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“The Abyss of Life” is now streaming on Hulu. It premieres on FX tonight at 10pm.
The sky has been gray over Japan for a while now in Shōgun, matching the uneasy, sometimes despairing mood of the series’ characters, but it appears especially grim as “The Abyss of Life” opens and Toranaga’s party makes its way to Edo. Nagakado’s death has touched everyone, even if not everyone can be described as “in mourning” — Yabushige, for one, takes a grimly comic philosophical approach, concluding that Toranaga’s son’s death-by-slipping-on-a-rock-while-trying-to-kill-his-uncle be considered “lower than boiling but higher than eaten by dogs.” But most everyone else takes their cues from Toranaga himself, whose apparent grief makes it difficult to say anything at all. For Blackthorne, arriving at Edo brings conflicting feelings: He looks forward to being reunited with his crew, but, as he has no plans of traveling with Toranaga to Osaka, it also means parting ways with Mariko, which he most certainly does not want to do. The clouds seem to suit everyone.
So maybe that’s why the sun now shines much more brightly on Osaka, where Ishido basks in Toranaga’s downfall with Ochiba, to whom he credits the scheme that brought down his rival. Ochiba is not quite ready to celebrate yet, however, nor is she particularly enthused about Ochiba’s suggestion that they marry to formalize their alliance. She doesn’t say “no,” but nothing about her reaction suggests she’s leaning toward a “yes.”
In Edo, Toranaga’s inner circle mourns Nagakado, recalling his youthful foibles with good humor. Or some of them react this way. For Omi, the painful loss only underscores his disappointment at Toranaga’s surrender; Nagakado might have been foolish in his aggressiveness, but at least he was refusing to lie down. The next day, they continue their mourning without Toranaga, said to be too ill to attend his son’s funeral, which undoubtedly contributes to the sense of discontent. Yabushige agrees with his nephew and wants to march on Osaka. Some generals wear their armor in silent protest of Toranaga’s decision. The sadness can’t quite drown out the restlessness.
But just how ill is Toranaga? He’s not so ill as to be without need of Mariko, as she learns when Buntaro interrupts a meeting with Ochiba’s sister and her child (who can at least rest easy having received word that her family will be spared after Toranaga’s surrender). Buntaro also lays the groundwork for a different sort of meeting, informing Mariko that he’d like to make tea for her. This, we’ll soon see, is not a casual request.
Other tense meetings precede that proposed tea ceremony, however. Blackthorne reluctantly reunites with Father Martin, who unkindly concludes that Blackthorne has been “cut loose” or else he wouldn’t be living so far away from his lord. But Blackthorne has plans, he tells Father Martin — plans that, you guessed it, involve reclaiming his ship. There’s more to the plan, too, including a reunion with his crew and a confrontation with the Portuguese Black Ship. “Tell me,” Father Martin replies, “will you wear those clothes when you see your men?” Even he probably doesn’t realize how cutting this remark will prove in time.
Father Martin next meets with Toranaga, and Mariko serves as translator as he delivers the bad news that the Christian council members cannot be brought over to Toranaga’s side. Toranaga does not take this well, blaming the Catholic Church for its lack of support. Father Martin attempts not only to clarify this but to offer some strategy: Why not form an alliance with Ochiba? After all, they both loved the Taiko and the heir. It makes sense, right? Hiromatsu also sees the wisdom in this idea, but Toranaga remains unconvinced, believing that, above all, Ochiba hates him. Whatever sense the alliance might make on paper, this will only get in the way.
And, while they’re talking, Toranaga continues, Hiromatsu needs to stop questioning his decision to surrender and tell the generals to do the same. Toranaga might be a dead man walking, but he’s still in charge for now. He leaves with a parting gift for Father Martin, who will be allowed to build his church in Edo. All is lost, it would seem. Counterpoint: This is a ploy, and Toranaga plans to fight — or at least that’s what Hiromatsu tells the others as Father Martin walks away, bound for Osaka with the message that Toranaga just wants to die in peace.
Then it’s time for tea. In a beautifully staged scene, Buntaro prepares tea for his wife with great formality and with a precision and attentiveness to detail that pleases her. It’s a bittersweet moment in their fracturing marriage. Buntaro remembers the happiness of their early days together. Mariko, as she politely puts it, struggles to remember it the same way. When Buntaro asks if she still has feelings for Anjin, she doesn’t reply. So he pivots, proposing a double suicide, which will end their shared misery and protest Toranaga’s decision to give up. For Mariko, this proposal is just a continuation of Buntaro’s habit of just not getting it. She doesn’t want death for death’s sake; she wants to be away from him. He abuses her and overwhelms her and she wants to be done with this. When Buntaro cries after she leaves, is he at last starting to understand the woman he married?
One memorable scene of estrangement follows another — albeit an estrangement of a much different kind. Seeking out his men, Blackthorne finds them in Edo’s slums, living a drunken existence in the stinkiest part of town. Disgusted, he tries to walk away, only to be spotted by Salamon, who informs him his crew has been reduced to six men who are half-dead and assumed their pilot was fully dead and moved on, fully committing to a decadent life in Japan. What’s more, they’ve come to suspect they’re only there because of Blackthorne’s ambition, not a real threat that caused him to change course. The fight that follows doesn’t just end their relationship (and seemingly Salamon’s life) — it cuts Blackthorne off from his old life, possibly forever.
Blackthorne’s next steps begin with a strange alliance. With Mariko’s help, he scores an audience with Yabushige in the hope of — yes, that’s right — regaining control of the Erasmus and sailing the seas. He wants this so badly, in fact, that he’ll sail under the banner of the man who boiled one of Blackthorne’s shipmates alive, a real “shitface,” in Blackthorne’s words. Yabushige turns him down, but not for the expected reasons. He’s also now convinced that Toranaga hasn’t given up and wants to wait to see what happens next. This leads to an unexpected confession. Blackthorne realizes that he doesn’t truly belong in Japan, but he doesn’t belong anywhere, really, and sees Yabushige as a kindred, maverick spirit. What he fails to understand, Yabushige and Mariko (but especially Mariko) try to convey, is that loyalty supersedes even the likelihood of death. It’s not what Blackthorne wants, for himself or Mariko. But this is what he’s stuck with anyway.
That pride in service carries over to the next scene, in which Kiku looks on happily as Gin cries at the sight of what appears to be marshlands. But where others might see a wasteland, she sees potential for the city to come. Also watching this from a short distance away: Father Martin. It appears that the courtesan teahouses and the cathedral will have to find a way to live side by side.
As these future neighbors consider new beginnings, Ochiba has to consider an end: Lady Daiyoin, the Taiko’s widow, has suffered a stroke. Her dying wish is for Ochiba’s promise to release the hostages and “stop these games” that are destabilizing their nation. Will Ochiba honor the request? It’s tough to read the expression that crosses her face as Daiyoin breathes her last breath.
Back in Edo, if Toranaga is disingenuous about surrendering, he has an odd way of conveying it. One by one, he has his vassals sign a list promising their surrender, and when it’s Hiromatsu’s turn, he attempts to call Toranaga’s bluff. But the exchange that follows suggests there is no bluff. Even when Hiromatsu suggests they stay and fight in Edo, Toranaga cannot be persuaded, reasoning that the good of Japan outweighs the good of the clan. In the exchange that follows, Hiromatsu suggests he can no longer follow Toranaga. Left with no other option, he commits seppuku, though it means dying in vain.
But did he? Later that night, Mariko tries to make sense of it all as she talks to Toranaga. And it turns out there is sense to be made: Toranaga knew Blackthorne would turn to Yabushige and that any reluctance to form an alliance would fall away with Hiromatsu’s death. They’re both “goshawks” to be thrown at opponents. But that means, Mariko quickly deduces, that Toranaga knew Hiromatsu would take his life, which also means the two of them must have planned this. Although Hiromatsu is truly dead, his seppuku was essentially a con job to persuade everyone that Toranaga has really given up. It’s a scheme within a scheme, and only one question remains: Will Mariko also play the role she needs to play? But this isn’t really a question at all.
As the episode draws to a close, some major characters appear to get what they want. Ochiba’s gestures suggest she’ll accept Ishido, and Blackthorne gets his ship back thanks to an alliance with Yabushige, with an unexpected passenger accompanying them: Mariko. Toranaga, too, is in the position he wants to be, but at what cost? He has lost his closest adviser (who also served as a mentor and a friend) and a son whose death was a parting gift, buying him time. Was it worth it? That’s a question left for Shōgun’s final two episodes to answer.
Feudal Gestures
• Shōgun has been compelling from the start, but it’s picking up some serious closing speed in the back half of its run. Two weeks ago brought the (apparently deferred) promise of Crimson Sky. Last week’s episode ended with a powerful shock. “The Abyss of Life” ends with a series of question marks, none more prominent than this one: What is Toranaga doing? The death of his son complicates this question. Hiromatsu’s sacrifice appears to have been long in the works. Nagakado’s death, however beneficial it might have been, was not. Does he have a clear head for what comes next?
• Similarly, every episode has looked great, but this one nails the moodiness. I was kind of shocked to learn the series was filmed in British Columbia, but if the early seasons of The X-Files taught us anything, it’s that British Columbia can stand in for just about anywhere. Let’s tip a hat to director Emmanuel Osei-Kuffour and cinematographer Marc Laliberté.
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By Keith Phipps , 2024-04-09 07:00:18
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