast on television. While there are quite a few sword-fighting skirmishes in the series, this cannon demonstration is one of the few depictions we get of mass warfare, and the results are truly terrifying. Amid the viscera, the audience can hear the feet of Nagakado’s men rushing in the blood-soaked mud as they sneak in to finish everyone off. Compared to the hand-to-hand combat we’ve seen in the woods, where men fall down after a single blow or stab, this taste of war is considerably more gruesome, especially when you add in the entire rifle regiments.

Shogun is careful to avoid the glorious attack in the battle, which disrupts the viewer’s relationship with the political struggle. When Hiromatsu commits seppuku to protest Toranaga’s surrender to Osaka, he does so to prevent Toranaga’s other generals from inciting their own rebellion. Toranaga clearly wants to stop him, but cannot, as Hiromatsu would and must do anything for him. Later, Toranaga reveals that he knew Hiromatsu’s actions would prompt Yabushige and Blackthorne to go to Osaka on their own, allowing him to send Mariko with them as part of his true plan. Toranaga’s pained stoicism in this scene is revealing, and the tears in his eyes are the first time viewers see his facade crack. Even as Toranaga bears the weight of every death in service of his cause, he is still steadfast in his ultimate goal.

Which brings us back to Mariko’s standoff at the Osaka castle gates. As she tries to fight her way forward with her naginata, she is ruthlessly beaten back by Ishido’s men. After her defeat, she announces her intention to publicly commit seppuku because she cannot carry out Toranaga’s orders. That moment that prompts Ishido to release the regents and their royal court as hostages – not her actual fight. In her actual fight, just before she picks up her own polearm, we see again and again the senseless deaths of her armed escorts as Ishido’s men slaughter them. Even when it looks like they can turn the tide, Mariko’s guards are shot down by arrows from men stationed on the castle walls. The fight is over in seconds and ends with one of Toranaga’s men bowing to Mariko as he is stabbed directly through the heart from behind.

It’s hard to ignore the message of deliberate protest against death. For those not directly involved: war – especially period warfare Shogun— It is usually a tragedy that takes place in a place far away, out of sight and out of mind. Even if her men remain nameless, Mariko’s sacrifice places tragedy immediately on the doorstep of the Japanese capital in the most unavoidable way. When we want to calculate the cost of war, it is no longer a count of nameless soldiers dying far away. It is now the immediate loss of someone dear to everyone on the show – and of course the audience.

And the audience spends the entire final episode dealing with Blackthrone’s grief and acceptance. Shogun defies the natural storyline by ending on a whimper; it’s precisely in that moment of audience discomfort that viewers are forced to reckon with how much they want to see violence played out on screen, and perhaps even contend with how easily they’re willing to accept war in real life.

In a way, Shogun is both a critique of war and the way the media portrays it. But the show is always clear that every decision requires some kind of sacrifice. “It’s hypocrisy, our lives,” Yabushige says on the cliff, as Toranaga draws his sword to brace his seppuku. “All this death and sacrifice of lesser men, just to secure a victory in our name…” Yabushige exists almost as an analogue at this point for the audience, who question Toranaga’s methods. “When you win, anything is possible,” Toranaga replies, echoing a sentiment Blackthorne expressed earlier. And win, Shogun seems to imply, could happen before war even breaks out.

Shogun is now streaming in full on Hulu.