Legends of the Poisonous Seductress: Vol Three: Okatsu the Fugitive (1969)

The third and final Poisonous Seductress film once again stars Junko Miyazono. She's also again called Okatsu, but with a different upbringing than the one in Quick-draw (1969). It's as if there's some kind of weird unspoken alternative reality thing going on. However, there's nothing to support such a ridiculous theory in any of the films... so, er, I'll get my coat.
Vol Three's Okatsu is at a transitional period of her life – more than even she knows. It gives rise to ample opportunities for swordplay that's brutal and merciless. Junko is slightly better with the weapon the third time out, but still not as good as a secondary character that, like Wakayama did previously, raises the bar. They're some of the most impressive moments in a film that just doesn't work as well as it should in other areas.

3 work ethics out of 5

Legends of the Poisonous Seductress: Vol Two: Quick-draw Okatsu (1969)

Okatsu is played by the same actress (Junko Miyazono) that played the lead role in Female Demon Ohyaku (1968), and they even share some backstory, but there are differences that make it unclear if we're supposed to connect them in any kind of more meaningful way.
Vol Two is more cinematic and better edited than its predecessor. There's also more swordplay, so it's a lot bloodier.
Tomisaburo Wakayama gets an opportunity to show his skills. Could he do that stuff in real life? He sure seems like he could.
There's a watchful moment at a brothel that reminds very much of Rear Window (1954).  From the other perspective, Okatsu is a clear influence on the Lady Snowblood (1973) film that followed a few years later.

4 ugly truths out of 5

Legends of the Poisonous Seductress: Vol One: Female Demon Ohyaku (1968)

The first Poisonous Seductress film is the only one of the trilogy to be shot in black and white. It begins as tragedy and continues on the same path. It's the story of Ohyaku, a strong female that may be beaten physically but is never beaten emotionally or spiritually.
It's often cited as being one of the first ever Pinky Violence films, and while it's clear to see why that is, it's not as gratuitous or as purposefully titillating as most subsequent exploitation was. Each violent act is earned by the recipient's own evil deeds. Even so, Ohyaku's final, sadistic moment of revenge is shocking stuff, especially for 1968.

3½ dangerous bridges out of 5

Samurai Wolf (1966)

Kiba Ôkaminosuke is a fascinating character. A scruffy appearance belies a man of selective morals and beard pride. He’ll chance a free meal but won’t take advantage too much. He’s kind of like a younger, less cynical Yojimbo in a Sergio Leone style Spaghetti Western not set in the west.
A Blind woman in a remote relay post in which Kiba finds himself quickly gets the measure of him and through her so too do we.
Gosha’s direction is furious. He moves quickly from scene to scene, man to man, with an explosive style. He'll occasionally cut off the sound completely. During a fight you might not hear the swords connect, but you’ll hear the splatter of lifeblood as it paints the tatami.

4 cries for wolf out of 5