SHOGUN WORTH WAIT
Ten years in the making, new series is what thrillers wish they were
Shogun Disney+
Shogun is riveting. It's gorgeous. It's the TV equivalent of a page-turner. And if you consider the source text — James Clavell's 1975 novel clocked in at 1,299 pages — that's no small feat. Condensing a story of that length, set in 1600s Japan, into 10 hours that will be legible to audiences? Hopeless. But the FX adaptation now streaming on Disney+ pulls it off. The limited series sets up the baroque political situation in 1600s Japan with dizzying economy and moves swiftly into what really matters: the thrilling chess matches between the principals.
The series begins with the death of the Taiko, whose sole heir is underage. He set up a Council of Regents made up of bitter rivals to rule in his son's stead until he comes to maturity, and one of these, Ishido (Takehiro Hira), has recruited three others into an alliance to impeach (and kill) the fifth, Toranaga (Hiroyuki Sanada), arguably the most powerful and influential daimyo. Characters are introduced at a breakneck pace, establishing the contours and habits of Japanese diplomacy, the way etiquette can be surgically weaponized, the various regents' positions and animosities, the bargains their underlings strike to gain political advantage and the way the Portuguese (and the Catholic Church) have insinuated themselves into this web of interests. Add to that the ambitions of the Dutch Protestant hostility toward Catholics and the specific temperament of an English pilot named John Blackthorne (Cosmo Jarvis) who was, in the novel, the protagonist.
The Disney+ version, which creators Justin Marks and Rachel Kondo spent 10 years crafting, resists that appealing but somewhat parochial storytelling shortcut without overcorrecting for the impulse. The new series doesn't exactly decenter the English “anjin” (the Japanese characters' name for him); he remains a handy and charismatic catalyst for the plot and his arrival provides an excuse for the disorientation viewers will probably feel while watching the first episode. But he shares top billing with Toranaga (who claims him as his vassal), Toranaga's bitter and honour-bound interpreter Lady Mariko (Anna Sawai) and (arguably) his deputy Yabushige (Tadanobu Asano), a fickle opportunist who enjoys boiling men alive.
Shogun will inevitably be compared to Game of Thrones because it hits that proven combination of gorgeous set pieces, moral ambiguity, cliffhangers and extreme, distressing violence. Also, perhaps, because it so gratifyingly marries the pleasing grandeur of an epic with juicy psychological stakes. Shogun easily outperforms the former series, however, when it comes to story, strategy, catharsis and women. The women here are almost without exception (as in Thrones) suffering greatly and unwilling artists at strategic but soul-deadening restraint. That's a thankless narrative position to occupy. It's seldom written well, and acting one's way out of that particular social and psychic trap is rarely convincing.
The show isn't perfect. There are perplexing plans and plot developments that could arguably rise to the level of plot holes. But those feel like quibbles given the satisfactions this series delivers and all the source material it had to expunge.
Best of all, perhaps? It's funny, and not always in ways that translate to “comic relief.” The humour feels architectural, constitutive (one character reacts to virtually everything by smiling or laughing). Sometimes the comedy is dark. Sometimes it's straightforward and even obvious — the stuff you'd expect when two cultures clash. But sometimes — in the last couple of episodes, especially — it'll leave you gasping. Not just at the wry audacity of the jokes, but at the artistry it takes to make the punchline feel like part of the payoff.