Just an introductory clip featuring outlaw characters from one of my favorite tv shows of all time. Thank you, YouTube.
All of the following images are owned by Warner Bros. Ent.
Finally writing out some thoughts I've been ruminating on for some time now...My culture classes here have all been very stimulating, even the business management class I took only for purposes of an easier courseload. My seminar on outlaws in Japanese cinema and theater has been absolutely great. Seriously, saying it's entertaining would be an understatement. It helps that the professor is enamored of her subject and has quite the infectious enthusiasm. So, much of the following flargling is essentially from notes I've been taking in class, my understanding of the lectures, and further contemplation on the matter.
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The Outlaw: one of the most beloved characters in literature, ever.
I mean, who doesn't love a rebel?
Not that all outlaws try to be.
Japan, even with its focus on group harmony and Confucian-derived social values (which, by the way, you will find are still intact today), loves its outlaws. An important--perhaps the most important--function of literature, of stories, whether they be in books, theater, or film, is catharsis. Particularly through the outlaws in our stories, we can live vicariously. (Admittedly it's not as impressive as the Most Interesting Man in the World...)
So, what makes an outlaw in Japan? Well, the same things which make an outlaw anywhere else in the world. An outlaw walks outside the lines of acceptable behavior as defined by a society. Because those lines which definite social acceptability change over time, the kind of person the outlaw generally is depends on the period. For instance, the theme of the giri-ninjou conflict--obligation and loyalty vs. empathy and human nature--has been prevalent in Japanese theater at least since the feudal era of Japan. ("For I am a slave of duty!" says Frederic.)
What it comes down to though, and this has always been so, is self-expression. Even before the outlaw archetype was really established in Japanese literature, it was those pesky passions and outbursts that got kami like Susanoo in so much trouble. Not that expressing oneself has ever been seen as evil; in fact, those rages and outbursts are associated with divine, godly energy. Still a no-no.
If expressiveness, and the active spirit required to do have it, is frowned upon, that places the social values more on self-repression and passivity. Indeed, this is even reflected in the style and quality of acting in kabuki theater; the more understated and stoic an actor can be, the more restrained his voice and movements, the more the audience can perceive how he (as the character) is holding back, the greater a performer he is. This also shed a new and interesting light on seppuku. Suicide is the most extreme and ultimate act of self-repression, or more accurately, of self-annihilation, of extinguishing oneself. (Although this is making simple of a slightly more complex matter.)
So, how do our heroes cross these lines to become outcasts? Sometimes he is provoked into losing his temper or speaking out against those who have a social advantage over him. Sometimes, he condemns himself in rightfully defending another's honor from a villainous personage of higher rank and power. Sometimes, he doesn't do anything wrong at all. Many outlaws are relatively innocent: victims of circumstance. Sometimes the downward spiral occurs from him simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. More often than not, the Outlaw is actually a kind person, with good intentions, though there are of course...grey-er outlaws. (Those of us who travel in the nerdier circles of life involving DnD can think of the differences in the alignment axes: the scale from good to evil versus the scale from lawful to chaotic.) Rarely ever is the Outlaw truly evil though; the only true villains in these stories those who are disloyal. Not dissimilar to certain Western trains of thought:
"You know, I always forget. At the very bottom of hell, in the ninth circle, the devil's frozen in ice, right? He's got three heads, three mouths, and these mouths are reserved for the worst sinners. Now, I can't remember, who is in the center mouth? Wh-what was his name? The one person in all of human history who was deemed the greatest sinner. Who is it?"
"Judas Iscariot.”
"Right. The worst spot in hell is reserved for those who betray... So don't pretend you're too good to work for us."
So, the Japanese Outlaw is similar to the Western Outlaw in his moral codes and in his circumstance: he may be anywhere from "grey" to good, ethically, but it was the order which he defied. He may have become what he is through his own mistakes, or he might have been framed or tricked. Both are tragic heroes. The main differences in these two characters is how they handle and react to the situation of being an outlaw. The Japanese Outlaw, though exiled for somehow going against the order of things, will accept his fate with dignity and grace.
(Well, with as much dignity and grace as suicide by self-
disembowelment allows. And the samurai class worked very, very hard to ensure that seppuku was carried out with as much dignity as possible. There's a reason it's called ritual suicide.) The point is that in Japan, it is considered subversive to struggle against fate, and so the Outlaw eventually extinguishes himself, for the greater harmony of the group...even if it means leaving behind his family, retainers, and servants. Duty to one's lord still comes above all else.
The Outlaw in Western literature, on the other hand, is a survivor. He is disillusioned with the system that made him what he is, to the point that he doesn't believe in it anymore. He continues to defy the order which is probably still trying to catch him to make him pay for whatever wrongs he may or may not have committed, and usually he manages to outwit them and escape, time and time again. The Western Outlaw may defy the established order, but he retains his own code of honor, which may have changed since he was ostracized, or may still be the code on which the system was originally based. When the Western Outlaw is finally cornered, he makes a stand, against all odds. He might die, but if he is going to die, he's going out fighting; then again, he may finally defeat his adversaries, or escape once more to live and fight another day. The fate of this Outlaw isn't set in stone, and his story may have a few possible endings. His choices may determine that ending, or he may be done in by fate after all, but he attempts to make his own luck, choose his own fate.
The Last Samurai is interesting in that its two main protagonists are side-by-side representations of the Japanese and Western outlaw archetypes. The samurai Katsumoto--based on the historical figure Saigou Takamori (whose statue is in Ueno park you will remember, of course)--is a warrior, disillusioned with the system which has turned its back on the principles which defined the samurai class. He does lead an active rebellion against the new government, but he does it out of a sense of loyalty to those values previously held so dear, and by extension, out of loyalty to his lord, the Emperor. Algren, likewise, is a soldier disillusioned with his country, a country which forced him to exterminate innocent people in the line of "duty." He was a good soldier, but the price he paid for it continues to weigh heavily on his conscience. Both men are alienated by their countries. Katsumoto is branded a rebel, and the drunken Algren is effectively a pariah; both sincerely believe in and cling to principles of honor, duty, and righteousness, in a way of life which is slowly dying out.
At the climax of the story, they make a final stand for those principles, against the Imperial Army and quite staggering odds. After the initial victory, however, Katsumoto sees that the army's reinforcements will come, and that his forces--what's left of them--will not be able to hold through a second attack. He took a stand for what he believed in, but still remained loyal to his lord, and his ending is one appropriate for a man of his stature, for a Japanese outlaw-hero. He accepts his fate, defeat, and commits seppuku, with which Algren assists, out of respect for Katsumoto and understanding of bushido.
At the climax of the story, they make a final stand for those principles, against the Imperial Army and quite staggering odds. After the initial victory, however, Katsumoto sees that the army's reinforcements will come, and that his forces--what's left of them--will not be able to hold through a second attack. He took a stand for what he believed in, but still remained loyal to his lord, and his ending is one appropriate for a man of his stature, for a Japanese outlaw-hero. He accepts his fate, defeat, and commits seppuku, with which Algren assists, out of respect for Katsumoto and understanding of bushido.
Algren, the Western outlaw-hero, fights alongside the courageous warrior for their shared beliefs, risks being ostracized by the Japanese government to whom he was originally sent to aid.All in all, it's a nice juxtaposition of the traditional Japanese and Western outlaw archetypes, in a beautiful, bittersweet film.
