Q&A

GN: Lone Samurai has been described as “Samurai meets Cannibals,” yet beneath its visceral premise lies something more meditative. What philosophical or moral questions did this story allow you to explore, and what personally drew you to inhabit its world?

S: “The way of the samurai is found in death.” This famous phrase from Hagakure perfectly embodies the spirit of this film. Coincidentally, the film was shot right before the birth of my first child, a period when I was deeply moved by the miracle of life and the very meaning of existence. Through the protagonist Riku’s journey, it became, in many ways, a personal reflection on my own life’s path. In Japan, there is a word called kokō (孤高). It describes someone who stands alone with dignity and pride, and it has long been a personal motto of mine. From the moment I first read the script, I could immediately relate to what Riku was feeling. I even remember telling Josh, our director, about this word kokō.

GN: The film’s first act, “The Calm,” unfolds with restraint before descending into chaos. How did you navigate that transformation within your character, and what does this shift reveal about the human condition under extremity?

S: The story begins with a man who lost his beloved family and, seeking a place to die, ends up surviving alone on a deserted island. But when he becomes the target of cannibals, something shifts, he ironically begins to feel truly alive again. The script captured that transformation so well, all I had to do was to express it truthfully. Through portraying that journey, I felt that when pushed to the edge, a person’s purest instincts emerge, that even when facing death, the will to live burns the brightest.

GN: You filmed Lone Samurai in remote and demanding locations. In what ways did the landscape itself influence your performance and the emotional architecture of the film?

S: Shooting in such remote and harsh landscapes had a profound impact on my performance. The isolation, the silence, the raw power of nature, it all became part of Riku’s inner world. Because he is a character who also appreciates haiku, his connection with nature was essential. We Okinawan people believe in animism and live in deep harmony with nature. While filming, I felt as though the vast wilderness of Indonesia was quietly watching over me.

GN: Working with Yayan Ruhian and the team behind The Raid brought a distinct physical vocabulary to the project. How did that collaboration reshape your understanding of movement, not only as combat, but as an expression of psychology and spirit?

S: The director encouraged me to move away from the traditional image of samurai combat, so while preserving the spirit of sword action, I embraced the distinctive choreography created by the Uwais team. When I first read the script, I thought it was simply about surviving against the enemies. But through rehearsals, I came to realize it was more than that, a way of communicating beyond words. Perhaps because we had gone through such intense training together, but during the fight scene with Yayan, I even felt a deep sense of respect and gratitude toward him.

GN: In Gensan Punch, under the direction of Brillante Mendoza, you embodied Naoki Tsuyama, a boxer who challenges conventional notions of strength. What did that role teach you about vulnerability, perseverance, and dignity?

S: No matter how many hardships you face, if you keep trying without giving up, a new path will eventually open, even when your original dream doesn’t come true. Gensan Punch was my first film as a producer, and its completion came through overcoming countless challenges. In that sense, I felt a deep resonance with Naoki. It taught me that true strength lies not in victory, but in the quiet courage to stand up again after every fall.

GN: You’ve acted across Japan, the Philippines, Indonesia, and the United States. What have you observed about how each culture conceives of storytelling, discipline, and truth in performance?

S: I have worked across several cultures, performing in each country's language. At the end of the day, however, human life is universal, and the actor’s task remains the same. Each character brings different struggles and backgrounds, so my job is to dig deeply and live truthfully as that person.

GN: Across these diverse filmmaking traditions, where do you find your artistic home? Does creativity emerge more naturally from cultural familiarity or from the tension of unfamiliar ground?

S: Creating is a joy for me in any environment. What matters most is that the team trusts and respects each other, and that everyone is fully committed to making a masterpiece. Of course, I enjoy filmmaking in Japan, but for experimenting and expressing myself more freely, I’ve increasingly chosen projects overseas in recent years.

GN: Your studies in New York exposed you to a Western approach to acting rooted in psychological realism. How did this encounter shape or contrast with the Japanese sensibility you grew up with, and how do the two coexist in your craft today?

S: The realism I studied in New York, based on the Stanislavski method, approaches from the inside out. In contrast, traditionally in Japan, the approach often begins from the outside, as in Kabuki and Noh. The film’s first half is an inner journey, while the second half takes the audience through intense action. I tried my best to convey this distinctive combination and hope it comes across well.

GN: Having premiered three films at the Hawaii International Film Festival, do you see a through line among them, an emotional or thematic resonance that connects your body of work at this moment in your career?

S: If I were to find a resonance among these three films, it would be survival under extreme conditions and the rebellion of the oppressed against the authorities.

GN: As cinema becomes increasingly borderless, how do you situate yourself within this global landscape? Are there directors, genres, or philosophies that you aspire to explore in your next chapter?

S: I have participated in projects across various countries, and regardless of location, genre, or budget, I hope to continue taking part in experimental and challenging films. I also aim to contribute to co-productions in Japan, helping to create more opportunities for collaborative filmmaking.

GN: From Okinawa to New York and across Asia’s cinematic frontiers, your path has been both geographical and spiritual. Looking back, how do you define evolution for yourself as an artist?

S: The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know. I still find myself reflecting and regretting things each time, so I’m never quite sure whether I’m evolving or regressing as an artist. Yet, It is a true privilege to devote my life to film and travel, two passions I’ve cherished since childhood.

GN: What does the term 'Goodnight' mean to you? 

S: A sense of gratitude for ending the day in peace.