‘Kokuho’ Review: Tradition, Rivalry, and Tragedy on the Kabuki Stage
In this Japanese melodrama, a young kabuki apprentice is taken in by a star of the art form after his parents are murdered, only to be set on a collision course with the master’s own son.
An old-school Japanese melodrama in the best sense of the term, Kokuho brings together all the expected elements of the genre. It is a classical, emotionally harrowing saga centered on the life of a young man who rises to become a star of kabuki theater. Stretching close to three hours and covering different stages of its protagonist Kikuo’s life, the film interweaves those biographical passages with staged performances of traditional kabuki plays, which serve to echo, connect, and comment on the emotional and thematic turns experienced by him and those around him.
At its core, Kokuho is the story of a surrogate, chosen family. As a teenager, Kikuo—gifted with extraordinary talent as an onnagata, the female role in kabuki traditionally performed by men—is taken in by a celebrated master of that specialty. The adoption follows a violent turning point: in the 1960s, Kikuo’s family is wiped out in a mafia dispute linked to his father. Ken Watanabe plays Hanjiro Hanai, the veteran kabuki star who rescues the boy and patiently trains him in the demanding art of the onnagata, eventually shaping him into a major figure on the stage.
The first—and defining—conflict arises from the fact that Hanjiro has a biological son of his own, also trained in the same tradition but lacking Kikuo’s natural brilliance. Although the two young men form a close bond and even find success performing together as a duo, rivalry is never far beneath the surface. Over the years, that tension deepens, especially as Hanjiro approaches retirement and must name a successor—a deeply rooted custom in the highly codified and tradition-bound world of kabuki.
Based on the novel by Shuichi Yoshida, the film chronicles these relationships and the frictions that shape them. A significant portion of its running time is devoted to exquisitely staged kabuki performances, whose plots—briefly summarized through introductory text—are thematically intertwined with the characters’ personal journeys. These sequences are never ornamental or detached from the narrative; each performance corresponds to a key moment in the story—a debut, an audition, a comeback, an accident, an illness—allowing the film to operate on two parallel levels at once.
Visually striking and unabashedly sentimental, filled with deaths, illnesses, betrayals, romances, deceptions, and every ingredient one expects from a classic melodrama, Kokuho offers several extraordinary moments, particularly for viewers drawn to Japanese cultural rituals and the disciplined, sacrificial beauty of its traditional arts. The film may occasionally feel overstuffed with plot turns or slightly episodic—its story spans half a century, from 1964 to 2014—which at times gives it the texture of a television series. Still, these are minor quibbles in what remains a rare and deeply rewarding cinematic experience.
Directed by Lee —Korean-born but long active in Japan, and previously responsible for films like Villain and episodes of Pachinko— Kokuho strikes a tone that is epic in human terms yet intimate in its personal focus. With outstanding performances by Ryo Yoshizawa as Kikuo and Ryusei Yokohama as his brother, friend, and rival Shunsuke, and the commanding presence of Watanabe as the stern father figure and kabuki legend, the film recalls the great Japanese tragic dramas that once circulated widely decades ago. In its own way, Kokuho stands not only as a tribute to kabuki —a form of performance learned through lived experience and suffering— but also as a loving homage to classical Japanese cinema itself.
