The opening scene of Takeshi Kitano's The Blind Swordsman: Zatoichi has an edge of pleasant anticipation. A blind man hobbles down the road, leaning on his ornate red cane. A group of meaty thugs are heading his way, armed with swords. You know exactly what will happen when they meet; sure enough, that red cane turns into a sword, showers of blood erupt, and the thieves are reduced to an array of dismembered limbs, all in a matter of seconds. The blind man continues on his way, and you smile; this is exactly what you'd expect from a film with this title.

Then the blind man, Zatoichi (played by Kitano), arrives in a small village where the workers in the fields pick at the dirt in perfect synchronization with the soundtrack. It reminded me of the rhythmic sectionf of Dancer In The Dark, and it's the first oddball moment in a film full of them; the film is frequently a comedy, often a thriller, and every now and then a musical. The styles don't necessarily overlap; you may feel as if you're watching several different films at once, especially since Kitano often dives without warning into extended flashbacks concerning secondary characters.

Perhaps this will not seem odd to Japanese audiences who are well versed in the Zatoichi mythos; there have been dozens of films about the character, whom I understand is the Eastern equivalent of The Lone Ranger. I don't know how much of the eccentric style of the film comes from Kitano, who is a legend in his own right, but regardless, American audiences will be baffled by much of the film -- very pleasantly so, if they have an open mind.

The plot has to do with the warlords who run the town, mafia-style, extracting payments from the poor villagers in exchange for 'protection.' They've recently hired ex-samurai Hattori (Tadanobu Asano), a noble warrior who longs for a job worthy of him but is willing to be an assasin for the time being. His incredible skills are witnessed early on, and so an eventual battle with Zatoichi is inevitable. Before that point comes, we'll have witnessed quite a few displays of Zatoichi's own skill.

A word on the violence: it is gloriously silly in an extremely graphic sort of way. Kitano's fight choreography is the epitome of grace and simplicity, but once his sword hits its target, blood bursts from bodies like brilliant red fireworks. Almost all of it is accomplished with CGI effects of a level that wouldn't pass muster in Hollywood these days, but that's a big reason why it works. Like the geysers of brightly-colored gore in Kill Bill Vol. 1, the lack of realism makes the violence easy to take and keeps the film in the realm of entertainment. Realistic violence wouldn't be this much fun.

Oh wait -- there is one moment of realism. It occurs at the beginning and is something I've been waiting to see in a samurai film for a long time. When one of the clumsy thieves in the opening scene draws his sword, he accidentally slices his partner's arm open. I'll bet accidents like that happened all the time in Feudal Japan.

Anyway, back to the story. Zatoichi isn't quite the noble warrior one might expect. He doesn't lift a finger against the crime bosses until they cheat him at gambling, his favorite pasttime; that's cause enough for eviscerations aplenty, and soon he's teamed up with a travelling pair of geishas who are out for bloody revenge themselves. The prettier of the geishas is actually a boy in drag, and there's a troubling flashback to him prostituting himself at a very young age. It's meant to be a dramatic character development, I think, but I found myself wondering what it was doing in this movie. Then I realized I could actually ask the same question about every other scene in the film, and would in asking be answering my own question. This isn't a Kurosawa style samurai film; this is pop culture.

I'm curious as to why Miramax has been so quick to release this film, when they've been sitting on the epic and much more palatable Hero for nearly two years; I'd think that this, technically, is going to be a much more difficult sell. It did win the Audience Award at Toronto last year, an award that makes sesne based on the ending of the film alone. The ending is a juxtapostion of one of Kitano's graceful fight scenes with an over the top tap-dance number, featuring the entire cast, and it's so joyful and invigorating that, no matter what you thought of the rest of the film, you won't be able to think badly of it when the credits roll. You may be wondering what exactly you just saw, but you'll definitely be smiling.