Finally, something good to watch on TV again. Amid a sea of Disney-Marvel dross, the drip-feed of mediocre Netflix dime-a-dozens, and billion-dollar adaptations not worth the server space they’re housed on, in comes Shogun — an impressively grand but refreshingly human take on the final throes of Japan’s warring states era.
Each of the major streaming services has tried their hand with a big swords and sandals (or, now katanas and kimonos) epic series. And, with the arguable exception of HBO’s Game of Thrones spinoff House of the Dragon, all have largely failed. Netflix’s The Witcher began with signs of promise in its first season before falling immediately off a cliff; Amazon’s The Wheel of Time and The Rings of Power were, like The Witcher’s later seasons, an insult to fans of the original material; and Disney’s small-screen Star Wars and Marvel servings go from bad to worse to unspeakable.
Shogun, however, gets it right. In addition to its compelling subject matter, gorgeous costumes and scenery, and a number of stellar performances, Shogun stands out by rectifying the largest mistakes of its peers: bad writing and being too rigid or too flexible about adaptation. Its story is told well, its dialogue largely consistent and believable, and, while often straying from Clavell’s book, it nevertheless remains faithful to the spirit.
Shogun follows the story of English pilot (that is, ship navigator) John Blackthorne (Cosmo Jarvis) as he and his dwindling crew are marooned in Japan in the year 1600 after their crossing from Holland. Japan finds itself in a political stalemate after the death of its ruler, the taiko, who left behind a Council of Regents, made up of the five most powerful regional lords, to shepherd the country until his heir comes of age. Blackthorne washes up in lands subservient to one of these competing lords, the great daimyo Yoshii Toranaga (Hiroyuki Sanada). At the same time, the Catholic nations of Spain and Portugal, enemies of Protestant England, monopolize all trade between China and Japan and hold tremendous religious and political influence in the country. Through a chance of fate, and due to his antipathy toward the Catholics, Blackthorne gains the favor of Toranaga, who sees the upstart anjin (“pilot” in Japanese) as a useful pawn in his civil war against his political rivals.
Much of what makes Shogun so compelling is that both book and miniseries are historical fictions: its main characters are loosely based on real-life counterparts, and its story traces the major events that led to the end of the Sengoku era warring states and ushered in the Edo period, which saw the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate. (Any readers who have seen Kurosawa’s movie Ran will have seen a story set during this period.) Toranaga is based on that dynasty’s founder, Tokugawa Ieyasu, while Blackthorne is based on the English navigator William Adams, who did, in fact, crash-land on the shores of Japan and proceeded to more or less Forrest Gump his way through some of the most significant moments of Japanese reunification.
While Clavell and FX’s stories each take major historical liberties — the character of Toda Mariko, for example — Adams was an adviser to Tokugawa Ieyasu, and the cannons from his ship were even used at the decisive Battle of Sekigahara that sealed the latter’s bid for shogun.
Cosmo Jarvis is more than serviceable in his leading role, though oftentimes a bit more wooden than necessary. Much like Blackthorne, Jarvis seems most at home in his scenes at sea, engaging in back-and-forth bantering with the Spanish pilot Rodrigues (played with verve by veteran TV actor Nestor Carbonell) or his halting attempts to give naval commands to his Japanese crew. Hiroyuki Sanada, on the other hand, is tremendous in his portrayal of Toranaga, imperious yet reserved, scheming yet winsome. But the beating heart of Shogun has to be standout Anna Sawai as Lady Mariko, the vassal of Toranaga and interpreter for Blackthorne. The subtleties of her performance shine through whether she is speaking or not, a necessary feature for a character who acts as the bridge between the worlds of Christian and samurai, and between the pulls of duty and love.
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While the show revolves around the trio of Blackthorne, Toranaga, and Mariko, showrunners Justin Marks and Rachel Kondo make a clear point to expand their scope to capture the lives, roles, and culture of turn-of-the-century Japan from various lesser perspectives – a consort, a vassal, and various serfs. Still, despite the many solid performances, my biggest knock on the show is how little time is allowed for characterization between necessary scenes of exposition and action. One of the things Game of Thrones got right that is often overlooked was how it managed and cultivated space for downtime between overserious monologues or political plotting. And as a fan of the novel, this was something I was sadly missing in the streaming adaptation. The in-scene character narration and internal dialogues from the book that offer humanizing or humorous perspective on characters and how they are thinking or feeling, or misunderstanding, are understandably omitted from the show. This is the nature of the medium, of course. But coupled with the limited time dedicated to anything other than moving the plot, it makes the show (and its viewer) feel like it needs room to breathe.
Nonetheless, while there are “I read the book first” gripes for those of us who won’t be able to help but compare it with Clavell’s riveting doorstopper, Shogun is an excellent show well worth your time — stuffed with intrigue, tension, and the best cursing you’ve heard this side of Goodfellas.
J. Grant Addison is a deputy editor for the Washington Examiner magazine.