Ichi, the blind, wandering swordsman, happens upon a small festival and enters an open sumo competition. Exploiting sighted competitors’ assumptions about his disability, he eliminates five consecutive men and claims the top prize. This draws the ire of local yakuza, who identify the legendary swordsman from previous misadventures and place a bounty on his head. As he swiftly eliminates would-be assassins, Ichi is exposed to the clan’s inner turmoil and interferes to the best of his ability. He also bumps into an old love, advises a young admirer and tangles repeatedly with a skilled, testy ronin.

This series had already swapped directors a few times by this point, but maintained a sense of continuity in both visual and thematic senses. Less so in this instance, which feels blander and more workmanlike than the others, force-feeding the character into unfavorable situations and missing subtle details that would have merited a closer look in previous chapters. Shintaro Katsu remains essential in the leading role, expertly alternating between faux merriment and quiet stoicism to suit the situation. Yet, despite this being his story, he’s played as more of a willful fly in the greater ointment than an enigmatic focus and his big action scenes (now far more frequent) are largely misdirected. We get one excellent duel - the climactic final showdown with an equally-skilled rival - but the rest of the film’s fights are of the twelve-on-one variety and that’s not what Ichi does best. If anything, those brawls test the limits of what an audience can be expected to believe. An expert samurai, compensating for his blindness by noting the tight squeak of an adjusted grip or the expectant air of an incoming strike? That’s where it’s at. I can lose myself in such a fable. A cornered fighter, dodging six trained blades in a whirlwind of pure, chaotic, dumb luck? Now I’m having second thoughts.