Shigurui has a subtitle. The subtitle is “Death Frenzy”, which sounds cheap as well as nasty. But don’t be fooled, Shigurui is just unadulterated nasty. Bearing in mind that this is a samurai show, that it has a deadly rivalry, betrayals, that it’s called “Death Frenzy”, one might expect something a bit pulpy – something fun. Instead we get a mesmerising dirge.

Yes, it’s a procession of fight scenes, a deadly rivalry, mysterious sword techniques. And yes, it’s a show which goes to considerable lengths to appal. But, to illustrate, ripping off a woman’s nipple = pretty damn violent, eating said nipple =… well fuck knows what to say about that. This is the samurai fight as nightmare – the violence isn’t exhilarating, it’s sickening. Shigurui is aggressively unpleasant, forcing the audience to come to terms with the nihilistic cruelty of a society which rewarded the homicidal. The plot, the rivalry, the revenge, is really secondary to the sheer horror of every episode.

Incidentally, this is a series I heard people badmouthing for its ending, which leaves a lot open. Yet those last episodes really might be the very best in terms of execution. Personally, I think I enjoyed the show more through knowing in advance that the ending was not going to be conclusive – because the atmosphere is what matters. Above all else, I don’t think this show needs another season. Not that it doesn’t merit one, but frankly I reckon its work is done – and what mattered was the way it painted the picture, not the outcome of yet another samurai grudge-match.

As the show got underway, my initial inclination was to favour the restrained dutiful samurai (becuase he isn’t a smirking contortionist nutjob). The introduction might suggest loyal Fujiki as a victim – only to go on to prove that relentlessly sticking by your masters in this setting means sticking by leering drooling evil. the powers that be are deranged, yet the only way to pursue change is anarchistic selfishness. There’s no nice guy to hang onto here, everyone is thoroughly messed up, and the 12 episodes just serve to explore the extent of their unpleasantries in necessary detail.

That universal psychosis is at least egalitarian, and also affects the female characters (who generally just spend the whole series getting abused). It’s a strong condemnation of a brutal society, although one which produces a rather dramatically monochrome series (my favourite episode was the one with the multiple assassinations – which granted a hint of range to the unpleasant cast). The emotional blankness of the cast is understandable, but quite wearing and about a subtle as a handful of snapped fingers.

The way Shigurui works its way into the minds of stable human beings is via unadulterated shock value, plunging us headfirst into cold shitty waters. The extremities of action are matched by extremes in lighting in what is a very well drawn environment. The show succeeds in being vivid even when it’s gloomy, of keeping itself right in your face even when relatively little is happening. Often it achieves this via daydreams, fantasies, time shifts – it disorients to grab attention. The plot is stable, even predictable, but the writers and directors control the pace tightly to stop the impact from fading. The upshot of this is a powerful experience for the duration of each episode, but a lag in the middle of the series as the plot proper doesn’t always carry so much weight as these short term mechanics.

On to the gore. Shigurui has its own gruesome obsessions, and the procession of trailing organs shtick can get a bit much. In general it is voyeuistic, it examines wounds in almost ridiculous close up slow motion captures. Head chopping, eyeball eating, skin slicing. It succeeds as a horrorshow, but still feels sordid. It’s worth comparing this obscenity to the (less frequent) bouts of (dirty) sex. Martial artists were not ascetic monks. In general I have more admiration for the sex scenes in Shigurui, because the act itself is so often avoided by various fighting shows. This is still sordid, and bondage plays a noticeable part, but sex contributes greatly to the warts and all feeling – and is often well directed.

Meanwhile, the direction of the fight scenes is highly distinctive – with a lot of those disorienting tricks. In following the samurai style we get a lot of the whole ‘take a stance, pause, strike, pause, bleed, die’ pattern. We also get a fetishised approach to the muscular male body alongside a creepy overemphasis on muscles and bones in the visuals which justifies the show as animation. The wounds are realistic, but the style wouldn’t suit live action. It’s dehumanising and explicit, with fights ending with arbitrary rapidity. It succeeds in being not much fun, but achieves hypnotic intensity to avoid boredom.

Yet that direct and forceful approach is married to a certain mysticism. There’s a distinctly preternatural edge to Shigurui – a show in which teams of Ronin are eliminated barehanded, blind men defeat seasoned killers. Not only do the combatants achieve unrealistic strength, they champion (and the show champions) the ritualistic honour of the samurai. When approached by a blinded assassin, one does not run round him in circles lobbing pebbles at his crotch – samurai go head to head. It’s a condemnation, but it persists in painting these old warrior heroes as supernatural – man as a gleaming dragon. That deliberate anatomical viciousness doesn’t undermine the mythologised samurai – it just puts him in his place, the mental asylum.

Mental Asylum Japan, that is. Where balding men murder loose lipped drunks, where local leaders scheme to fulfil solipsistic schemes whilst insane aristocrats play their games with human lives. Even the monstrous Kogan takes a turn as devious courtier. The warrior spirit of old Japan is made exotic, virile, hideous – it’s something Western shows couldn’t do with the same authority for the samurai. Shigurui reminds me of the anti-Western cowboy films, wherein American authors re-evaluated their approaches to their own mystical historical warriors. To show an entire civilisation at its very worst is judgemental, but in Shigurui the horror rings true.

Amidst the perpetual misery there are a couple of nods at the future of Japan. Most interesting is a vile little arse with a “barbarian sword”. The fact is, here in the seventeenth century, the time of the  gunner revolutionary hasn’t yet come. There’s a disturbing hint at new ways, new weapons, but the mythic swordsman, in all his superhuman power, is triumphant. And that doesn’t mean cool moves or mighty friendships, it means savagery. It’s the uncompromising vision of this savagery which makes Shigurui the worthiest show to obsess over the killers of yore, the most valuable pulp horror, the complete opposite of so much anime – and vital as such.