The Samurai (aka Der Samurai) is a wonderfully odd duck of a horror film and an interesting debut for German filmmaker Till Kleinert. A somewhat Lynchian riff on the cat & mouse thriller, it almost plays like a more surrealistic take on The Hitcher (the original, of course) at times. Our tale finds us following a quiet and unassuming small-town deputy named Jakob (Michel Diercks) as he goes about his daily life. Jakob has no friends and his only family is a grandmother whose memory is fading away more each day.
On the professional front, he has been tasked with ridding his little town of a wolf that has been causing problems. Instead of attempting to capture or kill the beast, he seems content to just leave a bag of bloody goodies in the forest for it to munch on every day. Jakob hopes that this will keep the animal away, but thus far it only seems to be inspiring it to stick around. I can’t imagine why?
It’s clear that Jakob would prefer to have a life of his own and beyond the town itself, but his duty to his grandmother has him anchored to the place where he grew up. Everyone knows Jakob and no one seem to hold him in high regard or respect him. Simply put, he’s a mindless cog in a country town machine. He wakes up, goes to work, and returns home without making any waves. It’s enough to drive someone mad and, funnily enough, perhaps it has?
This story wouldn’t be much fun if someone or something didn’t enter stage left and shake things up. And so enters the titular “samurai” (Pit Bukowski – how’s that for a name!); a mysterious lanky & limber man clothed in a white dress and wielding a katana. Naturally, he’s out to cause trouble; first on a small scale and then later on a larger one. He also has some kind of odd, almost psychosexual fascination with Jakob.
Where Jakob is a walking sack of repression, the samurai is inhibition personified. He reacts purely on instinctual animal desires and is a rollercoaster of emotions, holding nothing back in a journey whose primary goal appears to be pushing Jakob to express his true self. Constantly perching, running, leaping, and swaying like a creature instead of a person, the samurai expresses himself just as much in guttural growls and moans as he does in words.
While other characters weave in and out of the story, the focus is primarily on Jakob and our titular fiend. It is their antagonistic dance throughout that really matters. Sure we get creepy moments and the occasional spurt of blood and carnage, but the relationship between hero and villain and the blurred line between them is what really stuck with me.
The Samurai isn’t perfect, but it’s incredibly odd and interesting in the best ways. A moody, atmospheric courtship of a thriller that is sure to bring some delight to those who are open to the weird tale being told. Check it out when you get the chance. I’d also recommend keeping an eye out for whatever writer/director Till Kleinert does next. He’s one to watch and so is this film.