Aragami

Aragami is a small but bold film from Ryuhei Kitamura, made as part of the “Duel Project.” Two directors were challenged to shoot a feature in one week, using only two actors and one location. Kitamura turned this strict setup into something special. A strange, stylish samurai duel that feels like a mix of myth, philosophy, and pure action.

The story begins with two wounded samurai who stumble into a temple on a stormy night. One wakes up healed, his companion dead, and finds himself face to face with a mysterious man and a quiet woman. The man reveals himself as Aragami, the god of battle. He’s tired of immortality and desperate to find someone strong enough to kill him. From there, the movie becomes a tense, slow-burning conversation that leads to a final fight for life and death.

The plot is simple, but the film builds its mood carefully. The first half is mostly quiet talk, strange hints, and a feeling that something powerful is hiding beneath the surface. The camera work keeps the single temple setting alive, using strong colors and sharp movement. By the time the swords are drawn, the tension has already reached its peak. The fight scenes are short but full of style, with Kitamura’s trademark mix of traditional swordplay and cinematic flair.

Takao Osawa and Masaya Kato carry the whole movie on their shoulders. Their dialogue feels like a duel in itself, part challenge, part respect. They make their long exchanges interesting even before the action begins. When the fight finally comes, it feels earned. The small cameo by Tak Sakaguchi adds a fun link to Kitamura’s other film, Versus.

There are moments when Aragami feels padded or unclear. Some shots linger too long, and parts of the story don’t fully make sense. But even with these loose threads, the film has a rhythm that draws you in. It’s less about explaining everything and more about exploring the idea of endless conflict. The need to fight, to win, or to finally rest.

For me, Aragami works because it does so much with so little. It’s a film about two warriors trapped by their own purpose, told with energy and focus. Despite its limits, it feels epic. Kitamura turns a one-room duel into something that feels timeless, where violence becomes almost spiritual. It leaves a strong impression long after the swords stop clashing.