Review: Shogun, "Anjin" | Season 1, Episode 1

An old story seen through fresh eyes...

Photograph by Katie Yu/FX

Welcome to Episodic Medium’s coverage of FX’s Shogun. With the two lengthy first episodes debuting tonight, and available to stream on Hulu, we’re separating the two reviews. The second will arrive tomorrow. As always, this first review is free for all, but subsequent reviews will be exclusively for paid subscribers. To get future reviews (full schedule here) and more for $5 a month (or for $40 a year through 3/4), sign up now.

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My parents owned a copy of Shogun by James Clavell. I can still remember the cover, the bright red on white of the title, the badass samurai sword in the middle. I never read that copy (or any other, although that may change soon), but I mention it here because it feels important for context, anecdotal or otherwise. Shogun was a big deal when it was first published in 1975, and the original miniseries adaptation starring Richard Chamberlain in 1976 only made it that much more visible. The novel was responsible for opening up the country of Japan to a lot of Americans who'd never had much reason to investigate, and the gripping feudal drama grounded by research was the pop culture equivalent of a national history lesson on foreign relations and the context of history.

That was the seventies, though, and we've come a far bit of the way since then. Samurais, power struggles, feudal lords, honor systems, seppuku, and absolutely badass armor—they’re a lot more familiar to the Western world than they used to be. I mentioned I haven't read the book, and I haven't seen the Chamberlain miniseries either, but I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that the latter is framed largely from the perspective of Chamberlain (who plays John Blackthorne, aka Anjin, the white English outsider who arrives at the start of the story). That would make sense, at least in basic dramatic terms--when introducing an audience to an unfamiliar world, having a protagonist who's as much in the dark as we are is a simple but effective way to allow for necessary exposition.

However, in the fifty-ish years since Shogun was originally released, our understanding of the "white savior" narrative in fiction has undergone some dramatic changes. I'm not accusing the book or the original miniseries of being overtly, or even unintentionally, racist—I have my suspicions about the miniseries, given the time in which it was made, but this review isn't about pointing out the sins of media from half a century ago. Instead, I mention this to highlight one of the new Shogun's most immediate and evident strengths: its efforts to shift the story from "outsider learning new world" toward "getting to know various individuals as they vie for power and struggle to stay alive in a very dangerous land."

The "othering" is largely absent from Shogun's first episode, and when it is present, it’s less interested in making us view the Japanese characters as alien, and more invested in providing a reminder of the different mindsets of the period in which the show takes place. No single cultural perspective is valued above the others, and while it may at first seem easier to relate to this show's version of John Blackthorne (played by delightfully named Cosmo Jarvis), it soon becomes apparent that this Anjin is just one part of a much larger, and engagingly complex, whole.

“Anjin” opens with a short scene establishing the desperation of Blackthorne’s crew—the ship has gone around the world in an attempt to break the Portuguese monopoly on trade with Japan, and the trip hasn’t been an easy one. But as soon as Blackthorne’s dire circumstances become clear, the perspective shifts to one of the show’s other central figures, Lord Toranaga, played by the always excellent Hiroyuki Sanada. Toranaga and his entourage are heading to Osaka to meet with the other four lords currently running the country. Elegant exposition establishes that the previous emperor died with his heir too young to take over the job; the emperor, in his wisdom, attempted to achieve stability by giving the five most powerful lords equal say in serving as regent. Unfortunately, four of those lords have banded to together to try and block Toranaga’s rise, which leaves the man in a difficult spot—a familiar spot, for anyone whose reference for the series is less the book it’s adapting and more the smash hit television show it’s most likely to be compared to.

Game Of Thrones made it clear that TV audiences have a vast appetite for political intrigue on a medieval scale, and even in its first episode, Shogun does not disappoint. We are quickly brought up to speed with Toranaga’s dilemma, and while the nuances of the system might not be readily obvious, the core of the conflict isn’t hard to follow. Four against one is straightforward enough, and watching as Toranaga discovers just how precarious his position has become is immediately engaging. There’s also an effort to underline the stakes that is devastating but also delays the central conflict; one of Toranaga’s men, outraged at the insults his master is forced to endure, demands justice during a meeting of the five lords. For his lack of self-control, honor demands the man sever his line—which means killing his infant son, regardless of his wife’s protestations.

The secret to Game of Thrones’s popularity, at least in broad strokes, wasn’t hard to grasp: melodramatic intrigue with life or death consequences set in a time and place where such consequences were stripped free of the polite veneer of civilization makes for compelling viewing. Shogun follows in those steps with its own particular flavor, and the production value, strong performances, and surprisingly dark twists make it feel fully realized to the viewer right out of the gate. Putting aside the GoT comparison (and, rest assured, I’m not going to keep bringing that show up), “Anjin” does a great job of grabbing your attention and then earning it by refusing to indulge in overly obvious exposition dumps. 

At times we are almost as lost as Blackthorne himself—almost. But while he struggles to save his men (one of whom is boiled alive by one of Toranaga’s underlings, a weirdly charming bastard with an interest in death) and rails against what he views as the “barbarism” around him, you never get the sense that we’re supposed to agree with his perspective. He is, after all, on his own kind of religious mission, wanting to help England push back against the Portuguese, whose Catholic doctrine has already made considerable inroads into Japanese culture. Blackthorne is a Protestant, and while I’m not an expert on 17th century European politics, there’s enough complexity here to keep the story from presenting as another “white man saves the day” deal.

If I’m being reductive about those narratives, it’s only because I think Shogun is doing a great job making an already good story even more nuanced and thrilling. I want to read the book now, I think—and I definitely want to see what happens next.

Stray observations

• I should probably come up with some kind of reasoning as to when I use “Anjin” and when I use “Blackthorne.” (“Anjin” is the name the Japanese give Blackthorne; it means “pilot.”) Maybe that reasoning will become easier to find once the character starts to integrate into Japanese society.

• I know the guy had to execute his baby, but did he kill himself as well? Unclear.

• Blackthorne and Toranaga are two of the three major players in the series; Anna Sawai plays the third, Toda Mariko. Mariko is a devout Catholic who’s married into Toranaga’s household—she’s very smart, but it’s not entirely clear what her motives are just yet. (Hell, you could say that about everyone. This is a good thing.)

• FX released two episodes tonight, and you can look forward to my review of “Servants of Two Masters” popping up on the website at some point later tomorrow. Looking forward to covering this one!