n a distant land ruled by a brutal monarch, citizens seeking reform have turned to terrorism to overthrow the repressive government. While their efforts have largely been ineffective, the apprehensive king has hired the House of Takemikazuchi—an ancient and once-honorable society of sword-wielding warriors—to subdue the rebellion. As one of these elite executioners, Yuki (Shaku) is a feared slayer. However, she remains haunted by one killing: that of her mother, a princess within the clan, who was murdered years earlier.
Sent to eliminate a hit man who has chosen to leave the brotherhood, she unexpectedly learns that the group's leader, the cold-blooded Byakurai (Kyusaku Shimada), engineered her mother's death. He denies the charge, but her questioning—and subsequent assault upon him—is resented, and Yuki finds herself wounded and on the run from her former "family." She takes refuge in a ramshackle service station operated by Takashi (Ito), who, though at first suspicious of his unanticipated visitor, is intrigued by her ambiguous background and reserved demeanor.
As their relationship deepens, it becomes obvious that Takashi is also harboring a secret. He, too, is a killer, although his enemy is the corrupt monarchy. Yet the morose young man's growing fondness for Yuki convinces him that perhaps there is more to life than rebellion and revenge. Unfortunately, his handler, Kidokoro (Sano), disagrees, and the pair discover that, if they intend to live long enough to share a future together, they must evade both the relentless Takemikazuchi and Takashi's commander, who would rather make a deal with the hated government than let his former comrade-in-arms escape.
A cut above the standard samurai fare
One of the most enriching aspects of science fiction is that, by situating events in a far-flung future or alternate reality, writers and filmmakers can comment upon contemporary civilization in the guise of a more-or-less unfamiliar setting. The Princess Blade is such a story, taking place in a vaguely futuristic realm but in truth addressing present-day issues such as withering cultural identity, government oppression and the ever-present threat of terrorism. Brimming with bleak imagery and awe-inspiring swordplay, it's an entertaining adventure that is unexpectedly poignant and provocative.
The opening sequence, wherein the Takemikazuchi ambush unsuspecting insurgents on a backcountry road, sets the picture's tone perfectly. The combination of dilapidated cars, dapper rebels, dark warriors and dynamic swordsmanship boldly introduce the tale's most energetic elements, while the next scene—showing Yuki wandering through a snowy forest ostensibly glimpsing her mother—presages the movie's more serene, contemplative moments. Takashi's subsequent appearance further adds to the dramatic tension, offsetting Yuki's persistently dour deportment and injecting a gentle trace of hope and, to some extent, quaint naiveté into the couple's melodramatic but ultimately moving relationship.
Brief panoramic views reveal a high-tech urban infrastructure, but, for the most part, the narrative could readily take place in present-day Cuba, Soviet-era Russia or any of a number of countries where totalitarian regimes have sapped the land's resources and the spirit of the populace. As such, the future milieu—initially established through an ambiguous prologue, which relates in Japanese (translated, as is all the dialogue, via subtitles) that "500 years had passed, and still the country remained closed"—is altogether trivial. Even so, the universal appeal of the story, plus some astonishing combat imagery, elevate The Princess Blade far above standard samurai or low-budget SF fare.
