For better or worse, Lee Sang-il's retelling of Unforgiven accounts for a profound psychological shift, one akin to transformation. At journey's end Ken Watanabe's Jubei finds himself staring down a familiar shithole, drunk and out for blood. Lee's film treats this ferocity as a dead end for the character, rather than an aspect of his personality. In the 1992 original, Clint Eastwood's William Munny placed himself in a desperate, suicidal situation then reacted with supernatural calm to the violence directed at him. This is what allows him to clear a bordello. He doesn't hurry, he doesn't make mistakes. In this telling, Jubei has instead snapped, becoming a kind of demon. Lee's stormy, deteriorating mise en scene suggesting all the great damned Samurai from Ryunosuke Tsukue in The Sword of Doom to Ogami Itto in the Lone Wolf and Cub cycle.
Eastwood and Lee's films differ in how their heroes are communicated to us. After his massacre Munny seems to readjust instantly, compartmentalising his violence. It's easy for us to accept this too - the confrontation was cathartic, happening in response to a friend's murder. It's satisfying. The shift packing you off to bed after your umpteenth viewing on late-night television. Lee's film is the opposite. Jubei's moment almost seems like a fumble. Firearms play a key role - always disappointing in a chanbara - and Watanabe sleepwalks through the encounter. Jubei's violence is slow, a monster demonstrating deliberation in the midst of amateurs. It's messy, more like a scuffle, designed to not quite please. Men aren't cleaved by swords; weapons bite on bone then break. Jubei isn't the same kind of man as Munny either, he can't turn it on or off. Once he's tasted blood he's keyed in, fated to wander - seething - until his batteries run dry.
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