Other Titles: Disorder of the Kuroda Clan; The Kuroda Incident; Unknown Treachery (alternative English titles)

Production Company	Toei Kyoto
Scenarist	Takaiwa Hajime
Source	Hōjō Hideji (novel)
Producer	Okawa Hiroshi
Planning	Makino Mitsuo, Tamaki Junichirō
Cinematographer	Yoshida Sadaji
Art Direction	Suzuki Takatoshi
Music	Kosugi Taiichirō
Editing	Miyamoto Shintarō
Assistant Director	Ōnishi Hideaki
Performers	Kataoka Chiezō (Kuriyama Daizen); Ōtomo Ryūtarō (Takenaka Unemenokami); Kataoka Eijirō (Kuroda Tadayuki, the young head of the Kuroda clan); Nanbara Shinji [a.k.a., Nanbara Kōji] (Kurahashi Jutayu); Takachiho Hizuru (Ohide, Tadayuki’s mistress); Kōdō Kokuten (Kuroda Nagamasa, father of Tadayuki); Miura Mitsuko (Suo); Susukida Kenji (Doi Toshikatsu); Hara Kensaku (Benzo), Kotaro Nirei (Arikawa)
Status	Extant
Photography	Black-and-White
English Subtitles	Yes
Original Release Date	January 8, 1956
Length	108 minutes
Festival/Retrospective Screenings	Museum of Modern Art Uchida Retrospective (2016)

Plot Summary

From the KINENOTE website, slightly edited.

The Tokugawa Shogunate, some years after the death of its patriarch Ieyasu Tokugawa, is desperate to eliminate the power of “outside” feudal lords – i.e., those outside the circle of the Tokugawa clan and its closest allies in power – and to crush Christianity. The leading outside lord, Kuroda Nagamasa of Chikuzen, to ensure the security of his 520,000 koku fief, decides to dethrone his strong-willed eldest son and heir, Tadayuki. But he is moved by the pleas of the young samurai of the clan, who threaten mass suicide, and by the loyalty of the castle lord’s elder retainer, Kuriyama Toshiaki, known as Daizen, and so before dying he entrusts his clan’s future affairs to Daizen.

After inheriting the family leadership, Tadayuki, one day while falconing, falls in love with hunter Yajibei’s daughter, Ohide, a secret Christian, and takes her as his mistress. At the suggestion of Kurahashi Jutayu, a favorite retainer whom Tadayuki had promoted from a low-ranking official, he also organizes a 200-man foot soldier unit and trains them with guns and cannon, ignoring Daizen’s warnings.

During Daizen’s absence in Nagasaki, Tadayuki, at the urging of Ohide, begins construction of a large warship, The Phoenix (Hōō) – an action prohibited by the shogun. However, the doubling of tax rates to finance the ship’s construction and the forced labor of its workers, as well as forced donations all lead to growing resentment among the people of the domain. The shogunate sends its retainer Takenaka Unemenokami to investigate the situation, but when Daizen finds this out, he stops Takenaka on the way by inviting him to tea and a game of Go, and orders his subordinate Benzo to burn the Phoenix before Takenaka can discover it.

After Tadayuki, enraged, orders his troops to kill Ohide, Daizen appeals to the shogunate against his own master, Tadayuki, in order to save him. Daizen confronts Tadayuki, Jutayu, and others in Edo Castle, exposing the crimes of the wicked ministers and explaining that Tadayuki had no intention of rebelling against the shogunate. He then submits to the senior councilors an important secret letter from a Christian believer to Ohide. Tadayuki is not punished, but is merely transferred from Chikuzen to Fukuoka with a fief of 520,000 koku, while Daizen has his family name exterminated for bringing shame on his lord’s family, and is then exiled. Jutayu is also exiled, and Ohide flees. With no more worries, Daizen in exile sits alone in his spacious study, filled with joy that he has finally been able to protect his lord’s clan.

Note: This film has, to my knowledge, never been released on home video or on streaming platforms, in Japan or elsewhere. I viewed it for the first time during the Museum of Modern Art’s (MOMA) Uchida retrospective in New York in 2016, and again in May 2025 at the National Film Archive of Japan (NFAJ) in Tokyo, both times with English subtitles. Because I lack a video source for this title, there will be no screenshots accompanying this review, except for the featured image above. I wish to thank Araki Yuko, the Associate of the Film Collections Department at the NFAJ, for her kind assistance in allowing me to view the NFAJ’s print of this film.

Notes on the Cast

Nanbaru Kōji (a.k.a. Nanbaru Shinji) was a prominent and prolific character actor. Born in Yokohama in 1927 – in Yokohama Prison, in fact, as his father was employed as a warden there – he grew up in Tokyo before being conscripted during the war and sent to China. In 1951, he was chosen as one of Daiei Studio’s New Faces. Shortly thereafter, he switched studios to Toei, appearing under the name “Nanbaru Shinji” (as he does in this film) before changing his professional given name to Kōji around 1960. Among the distinguished directors Nanbara worked with during the 1950s and 1960s were Kinoshita Keisuke (Danger Stalks Near: Fūzen no tomoshibi, 1957), Ieki Miyoji (Stepbrothers: Ibo Kyōdai, 1957), Kobayashi Masaki (The Human Condition, Part I: Ningen no joken I, 1959), Kurosawa Akira (The Bad Sleep Well: Warui yatsu hodo yoku nemuru, 1960), Nomura Yoshitarō (Zero Focus: Zero no shōten, 1961), Tanaka Kinuyo (Love Under the Crucifix: Ogin-Sama, 1962), Shinoda Masahiro (A Flame at the Pier: Namida o shishi no tategami ni, 1962) and Suzuki Seijun (Branded to Kill: Koroshi no rakuin, 1966). One of his best-known villain roles was as a violent convict memorably named Gonda Gonzo, to whom Takakura Ken’s character is involuntarily handcuffed during an escape attempt across the snows of Hokkaido in the hit film Abashiri Prison (Abashiri bangaichi, Ishii Teruo, 1965), the movie that made Takakura a superstar in Japan. In 1979, while still performing in films and television, Nanbara, by then in his early 50s, founded a theater company, Tenchi Geki, in which he frequently performed while mentoring a younger generation of actors. Nanbara died of heart disease in 2001 at the age of 74.

Commentary and Analysis

Overview

When considering Uchida’s work during the six years between 1955 and 1960, inclusive – the first years of the second phase of his career, following his return from self-exile in China – it’s convenient to think in terms of “The Rule of Three.” There are the three remarkable films he released in 1955, his comeback year: A Bloody Spear at Mount Fuji, Twilight Saloon and A Hole of My Own Making. There are the first three parts of his “performing arts” series, that is, adaptations of classic Japanese theatrical works from the feudal period, which were also released during this period: The Horse Boy (1957), Chikamatsu’s Love in Osaka (1959) and Hero of the Red-Light District (1960). (The fourth and last film in this series, The Mad Fox, would appear in 1962.) And of course, there is his three-part epic, Sword in the Moonlight (1957-1959).

The remaining “trilogy” of this era, however, is a set of three period films united primarily by their extreme obscurity, even among Japanese scholars and movie fans: this film, released in 1956; Rebellion from Below (a.k.a., Counterattack on the Prison Gate Fortress: Gyakushu gokumon toride), also from 1956; and The Thief Is Shogun’s Kin (a.k.a., The Thousand-ryō Lion: Senryō-jishi), released in 1958, the year Uchida turned 60. Following the commercial and critical triumph of A Bloody Spear at Mount Fuji, it was only natural that Uchida would go on explore his obsessive themes in the context of the period film genre. What is remarkable, though, is the fervor with which he committed himself to that genre.

In the prewar era, as far as I can tell, he made only one film set in ancient Japan: The Revenge Champion (Adauchi senshu, 1931, lost), a satire that allegedly ridiculed the conventions of swordfight movies of that time, in the context of the increasing popularity of left-wing ideas. But much had happened to Uchida in the quarter century since that earlier film appeared that led him to take those conventions much more seriously, particularly the very Japanese theme of how one may maintain one’s honor in situations of great social and political conflict.

For better or worse, then, Uchida is known today in the West, to the limited degree he’s known at all, primarily as a maker of period films, especially due to the (relative) popularity of the five-part Miyamoto Musashi series (1961-1965), widely available on DVD. This is despite the fact that neither of the two most critically acclaimed works of his entire career – Earth (1939) from the prewar era and A Fugitive from the Past (1965) from the postwar era – are feudal period films.

To understand the appeal of this genre for Uchida, and his complex attitude towards the feudal world depicted in such films, it might be best to explore the character that I believe to be the most representative, and certainly one of the most interesting, of his feudal protagonists: the Kuroda clan’s head retainer, Kuriyama Toshiaki, known as Daizen – an actual historical figure.

The Good Counselor

Some historical background is necessary to understand the power dynamics involved in the relationships depicted in The Kuroda Affair.

After October 1600, with the triumph of Tokugawa Ieyasu and his clan following the decisive Battle of Sekigahara, the great clans of Japan were divided by the Tokugawa into two camps: the fukai (“inside”) clans and the tozama (“outside”) clans. The fukai clans were led by those daimyō who had been full vassals of the Tokugawa prior to the great battle, particularly those clans whose military prowess had proven decisive for the Tokugawa victory in the civil war (for example, the Ii, the clan depicted as villains in Kobayashi Masaki’s classic film, Harakiri (Seppuku, 1962)). The tozama were generally those clans who had only become allies of the Tokugawa after the big battle or, worse, had fought on the losing side in the war, and thus were forever regarded by the Tokugawa with mistrust and derision. The Kuroda clan was, strange to say, “inside-outside”: they had indeed fought with the Tokugawa during The Battle of Sekigahara, but not as full vassals, and so were considered a de facto “outside” clan.

These distinctions did not become important until the accession of the third Tokugawa shogun, Iemitsu (reigned 1623-1651). Unlike his famous grandfather Ieyasu, Iemitsu had been literally born to rule, and thus did not consider himself beholden to the clans who had fought beside the Tokugawa a quarter of a century earlier, or at least to those who had not been full vassals. Therefore, such clans, like the Kuroda, began to feel extremely nervous and insecure – which was surely Iemitsu’s intent.

As the film begins, the patriarch of the clan, Kuroda Nagamasa, as he lies dying, decides, understandably, that his hot-headed, narcissistic eldest son, Tadayuki, would not be the ideal choice to succeed him as head of the clan during this dangerous period. So he grants him a fief far from the clan’s home province, in effect disinheriting him. At this rejection, Tadayuki completely freaks out, as do his vassals, who threaten to commit mass seppuku to avenge the younger man’s honor. But the leaders among these retainers decide that only the highest-ranking samurai among them may petition Nagamasa for redress, and then commit seppuku together if their request is not granted. This infuriates a low-level retainer named Kurahachi Masatoshi, known as Judayu, because he wants to commit harakiri with the others, yet is regarded as unworthy of the honor because of his low rank.

Nagamasa then reverses his decision, so nobody has to die. But when Nagamasa himself soon passes away, the woefully inadequate Tadayuki succeeds him – and Judayu becomes his dangerous confidante. The only bright spot for the clan is that Nagamasa had, prior to his death, designated the sage Daizen to serve as Tadayuki’s chief advisor, though the latter proceeds to ignore absolutely all of the wise counselor’s advice.

The ironic thing about Tadayuki’s follies, such as his keeping and training 200 foot soldiers and even building his own large warship, both strictly forbidden by the shogunate, is that he seems to have no intention of attacking another clan, let alone the shogun. All this weaponry seems to be simply a means to assert his manhood, and perhaps a way to compete with the war generations that preceded his own, though his actions are completely inappropriate at a time of peace. Kataoka Eijirō (no relation to Kataoka Chiezō, who plays Daizen) is perfectly cast in this deeply unsympathetic role. This actor was born to play neurotic, unhappy, weak men struggling against, but failing to transcend, the social destiny into which they were born.

The Helmet

Thus Daizen is torn between his duty to the deceased Nagamasa to protect Tadayuki and his duty to the shogun, as well as his obligations to the clan as a whole, whose long-term interests don’t really coincide with those of either Tadayuki or the shogun. This complex conflict is symbolized by the helmet which was given to Daizen by Nagamasa, who himself was gifted the headgear by Ieyasu following the Sekigahara battle.

In this film, the function of the helmet – which is the first thing we see during the opening credits¹ – as a symbol is subtly different from that of the intimidating suit of armor, the hereditary symbol of the Ii clan, shown in the very first shot of Kobayashi’s Harakiri.² In both films, the military gear represents both the enduring power as well as the awesome weight of patriarchal tradition. But the anti-patriarchal Kobayashi seeks to discredit the whole mythos of the feudal system by ultimately revealing the armor and helmet, those ominous symbols of the warrior past, to be hollow shells, devoid of the meanings attributed to them by the clan.

Uchida can’t quite bring himself to go this far, however. The helmet in his film, unlike Kobayashi’s suit of armor, is not stripped by the director of its mythic significance. But he links that significance not with any daimyo, much less the shogun, but with the faithful retainer, Daizen. Daizen embodies what Uchida sees as the positive values of the feudal system, rather than the values embodied by the system’s leadership (such as his foolish master, Tadayuki), who are mostly driven by the lust for wealth, power and/or sex. So it’s entirely appropriate when the dying Nagamasa gives the helmet not to his heir, Tadayuki, but to his wisest counselor.

(Continued on page 2)

1. This image is accompanied by the sound of hyōshigi (wooden clappers), which, knocked together or on the floor, are traditionally used to begin the performance in, for example, a kabuki or bunraku play. Kurosawa would employ the same aural device in his film version of Gorki’s classic 1902 play The Lower Depths (Donzoko) in the following year, 1957.
2. One wonders if Uchida’s opening shot of the helmet in the credits of this film gave Kobayashi the idea of beginning his film, released only six years later, with the imposing close-up of the empty suit of armor of the Ii clan.