The late 1970s and early 1980s were the Golden Age for the Network Event TV miniseries, with programming such as the entertaining soap “Rich Man, Poor Man” (1976), the iconic “Roots” (1977), the powerful “Holocaust” (1978) and the historical epic “Shōgun” (1980) becoming part of the zeitgeist, drawing tremendous ratings and often winning armfuls of awards.
The latter, an adaptation of James Clavell’s 1975 blockbuster novel of the same name, was filmed on location in Japan, aired for five consecutive nights on NBC, scored huge ratings and won Emmys and Golden Globes and a Peabody. While some of the cultural depictions might today seem less than fully rounded, “Shōgun” was one of the most groundbreaking and impactful miniseries of the era.
Now comes the 10-part FX limited series “Shōgun,” a visually spectacular, sweeping epic about long-held and sometimes shockingly brutal traditions, clashing cultures, divided loyalties, political gamesmanship, the cost of war and, yes, a forbidden romance so scandalous for its time that if it were discovered, the punishment would have been death.
Co-creators Rachel Kondo and Justin Marks have assembled a fine team of directors and a greatly talented ensemble cast to deliver engrossing appointment-TV with a cinematic level of achievement. You know how we say certain films should be seen on the biggest theatrical screen available? “Shōgun” should be watched on the largest possible flat screen monitor if you’ve got one. Your smart tablet or, God forbid, your phone will not do it justice.
In the premiere episode, set in the year 1600, a battered European vessel that looks like a ghost ship emerges from the mist and stops just off the coast of a Japanese fishing village. Among the few malnourished and barely breathing survivors is the pilot, one John Blackthorne (Cosmo Jarvis), an Englishman who is taken prisoner and mocked and mistreated as a “barbarian,” but quickly proves to be a wily and formidable sort who insinuates himself with the revered but beleaguered Lord Yoshii Toranaga (the great Hiroyuki Sanada, who is also a producer on the project).
At first, Blackthorne (who is rechristened “Anjin,” the Japanese word for “pilot”) cares only about avoiding execution and regaining command of his ship so he can sail away and never set foot in Japan again, but he finds himself deeply embroiled in much larger, multiple conflicts. A year past the death of the beloved reigning Taikō, the Council of Regents has been established, and the power-hungry and ruthless Ishido Kazunari (Takehiro Hira) is conspiring with the other members to impeach Toranaga, which will lead to Toranaga’s death.
Toranaga enlists the noblewoman Toda Mariko (Anna Sawai, “Pachinko”), who has converted to Christianity and has a tragic and dark past, to act as a translator for Anjin, because Anjin has valuable knowledge about the maneuverings of the Portuguese Catholics, who have profited greatly from trade in Japan and may not be the allies the Japanese believe them to be. Anjin is also enlisted to teach the samurai how to fire cannons for maximum effect, should the inner conflicts among the Council of Regents lead to all-out war.
This is just the beginning of the complications, and at times, it’s a bit difficult to keep up with all the machinations as well as the growing number of characters, how they’re related to one another (sometimes by blood) and how their back stories have informed who they are today. Once in a while, characters will pause for exposition that seems more designed for the viewer than for their own edification, but it works.
As the series progresses, Toranaga and Mariko share equal footing with Anjin as protagonists, with most of the dialogue in the series in Japanese, with subtitles. Anjin strives mightily to learn the language and to respect the customs, but he is horrified by the frequent use of suicide as an honorable exit for a number of characters, and he struggles to understand why certain events in Mariko’s past have her yearning for the release of death. (Conversely, the Japanese are alternately amused or disgusted by Anjin’s aversion to regular bathing, his sometimes loutish ways and his love for foul-smelling cooked pheasant.)
Amidst all the violence and the political chess games and the twists and turns, Anjin and Mariko grow ever closer. (In addition to scenes of gruesome violence, “Shōgun” features a handful of steamy encounters. There are a lot of good-looking people killing each other but also occasionally enjoying each other in this series.)
Production design is flawless. Cinematography is gorgeous. The costumes are something to behold. The series captures the beauty of Japan but also the unforgiving ruthlessness of the terrain; the threat of earthquakes and tsunamis and harsh winters looms large. The performances are universally strong, with Anna Sawai and Hiroyuki Sanada delivering arguably the most resonant work. “Shōgun” is a worthy reimagining of Clavell’s book and the stellar 1980 interpretation and will surely be remembered as one of the best limited series of 2024.
