Many cultures have folk heroes; archetypes from their cultural history that are continuously revisited in popular culture and entertainment.  But while cultures may seem to be vastly different, these archetypes can often be found spanning cultural gaps.  For instance, samurai epics are a popular genre in Japanese film which have been reinterpreted for a Western audience.  Akira Kurosawa’s masterpiece The Seven Samurai was reset in the Old American West and re-released in 1960 as The Magnificent Seven.  Kurosawa’s Yojimbo was also reinterpreted as a Western, and was remade into A Fistful of Dollars.  This is not merely a coincidence; there is a fundamental link between the archetypes of the samurai and the cowboy, or gunslinger.  If one looks at original Westerns, one can find definite examples of samurai beliefs and ethics.  Clint Eastwood’s 1992 film Unforgiven is an excellent example of this.  The film’s treatment of caste structures, personal arms, order and violence, and honor all reflect the samurai tradition.

Although it is set in the supposedly egalitarian society of the American West, Unforgiven makes use of a caste structure reminiscent of feudal Japan.  At the top are the samurai, professional soldiers, men similar to the film’s sheriff, Little Bill (Turnbull 89).  Little Bill, and others like him, represent a, “patriarchal order, which reacts aggressively to challenge” (Grist 297).  Below the samurai, the gunslingers, is everyone else.  If you’re not a warrior, you’re nobody.  This feeling is expressed by Eastwood’s character, William Munny, when he states, almost regretfully, that he is, “just a fella now,” and no longer a killer.  The sentiment is clear: by giving up the warrior’s life, he has become something ordinary, something no longer special.  This idea of caste is further reinforced by the film’s treatment of the whores.  After two cowboys, Quick Mike and Davey, cut up a whore, Delilah, Little Bill refuses to kill them because “it ain’t like they was tramps or loafers or bad men…they were just hard-working boys that was foolish.”  As part of the dominant class, they receive special treatment (Grist 295).  They have complete power over the commoners beneath them, much like the samurai had over peasants or merchants (Turnbull 130).  Driving home the whores’ lack of status is the assertion that they represent an “investment of capital,” and are thus little more than property (Grist 294). Since the majority of characters in the film are either gunslingers or whores, the notion of a solid caste system is strongly suggested by the film.

Not only does Unforgiven portray a caste system, it shows a society where one’s social role cannot be altered, no matter how hard one tries.  During the close of Japan’s sengoku jidai period, a similar situation existed.  People who had been both, “samurai and farmer were now forced to choose between them” (Turnbull 89).  Munny is just one such person; at the start of the film, he has given up his fighting ways at the request of his deceased wife and has turned to a life of farming.  However, he cannot escape his destiny.  His reputation is such that he is sought out by the Kid for help with an assassination, and Munny’s repeated insistence that he has changed becomes a hollow mantra, devoid of meaning.  Indeed, his protestations mask a barely concealed, “desire to return to his past life” (Grist 298).  Munny was born a warrior, and he must remain one.  The same is true of Little Bill, who is building a house so he can settle down.  Bill, however, is also a fighter, and is simple not suited to build things.  He is, “the worst damned carpenter,” and there is not “a straight angle,” in his house.  The lack of straight angles suggest there is something inherently twisted and wrong about him trying to settle down (Grist 296).  Like Munny, he is doomed to his warrior caste.

As a warrior class, the samurai naturally were closely associated with their weapons, specifically the sword.  The sword was a badge of office, and the, “characteristic two swords were the samurai’s alone” (Turnbull 143).  Likewise, in Unforgiven, the gun is the symbol of a warrior, a gunslinger.  In accordance with a caste system that sees gunslingers as the ultimate men, the film links guns with manhood.  This is in keeping with the belief that, “the sword is the soul of the samurai” (Turnbull 138).  Guns are so important that a man’s weapon often becomes equivalent to the man himself.  The Schofield Kid is an excellent example of this, as he is named after his, “Schofield model…pistol.”  Becoming a master of one’s weapons is a road to respect, while disgracing them earns scorn.  Indeed, Little Bill remarks that there is nothing worse than a man, “carrying two pistols and a Henry rifle and crying like a damn baby.”  Guns are therefore a crucial part of manhood. 

The film often portrays this connection between guns and manhood in a symbolic way, equating manhood with sexuality, and thus making a, “link between the phallus and firearms” (Grist 298)  The most overt example of this is the character of Two-Gun Corcoran, so called because his member was longer than the barrel of his pistol.  Here the film has literally equated the gun with the phallus, but it does so symbolically as well (Grist 298).  Quick Mike is portrayed as a cowardly and dishonorable character, and his name suggests, “a comment on his sexual prowess” (Grist 298).  In fact, he initially attacks Delilah because she laughed at him for having, “a teensy little pecker.”  In the film’s symbolic world, his small phallus suggests a lack of manly spirit, and he is a poor warrior due to it.  Similarly, Little Bill is shown as being unnecessarily cruel and sadistic, relying on mass numbers and tricks to win fights.  Since the actor portraying him, Gene Hackman, is not a small man, “one might…wonder why he’s called ‘Little’” (Grist 298).  Again, the phallus, equivalent to the sword or gun, is directly linked t manhood and fighting ability.  Seen in this light, it is significant that Little Bill always disarms his enemies before beating them, an act which becomes equivalent to castration, to stripping a man of his warrior status and manhood (Grist 298).  After all, a samurai who loses his sword, “will not be excused” (Turnbull 138).  In the end, Little Bill is defeated by Munny, a man who has been celibate since the death of his wife and who, “doesn’t miss it much.”  By mastering his sexual desires, Munny has mastered his gun, both literally and figuratively, and thus become a fearsome warrior.

Skill with a gun is important in the film’s world, as it is a world filled with violence and death.  Indeed, “underlying violence is the prime narrative motif” (Grist 296).  Success in the film’s world comes with accepting this fact, a fact that echoes the Hagakure’s statement that, “the Way of the Samurai is found in death” (Tsunetomo 17).  Munny is the best example of this fact.  Munny is the supreme warrior, one of the few characters to survive the film, a man who displays, “a calm readiness to kill” (Grist 299).  Munny’s transformation from farmer back to warrior is marked by his willingness to live in death; he assumes the name of Hendershot, a man he killed years ago, and he claims to have seen, “the Angel of Death.”  He is a man with, “no weak nerve nor fear,” and this fact garners him enormous respect.  In the words of the Kid, he is a, “rootin’-tootin’ son-of-a-bitchin’ cold-blooded assassin.” 

The respect that comes with being a warrior is rooted in the film’s plot.  The film, “links violence…to masculinity” (Grist 297).  Munny’s warrior prowess grants him an “unanswerable authority,” (Grist 300) that the Schofield Kid can only hope to aspire to.  The Kid is a, “young man obsessed with his violent masculine identity” (Grist 301).  He simplistically equates killing with being a warrior, a real man, and he frequently boasts about his imaginary victories.  Speaking about he killing of some deputies, he hollowly boasts that he, “coulda…easy.”  However, all of his fascination, “with violence…suggests an attempt to deny his weakness” (Grist 301).  Other characters identified as weak warriors are also obsessed with the superficiality of violence.  When he is first introduced English Bob, “tries unsuccessfully to goad his fellow passenger into going for his gun so he can shoot him” (Grist 296).  However, neither English Bob nor the Kid can compare to Munny’s skill as a warrior.  He is comparable to Miyamoto Musashi confronting the Yoshioka school; both are familiar with violence, but Munny/Musashi has accepted death and transcended it to become a truly great warrior (Yoshikawa 525). 

Like in feudal Japan, social order in Unforgiven encompasses and is founded on the prevalence of violence.  The film is set shortly after the assassination of President Garfield, “a disruption to the natural order” (Grist 296).  With the nation’s central government in turmoil, the film’s setting is similar to the instability found during Japan’s sengoku jidai (Turnbull 74).  Seen is this light, Little Bill is almost a sengoku daimyo, a supreme authority whose power rests on sheer military force (Turnbull 74).  Little Bill is the sole authority in the town of Big Whiskey, a man who can order hangings and act as both judge and jury.  If he wishes he can, “just as soon not have a trail,” and deal out immediate justice.  This power is backed up by a well-armed group of deputies who posses the only weapons in town, and are thus equivalent o a group of samurai retainers.  Little Bill enforces his judgments with violence, and his, “violent repression of otherness is motivated less by moral principle than by…pragmatic impulse” (Grist 296).  His municipal power bloc is like an urban machi, pitted against the ikki made up of Munny, the Kid, and Ned (Turnbull 72).  Unforgiven winds violence and order together, portraying the law, “asserting itself, but violence barely contained” (Grist 295).

Reinforcing this social order is a code of honor similar to the samurai’s bushido (Turnbull 138).  Like a samurai, a gunslinger is bound to a code of personal honor that lends meaning to his violent ways.  In Unforgiven, the most important facet of honor is revenge.  Indeed, the entire plot is built around revenge for Delilah’s mutilation.  Again, this reflects samurai culture, a culture in which a person, “was brought to shame because he did not take revenge” (Tsunetomo 29).  Revenge is seen as a perfectly justifiable excuse for homicide.  The Kid defends his ambush of Quick Mike by saying, “he had it coming for what he done.”  Likewise, after Davey is killed he says that he, “shouldn’t have cut up no whores.”  Accompanying this concept of revenge is the belief that certain actions deserve punishment.  As Ned puts it, “if they done somethin’ wrong I could see shootin’ ‘em.”  This sentiment is also seen in the Tokugawa penal code, whish stated that, “lawbreakers must not be hidden” (Turnbull 120).  The film’s characters also display strong beliefs regarding proper and honorable conduct.  For instance, although Davey did not actually participate in cutting Delilah, he assumes responsibility for the attack and brings extra reparations for her in the form of a pony, a pony that represents a significant portion of his wealth (Grist 301).  For Davey, doing the right thing is more important than material possessions.  Samurai, too, were advised to shun material objects and live a frugal life (Turnbull 120).  Munny also displays a personal code of values, condemning prostitution by saying, “that ain’t right, buying flesh.”  He also shows respect for his defeated enemies, insisting that the mortally wounded Davey be given water.

This code of honor is crucial to the continuing mythopeia of both the gunslinger and the samurai (Grist 294).  They are fierce warriors, but principled.  Cowboys and samurai are icons of the “romanticized vision” (Grist 297) of history.  Unforgiven is oddly self-aware of this fact; the character W.W. Beauchamp is the “biographer as dime-novelist” (Grist 297), and his naïve observations are reminders that that our cultural archetypes are often at odds with the reality from which they came.  This is true both of Westerns and samurai epics.  Indeed, many Japanese, “prefer to see themselves as fiercely individualistic, high-principled…modern-day Musashis,” (Reischauer xii) just as many American’s like to think of themselves as cowboys.  And yet the two ideals are not far apart.  As Unforgiven shows, the cowboy mystique is closely related to the samurai ethic.