The man whose profession is arms should calm his mind and look into the depths of others.

-Hojo Shigetoki (1198-1261)

Given that I talked about being a warrior in a videogame in my previous post, I thought it would only be appropriate and make my first official review about real-life warriors; specifically, The Last Samurai, one of my favorite movies. We'll address the obvious issues most people have with the film before diving into the story:

-Yes, it is a rather idealized representation of how the samurai actually behaved and how tightly they adhered to their principles. However, not only is this easily excused because it's fiction, intending to make specific points rather than be a perfectly accurate representation of history, but because the samurai are just a vehicle for the some deeper examinations about life and war in general. More on that later.

-No, the title does not refer to Tom Cruise's character, nor even Ken Watanabe's character; at least, not the latter specifically. As explained by the director, the title refers to the samurai as a social class.

The Last Samurai proper begins with Nathan Algren (Tom Cruise), a veteran of both the Civil War and the American Indian Wars, now working to promote the sale of Winchester rifles to civilians. As is quickly apparent, Algren is a broken, troubled man, so haunted by the atrocities he has committed during his time with the Cavalry that he devotes all of his money to keeping a drink in his hand as often as possible. Hired by the Japanese government to train their newly-Westernized army, he comes into conflict with the samurai lord Katsumoto (Ken Watanabe) and ends up a prisoner. Algren doesn't spend his time in chains, though; brought to a remote mountain village as winter sets in, there is no need to keep him confined, so Algren spends his time conversing with Katsumoto, observing the Japanese people and culture, and learning their ways of warfare and philosophy.

Standing against the shadows

Let's be frank: I am a gaming enthusiast, particularly videogaming. My mother likes to tell the story of how, as a young child, I managed to climb up to the family computer and turn it on. I prefer the story of how my dad would sit me on his lap while he played Lemmings, and we would "work together" to solve the puzzles. Of course, I was too young to really understand what was going on; I knew that we needed to get the little green-haired men from one door to the other without losing too many to traps or pits, but it would be a few more years before I understood how that was accomplished. But it was enough; I loved the colorful environments and the classical music that sparked the imagination and the creative solutions my dad came up with to help the Lemmings reach the exit. (Though, I'll admit, part of it was watching the fireworks whenever we got stuck and needed to restart the level. What can I say, kids love explosions.)

After that, I devoured anything gaming-related I could get my hands on. I'd beg to play my cousins' Nintendo Entertainment System when we went over to visit, used birthday money to buy a Game Boy and plowed my way through every shareware games disc we could find. But more significant than any of those, the one experience that I could say has influenced me more than any other, is one I'll never forget: me, my dad and the Skeleton King.