The Last Samurai

dir. Edward Zwick

Opens Fri Dec 5.

Tom Cruise's new picture, The Last Samurai, offers a pleasant, if decidedly catty, opportunity for film reviewers, as a great many of us will surely squander far too much time trying to concoct the perfectly glib title for our reviews. For my part, I rejected "Dances with Samurai," "The Little Samurai," and "Tokyo: Impossible" before settling on the title "Top Shogun." "Japs" was also considered, only to be soundly--and rightly--rejected due to both its racist overtones and obscurity of reference (for the record: Taps).

Why all the unnecessary sniping on our part? Because Tom Cruise is the biggest movie star in the world, and as such it is very hard to take him seriously. This is, of course, grossly unfair, especially given the months of hard work Cruise suffered through in order to bring The Last Samurai to the screen, months that are suitably described and gushed about in the film's press notes. "I worked for eight months to get into shape for this picture," Cruise is quoted as saying. "I learned Kendo, Japanese martial arts, all manner of weapons handling. I not only had to ride a horse, but I had to effectively fight while riding. I studied Japanese. As far as training goes, you name it, I've done it."

Which is to say: Whew, that's a lot of work. Which is to also say: Is there anything Tom Cruise didn't study in preparation for his role? The more petty among us might reply with a single word--acting--though truth be told the major faults to be found within The Last Samurai, and there are indeed many, are not provided by the film's star. Cruise is decent, if unremarkable, in the picture (i.e., his normal acting self), which means the reason the film is, on the whole, a rather sizable blunder must lie elsewhere. And that elsewhere, as it turns out, is with the film's director, Edward Zwick, who has crafted a bland, obvious, and completely unoriginal epic, a film so blatant in its pandering for awards consideration that it arrives on-screen perversely stillborn. Zwick, previous director of Courage Under Fire, Legends of the Fall, and Glory, has always been an intelligent director in choice of topic, but he has also been a fairly untalented one, and this division is on clear display in The Last Samurai--from shot selection to an over-reliance on almighty musical thunder, Zwick's picture has kicked all subtlety and nuance into Tokyo Bay, turning The Last Samurai into the one thing that so often results from such actions: cheesy, bland Oscar bait.

Cruise plays Captain Nathan Algren, a Civil War veteran who has spent the bulk of his postwar career first slaughtering Indians, then crawling deep into a bottle of whiskey. As we meet Algren he is earning some meager cash as a spokesman for a rifle company, crassly pimping his past battlefield accomplishments in the name of commerce. Fortune--or, if not fortune, then at least a sizable pay increase--heads Algren's way, however, in the form of the Japanese government, which hires him to train and modernize its army. Just why the Japanese would want a washed-up drunkard such as Algren training their troops remains a mystery, but it is Algren they choose, and off Algren goes.

Cut to Japan--or, rather, New Zealand as Japan--where Algren arrives, meets the emperor, does some cursory training of the troops, and then is informed his men--all of whom remain greener than green--will quickly be sent off to scrimmage. Their enemy: a group of samurai, led by a noble warrior named Katsumoto (Ken Watanabe), that is resisting Japan's movement toward modernity. Stolid and impeccably trained in the art of killing, Katsumoto's men make quick work of Algren and his weak troops, eventually capturing Algren and taking him back to their village.

At this point, those who remember Dances with Wolves will surely pinpoint The Last Samurai's trajectory. For those who don't remember (or were wise enough to miss Costner's bloated epic): Algren slowly becomes Japanese during his stay in the village, embracing the samurai culture and training himself to be a warrior. At the same time, he and Katsumoto bond, and we the audience are inflicted with rambling voiceovers from Algren's diary. Algren leers at a tasty dish named Taka (Koyuki) as she plants some rice, deciding he'd like to plant some rice of his own. There is a hitch in his planting plans, however, for during his capture, Algren drove a spear through the jugular of Taka's husband. Oops.

Will Algren melt Taka's heart? Will he and Katsumoto defeat the modernized Japanese army? Will lessons about tradition and culture be learned? The Last Samurai offers many questions, but very little interest, and this, as it turns out, is the film's major downfall; little more than a greatest-hits package of Hollywood epics, the picture is so unimaginative, so unoriginal, that a feeling of déjà vu trumps whatever excitement the film can muster. Not even an attack from ninjas--yes, ninjas!--can save the endeavor. We have all seen The Last Samurai before when it was called Gladiator, or Lawrence of Arabia, or Dances with Wolves, and because of this, all the film can offer is the sight of Tom Cruise wielding a lengthy sword--a thought sure to excite fans of childish metaphor, but they may be the only ones.

brad@thestranger.com