Kubi

Directed and written by Kitano Takeshi

Cast: Kitano Takeshi, Nishijima Hidetoshi, Kase Ryo, Nakamura Shidō II, Asano Tadanobu

Screened at the BFI Southbank in London, part of the Queer East Film Festival 2025

Review by Mayumi Donovan

I don’t think you truly know what Kubi means unless you are a Japanese speaker. However, you will likely get the idea as soon as the opening credits roll. Kubi literally means “neck,” but in the context of the Sengoku period (roughly 1467-1600), it implied the head — specifically, the severed head of an enemy, which served as proof of victory in battle.

Kubi is a film by internationally recognised actor and director Kitano Takeshi, who also plays a key role as Hashiba Hideyoshi. It’s been six years since his last film, Outrage Coda (2017), and Kubi, produced in 2023, arrives as a large-scale production featuring major names — including Kitano regulars like Kase Ryo and Asano Tadanobu. 

The story is set during the Sengoku period, when Oda Nobunaga (played by Kase Ryo) is the most powerful warlord in Japan. His vassal, Araki Murashige (played by Endo Kenichi), rebels in a failed coup and disappears. Nobunaga's search for Murashige ultimately leads to the infamous Honno-ji Incident (1582), a pivotal event in Japanese history where Nobunaga is betrayed by Akechi Mitsuhide (played by Nishijima Hidetoshi). Many theories surround Mitsuhide’s motives, and here Kitano offers his own interpretation of the event. Once again, Kitano rewrites the rules of the samurai film with his unique and unconventional style.

From the very beginning, you’re warned: this is a film filled with brutal violence and bloodshed —no surprise for those familiar with Kitano’s work. His trademarks are all here: male-dominated storytelling, unflinching action, explicit imagery and moments of dark comedy.  

The samurai world in Kubi can be compared to the yakuza world Kitano has explored in films like Outrage (2010), where the relentless pursuit of power leads to violent and tragic consequences — taking over shima (territories) from rival families. In Kubi, the same struggle plays out over control of ryōdo (domains).

What sets Kubi apart is its ruthlessness. There is no giri or jingi— no sense of duty or moral integrity. In many samurai films, bushido (the code of honour and loyalty) is central. But in Kubi, it’s a pure power game, full of betrayal and blood. Even farmers, like Mosuke (played by Nakamura Shido), are driven to betray their friends in hopes of becoming a samurai. There are no heroes in Kubi — only ruthless ambition and betrayal at every level.

What makes Kubi unique is its clear portrayal of relationships between men. The film opened this year’s Queer East Festival at BFI Southbank – an ideal venue for its premiere. While Kitano has hinted at male-male dynamics in past films, Kubi brings this to the forefront. Though same-sex relationships were not uncommon in the Sengoku period, they have rarely been portrayed so explicitly in samurai cinema. One obvious exception is Oshima Nagisa’s Taboo (1999), where Matsuda Ryuhei plays the dangerously alluring Kano Sozaburo, whose presence destabilises the hyper-masculine Shinsengumi militia. Yet while both films touch on similar themes, their tones couldn’t be more different. — Taboo is subtle and serious, whereas Kubi is direct, provocative, and laced with Kitano’s characteristic absurd humour.

Kitano also continues to demonstrate his unique gift for casting. Some choices are surprising — Nishijima Hidetoshi as Akechi Mitsuhide, for instance, delivers a restrained yet impactful performance. He is the most samurai-like character in the film. I especially liked Endo Kenichi as Araki Murashige; he brings humanity, humour, and vulnerability. Kitano regulars also return: Kase Ryo is crazy, violent and unpredictable as Oda Nobunaga, while Asano Tadanobu plays a loyal Kuroda Kanbei, serving Kitano’s Hashiba Hideyoshi. It’s also surprising to see Kobayashi Kaoru in a very low-key portrayal of Tokugawa Ieyasu, who will later become shogun.

Kubi is a large-scale, star-studded, and thoroughly entertaining film. Although the script is written in modern language, the costumes and production design fully evoke the Sengoku period. A dynamic soundtrack and striking cinematography further enhance the film’s epic atmosphere.

As a lifelong fan of Kitano’s work, however, I felt it lacked some of his distinctive edgy sharpness. The typical dark humour, while present, doesn’t always land as seamlessly as in earlier films like Sonatine (1993). Still, Kubi carries Kitano’s unmistakable signature — shocking moments, thrilling storytelling, and, above all, a final scene in classic Kitano style, so striking it makes you want to watch the film all over again.