Yamato Takeru

Yamato Takeru (1994)
Toho Studios
Director: Ōkawara Takao, Kawakita Kōichi (special effects)
Also known as: Orochi, the Eight-Headed Dragon (the American direct-to-video title).


Readers may recall that back in 1959, Toho Studios filmed a lavish adaptation of the legend of Prince Yamato Takeru. This film featured superstar actor Mifune Toshirō and a substantial dose of nationalism and was marketed in a celebratory way as the studio’s thousandth production. It included some of the foundational stories of Shintō mythology by way of plot background, hence its original title, The Birth of Japan, and its English language title, The Three Treasures, both of which put the focus of the audience onto those origin stories.

In fact, you might want to take another look at the blog entry for that film, just to remind yourself of all the details of the story. And then forget all about them.

Yamato Takeru is a very different adaptation. The title, for a start, throws the focus back onto the hero of the main narrative – The Three Treasures was a hero-driven adventure movie too, but Yamato Takeru makes it more personally about the prince. Meanwhile, the Anglo title, Orochi, the Eight-Headed Dragon, emphasises for the benefit of American fans of Godzilla that this is a movie with a giant monster in it. In fact, this is quite a kaiju-heavy movie, boasting two new creations in prominent set pieces as well as the legendary Yamata no Orochi in a much expanded role.

I can’t find any suggestion that this was marketed as a big celebratory film or prestige production for Toho. If it had been filmed in 1992 as planned, it could have marked the studio’s 60th anniversary, but script rewrites pushed it back by two years. Nor are there any casting coups on a par with Mifune, although we’ll look at the lead cast after the plot synopsis. This appears simply to have been a fantasy action blockbuster, not some kind of grand cultural statement but a bit of lurid entertainment.

Before we start on the plot, it’s worth just reminding ourselves about the famous “three treasures”, also sometimes referred to as the crown jewels of Japan. These are the bronze mirror Yata no Kagami, the sword Kusanagi no Tsurugi and the magatama, or comma-shaped stone bead, Yasakani no Magatama. According to legend, all three of these were given by the sun god Amaterasu to the grandfather of the first Emperor of Yamato. At least one of them, the sword, also passed through the hands of Yamato Takeru – it’s because of his exploits that the sword has its present name, the “Grass-Cutting Sword”, prior to which it was called Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi, the “Heavenly Sword of Gathering Clouds”. Watch out for the echoes of these three sacred objects in the synopsis that follows.

The Three Treasures embellished the legend of Yamato Takeru, and one of those embellishments is picked up here: the inclusion of a villain the audience can boo, an advisor to the Emperor who connives against the prince. There, the advisor was an uncle of the Emperor’s younger sons trying to manoeuvre his relatives onto the throne. Here, the other sons are pruned from the plot and so, instead of being an ambitious political manipulator, the villain becomes a sorcerer who serves the film’s supernatural antagonist. He thus also serves the overall shift of tone from the plausibly historical to the whimsically fantastic. This mutation of the legend is a bit like how the British legends of Robin Hood or King Arthur have been added to and changed over the centuries, as well as the tonal shifts of successive film and TV adaptations. If Toho ever makes a third film adaptation of the legend, it’ll be interesting to see if the insertion of Tsukuyomi or any of the other fantasy elements are carried over into that.

And fantasy is very much the order of the day here. As a folkloric adaptation, Yamato Takeru is much more Robin of Sherwood (1984-86) than Arthur of the Britons (1972-73). I think it might be best understood in the context of the occasional American fantasy films of the previous decade, such as Legend (1985), which also ends with a supernatural villain banished but not entirely defeated; Ladyhawke (1985), which also ends with a dramatic shot of a solar eclipse; or Willow (1988), an ensemble adventure which I think most closely matches the tone of this film. (And like those movies, it seemed like a good idea but didn’t perform well at the box office.) It also owes something to the popular fantasy-tinged science fiction cinema of earlier years. The Star Wars (1977) optical effects business in the sword fights is obvious to the point of shamelessness. I think there’s also a clear debt to Superman (1978) in the title visuals and in Tsukuyomi’s crystal UFO. (Sadly, his lunar castle is no Fortress of Solitude.) Closer to home, the metallic look of Amaterasu’s messenger bird and the gods’ warrior champion suggests an attempt to appeal to fans of the mecha-heavy boys’-own variety of anime. All the “gods as alien astronauts” stuff fits neatly alongside the similar ethos of Princess from the Moon (1987) and the von Dänikenism of some of the later Shōwa era Godzilla movies – it was a tried and tested trope, the filmmakers had every reason to believe it would work this time too.

Meanwhile, the militarism is played down. That the prince is sent to subdue the Kumaso territory all on his own (with the help of the three companions he meets along the way) might look like a cost-saving measure, but it’s closer to the original legend. There’s no suggestion in the Kojiki that the Emperor sent him off with an army, although he does seem to have had a household entourage with him, and the entire final battle in The Three Treasures was invented for that film.

The Three Treasures, surprisingly given the Anglo title under which Toho marketed it, downplayed its presentation of Japan’s crown jewels to the point that you’d only spot two of them if you knew your Shintō mythology and knew to look for them. The sword Kusanagi no Tsurugi, pulled by Susanoo from the tail of Yamata no Orochi, was the only one of the three that really featured in the movie. Yamato Takeru makes a great deal out of the “three lights” the prince will wield on the day he transforms into the Michelin Gundam, and you’d be forgiven for thinking these ought to be the famous three objects. And at first glance they do appear to be, but it’s more complicated than that. The mirror from Amaterasu’s shrine is presumably still in Yamato Takeru’s possession after he returns to Earth, so that seems to be a lock. We do see Yamato Takeru picking up the Kusanagi no Tsurugi after the big fight, while Tsukuyomi is lying inert on the ground – I don’t think he’s holding it on the journey home, but it’s plausible that he took it back. But it wasn’t one of the “three lights” – that was the other sword, the one the prince took from Susanoo. And the magatama, which is absolutely central to the plot, ends up tumbling away into space, so it clearly isn’t meant to be the Yasakani no Magatama. Granted, the Yasakani no Magatama is supposed to be sacred to Amaterasu while the prince’s magatama in the movie was a conduit for Susanoo’s power, so it would have been a stretch in any case to identify it with the Imperial treasure.

The expansion of Oto-tachibana’s role from the intermittent love interest who drowns herself to appease the gods to a kick-ass female lead who survives the movie is another significant change to the legend that I hope will influence future adaptations. I’d note again that women were the source of a substantial proportion of Japanese box office takings in the 90s, and this change to the text is in line with the foregrounding of strong female characters in the contemporary Godzilla movies. Toho would have wanted to make their fantasy blockbuster as marketable as possible. They also presumably wanted to get the most out of their lead actress, who deserved nothing less.

Yamato Takeru doesn’t boast a big name superstar in the way The Three Treasures did, but it could be considered a vehicle for two bankable stars. Both of them were about a decade into their film careers and had already starred in fantasy films for Toho, and both are on good form here. Prince Ousu, a.k.a. Yamato Takeru, is played by Takashima Masahiro, who played the Pteranodon enthusiast, G-Force dropout and "goofball" hero Aoki in Godzilla vs Mechagodzilla (1993) and would go on to appear in the next and last film in the Heisei Godzilla series. The priestess/princess Oto-tachibana is played by Sawaguchi Yasuko, who was also the only speaking female actor in The Return of Godzilla (1984) and Princess Kaguya in Princess from the Moon (1987). Among the other cast, watch out for Abe Hiroshi, playing Tsukuyomi, who will go on to play a villainous role in a later Godzilla movie.

All in all, this film is a classic 90s mix of the spectacular and the cheap-looking. (I say “cheap-looking”, knowing that it actually went over budget.) The CGI, still cutting edge at the time, has dated a bit. It’s most obvious in the fight scene with Kumaso-gami but subtler in scenes like the build-up to the heroes’ transformation in the climactic battle, and I’m sure there are other instances so subtle that I haven’t spotted them. I’m not entirely sure whether some of the visual effects were computer generated or classic optical effects. The shot of Yamata no Orochi approaching Earth in the related tale of olden times is astonishingly bad, but the practical kaiju effects in the rest of the movie are executed well. The music is cheerfully bombastic, with one catchy cue that’s reused on every single fight scene – it’s a bit like the stock music used in dramatic scenes in Star Trek (1966-69). There’s no very good reason why I should like this movie more than The Three Treasures, but I do. Quite apart from being an hour shorter and thus not outstaying its welcome, it’s just more fun.

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