J Paul Johnson
John Maclean’s excellent period drama Tornado is a smart mix of Western, Samurai, and coming-of-age genres. It’s full of surprises and insights, deft characterizations, and, especially in its final act, no small amount of bloodshed. Were it not for its violence, it might almost—almost—register as family-friendly fare, but even while centering a young female protagonist, the titular Tornado, at the core of its narrative, Maclean’s second feature is mature, thought-provoking work, visually stunning and intellectually engaging.
Starring Tim Roth and Jack Lowden as dangerous father-son gangleaders and Takehiro Hira and newcomer Kōki as a father and daughter as traveling puppeteers, Tornado is set in 1790s Britain, a rugged landscape not unlike the American frontier of the 1800s, where the gun is soon to replace the sword. Roth plays the heavy, named Sugarman, leadlng a gang of ruthless criminals who’ve just made a kill and earned two heavy bags of gold for their spoils; among them is his son, Little Sugar (Lowden), whose ambitions and intellect set him apart from the rest of Sugarman’s mercenary thugs.
Tornado begins in medias res, with Sugarman’s gang in hot pursuit of a young Japanese girl—we’ll learn soon her name is “Tornado” (Kōki)—and an even younger boy (Nathan Malone). Taking temporary refuge in a large house, Tornado uses her wits and guile to keep one very precarious step ahead of her pursuers. Maclean’s direction here is excellent: unrushed but suspenseful, delivering key character traits and necessary exposition subtly yet all the while investing the audience in his protagonist’s survival.
As the opening act unfolds, the narrative’s precipitating event has already taken place. A short time ago, Sugarman’s crew stopped to watch a traveling troupe entertain. Among the performers—a knife thrower, strongman, seer, and magician—are puppeteers Tornado and her father Fujin, the troupe’s leader. Then and there, as the gang members stand transfixed by their mesmerizing (and surprisingly bloody) Samurai puppet show, the boy makes off with the loot, enlisting Tornado in the heist, and endangering all their lives. The film’s second act essentially retraces the events that led to the first act’s pursuit and increases the stakes in several ways, in particular establishing Tornado’s contentious-but-loving relationship with her father.
The film’s third act takes place in the narrative present, following the heist and pursuit, and leaves Tornado all alone to confront Sugarman’s merciless marauders. What chance could a slim, slight girl have, armed only with her wits and a sword, against her pursuers? She’s outnumbered and outgunned but not necessarily outmaneuvered, and Tornado is something of a force of nature: her bloody, violent rite of passage feels a little not unlike a samurai superhero origin story.
Maclean’s script and direction are full of small, sly delights. Sugarman’s crew are a motley group but cunning and (literally) cutthroat. They’ll stop at nothing, and certainly not a young girl, to recover their loot. Fujin’s troupe of performers are equally skilled in their own way, if no match for Sugarman’s ruthlessness. The film’s re-creation of 1790s Britain is handled superbly, much in the vein of an American neo-Western, but one where British, Japanese, and other cultures unexpectedly clash. And born of those clashes is the young girl—who becomes a woman—named Tornado.
In that last sense, Tornado is also a coming-of-age story, and a splendid one at that. At a time when her familial Samurai values are fading away, and in a cutthroat, violent new culture, Tornado must adapt and survive. Her portrayer, Kōki, delivers throughout as she matures from pursued to avenger, from girl to woman, from puppeteer to Samurai. And while Tornado is not without violence and no small amount of blood, Maclean’s direction is largely naturalistic, avoiding the temptations of chopsocky sound effects or Tarantinoesque antics. Tornado is a serious film, and a good one.
While the narrative is Tornado’s and the breakout performance Kōki’s, all of the cast’s performances are convincing. Roth, of course—one expects no less—is excellent as the unscrupulous and savvy Sugarman. His evil is not cartoonish; it’s simply pragmatic. But it’s highly effective, and he has a skilled set of arrow-slingers and sharpshooters at his side. Lowden, as Little Sugar, poses another threat with his willingness to betray the group. Hira, as Tornado’s father, Fujin, has less screen time, but his character is essential to Tornado’s training and maturity. The casting throughout is excellent.
It’s been a full ten years now since Maclean’s first full feature, the revisionist Slow West starring Michael Fassbender, won the World Cinema Grand Jury award at Sundance. It may have divided audiences, frustrating some and enthralling others, but it heralded a promising talent. (Maclean, a Scot, came to film from musicmaking, starting his career making zero-budget videos to promote his bands.) Tornado, following a full decade later, may disappoint those anticipating something grander in scope; however, for what it is—a smart, sly historical drama deftly mixing Samurai, Western, and coming-of-age genres—Maclean’s second film delivers the goods.
