PRINCIPAL EXAMINATION (中山教頭の人生テスト, Dai Sako, 2025)

What is the place of the teacher in the contemporary society? Are they extensions of authority whose only role is to insist on order and produce children who will be obedient and know how to follow rules, or is it to educate and care for them so they can become the best versions of themselves free from the pressures of a conformist society? After taking some time away from active teaching, an absent-minded deputy headmaster finds himself confronted by just these contradictions as he’s suddenly tasked with taking over a class of primary school children while studying for the exams to qualify as a head teacher.

A mild-mannered man, it’s clear that Nakayama (Kiyohiko Shibukawa) is already overloaded and that the headmistress, Ms. Takamori (Eri Ishida), delegates most of her work to him. Though he was a frontline teacher for most of his career, he took an admin job after his wife’s death and seemingly lost his enthusiasm for the profession but quickly finds himself in the middle of a wider dispute about the scope of a teacher’s responsibilities to their students. He’s asked to take over after the current teacher, Kurokawa (Shu Watanabe), takes a leave of absence having come in for criticism from the children and their parents over his overly harsh teaching style. We see him force the children to repeat their morning greeting several times because they were not “in unison,” while he otherwise singles children out in front of the class for various rule infractions or poor performance. He appears to be more or less bullying some of the students, including Reona (Michiru Kushida), who comes from a single-parent family and is not able to get her mother to check her homework over for her because she just doesn’t have time.

There is a degree of push and pull between the teachers and parents over the shared responsibility for educating the child with some feeling that asking parents to do this kind of task is unreasonable while also reinforcing traditional gender roles in expecting there to be someone at home who is always available and dedicated only to raising children. This mistaken assumption disadvantages children like Reona while also stigmatising her in front of the rest of the class. Meanwhile, teachers are overly cautious of upsetting parents if they tell a child off in school. One irate father makes a point of coming in to see them when his son was merely questioned about something that happened after class and appears to be something of a bully himself. His son was one of the boys who criticised Kurokawa, and seems to have a lot of pent-up anger that could become a problem in the future but there isn’t much they can do about it at school. 

Kurokawa had only been appointed because Ms. Takamori insisted on temporarily suspending the original teacher, Ms. Shiina (Shiho Takano), because of complaints about something that happened outside of school. She had accepted an invitation to a barbecue with the children’s families where a child fell over and was injured. Ms. Shiina was then criticised for not properly supervising the children though she had only been at the barbecue as a guest and wasn’t responsible for watching them. Nevertheless, she was criticised because her role as a teacher leads people to think that she should be somehow responsible for any children present even when attending in a personal capacity as a private citizen, further emphasising a blurring of the lines when assessing the boundaries around the roles of teacher and parent. 

Ms. Shiina, who also appears to be queer coded, is presented as a more progressive teacher who doesn’t care about playing the game but only about the children’s welfare and wants them to grow up to be morally responsible people who can think for themselves. The irony is that Ms. Takamori may have been similar, later saying that Ms. Shiina reminded her of herself when she was younger, but because of the discrimination and prejudice she faced as a woman she decided her life would be best served by following all the rules so no one could complain. A former champion weightlifter, she had been criticised for a lack of femininity all her life and is also subject to the sexist and misogynistic judgements of the former headmaster, Kishimoto, who has made Nakayama his prodigy, but only if he plays the game which means becoming the kind of teacher who puts appearances first and enforces discipline rather than attempting to find out what’s going on in the children’s lives or fully understand the realities of class dynamics.

Indeed, it turns out to be the kids who are following the rules who are the worst and actively encouraging the semblance of order maintained through hierarchical bullying. Nakayama tries to investigate, but only arrives at half the truth and is torn between his desire to become a head teacher, which means submitting himself to the rigidity of the school system, and the idealism he once had for teaching. He finds himself effectively bullied, pressured into going along with things he doesn’t think are right which is the opposite of what he wanted for the children. As he eventually tells one of them, everything the teachers say is wrong, and what they really wanted to do was right, which is as close to admitting the irony of his position as it’s possible to get. 

The film’s English title has its ironies too as this is also an examination of Nakayama’s principles and how far he’s willing to compromise on them to be validated by the system in becoming a headmaster. He betrays his principles when he takes the test, but gets away with it and is in fact uncomfortably praised for his hardline stance after lying to protect Ms. Takamori by saying it was his decision to suspend a pupil who was caught shoplifting and drinking though some criticise it for its unfairness on the child. After all, suspending them will just result in them having nothing to do and getting into more trouble. But on the other hand, some parents now see this child as problematic and don’t want them back at the school where they worry they may prove disruptive to their own children’s education and development. 

The film offers no solutions though lands on the side of the children rather than the authority, sympathising with Ms. Shiina and encouraging Nakayama to regain his former idealism rather than become just another tool of an already oppressive social system. The fact that Nakayama loses his notebook implies a disregard for the kind of rules that are written in the headmaster’s manual and a return to his own judgement while leaving his final decision ambiguous as to which side of the line he will finally be on or whether he can really change this system from within. Though pretty bleak about the education system and its implications for the wider society, there is still a note of optimism in those like Ms. Shiina who don’t care about the rules so much as the children’s wellbeing that there is still a place for a more idealised form of teaching even within a fairly oppressive society.


PRINCIPAL EXAMINATION screens 31st May as part of this year’s Nippon Connection.

Trailer (no subtitles)

Samurai Hustle Returns (超高速!参勤交代 リターンズ, Katsuhide Motoki, 2016)

At the conclusion of 2014’s Samurai Hustle, it seemed that samurai corruption had been beaten back. Corrupt lord Nobutoki had got his comeuppance and the sympathetic “backwoods samurai” Naito was on his way home having found love along the way. Of course, nothing had really changed when it comes to the samurai order, but Naito was at least carving out a little corner of egalitarianism for himself in his rural domain. 

The aptly named Samurai Hustle Returns (超高速!参勤交代 リターンズ, Cho kosoku! Sankin kotai returns) picks up a month later with Naito (Kuranosuke Sasaki) taking a rather leisurely journey home in preparation for his marriage to Osaki (Kyoko Fukada) only to receive news that there has been a “rebellion” in Yunagaya. Predictably, this turns out to have been orchestrated by none other than Nobutoki who has been released early from his house arrest thanks to his close connections with the shogun but has been humiliated at court and is otherwise out for revenge with a slice of treasonous ambition tacked on for good measure. Just as in the first film, but in reverse, Naito and his retainers must try to rush home to get there before the imperial inspector arrives or else risk their clan being disbanded. 

Meanwhile, the shogun is absent at the wheel after having decided to resurrect an old tradition abandoned because of its expense and inconvenience to make a pilgrimage to Nikko. In an interesting parallel, the farmers are uncharacteristically upset with Naito, blaming him for the destruction of their fields because he wasn’t there to protect them. Naito also feels an additional burden of guilt given that, having run flat out all the way to Edo, he took his time coming back leaving his lands vulnerable to attack while he now risks losing the castle. Nobutoki wastes no time at all looking for various schemes to undermine him while secretly plotting to overthrow the shogun and usurp his position for himself. 

As in the first film, the battle is between samurai entitlement and the genial egalitarianism of Naito’s philosophy. “The real lords of Yunagaya are people like you who are one with the soil,” he tells the farmers, while Nobutoki sneers that “lineage rules supreme in this world, inherited wealth breeds more”. It doesn’t take a genius to read Nobutoki’s machinations as a reflection of his insecurity, that he invests so much in his rights of birth because he has no confidence in his individual talents. Naito counters that it’s the people around him that matter most, “people are priceless. Friends are priceless,” but Nobutoki rather sadly replies that people will always betray you in the end. Even the shogun eventually agrees that “anger brings enemies, forbearance brings lasting peace” but treats Nobutoki with a degree of compassion that may only embolden him in his schemes.

“Nepotism has endangered the shogunate,” the shogun ironically sighs apparently lacking in self-awareness even if beginning to see the problems inherent in the samurai society but presumably intending to do little about them. “No government should torment its people,” Naito had insisted on boldly deciding to retake his castle but even if this particular shogun is not all that bad, it’s difficult to deny that his rule is torment if perhaps more for petty lords like Naito than for ordinary people or higher-ranking samurai. Naito struggles to convince Osaki that she is worthy of his world and only finally succeeds in showing her that she has nothing prove and love knows nothing of class. The people of Yunagaya are impoverished but happy, satisfied with the simple charms of pickled daikon unlike the greedy Nobutoki whose internalised sense of inadequacy has turned dark and self-destructive. 

Then again, Naito is still a lord. He obeys the system out of love for his clan and a genuine desire to protect those around him but otherwise has little desire to change it actively even if his quiet acts of transgression in his closeness with the villagers and professions of egalitarianism are in their own way a kind of revolution in a minor rejection of the shogun’s authority to the extent that the time allows. Nevertheless, with his return journey he once again proves the ingenuity of a backwoods samurai getting by on his wits as he and his men race home to save their small haven of freedom from samurai oppression from the embodiment of societal corruption.


Trailer (no subtitles)

Roleless (宮松と山下, Masahiko Sato, Yutaro Seki, Kentaro Hirase, 2022)

Ever felt like a bit player in your own life? For the hero of Masahiko Sato, Yutaro Seki and Kentaro Hirose’s Roleless (宮松と山下, Miyamatsu to Yamashita), it’s more like he lives ten thousand lives if only for an instant in his life as an extra and may have, in a way, cultivated an image of himself as a blank canvas who no longer exists in an absolute form. In a way you could call it multiverse living, but when confronted with a possible point of origin, a lost selfhood he may have forgotten or wilfully rejected, it presents him with an existential question not so much of who he wants to be but if he wants to be at all. 

We first encounter him as an unlucky retainer in a jidaigeki who is quickly cut down only to rise again and run around the back to give his name as “Miyamatsu, a samurai” to the prop girl who gives him a different hat so can he go back out there and die a second time. Miyamatsu has an air of perpetual blankness in his often vacant expression as if he were both there and not. The film often wrong foots us and we can never be sure what is “real” and what part of a movie, except that it all obviously part of the movie we ourselves are watching. We see what we think are moments from Miyamatsu’s private life only to realise that the camera was rolling all along when someone shouts “Cut!” and it becomes apparent that Miyamatsu was not its main focus. 

Along the way he gives hints of his loss of selfhood, earnestly replying that he doesn’t know when a fellow extra quizzes him on the watch he’s wearing and how he got it but his discomfort could stem from several places and it’s never quite clear how much of an interior life Miyamatsu creates for his various roles, whether he really does just see them as performers of an action, is playing “himself” as he peers over a police cordon at a crime scene, or is a fully fledged person with an individual history. Later he tells a colleague who admires the way he fills in forms at his part time job working at a cable car that he’s always enjoyed the process of filling in a predetermined frame but also that he likes the floating sensation the cable cars give him. 

All of which might explain why he’s so destabilised when a man (Toshinori Omi) approaches him claiming that they worked together as taxi drivers more than a decade earlier and that his name is Yamashita. He apparently “disappeared” after sustaining a head injury and has been “missing” ever since. The man takes him back to the home of his much younger sister, Ai (Noriko Nakagoshi), who has since married and appears to be incredibly relived to see him even if it seems she might also be hiding something. He wonders if it’s suspicious that there are no photos of him in their family home, but is reminded that with the age difference he hadn’t lived there while she was a child and only came back after their parents died to take care of her because she was still in high school. Her husband, Kenichiro (Kanji Tsuda), seems to be constantly needling him though again, it isn’t always clear whether he actually wants him to remember or suspects that he already does and is choosing to pretend not to. 

Even so, Miyamatsu slides into the life of Yoji Yamashita as easily as any other role finding his way back into the character with unexpected moments of connection such as the muscle memory that grants him a perfect baseball swing, or the strangely familiar taste of cigarettes to a non-smoker. Then again, there’s obviously something sinister going on, a darkness underlying his “personal” history that might have made him want to absent himself from himself or else an oppressive sense of bullying that is reflected in Ai’s hesitant answer when Yamashita remarks on what a good husband Kenichiro seems to be. Miyamatsu claims that he’s ever only played one “real” role, and in a way this is it as he begins to claim something like a backstory even if it’s one he may not ultimately want that nevertheless renders him a little less vacant. Mysterious and unsettling, the film asks some probing questions about the nature of identity, whether it is self-defined or gifted, but also discovers a kind of serenity in Miyamatsu’s free floating life of transient realities.


Roleless screened as part of this year’s Nippon Connection

Clip (no subtitles)