A tragicomic picaresque of ritualized abject poverty, following the decrepit path of the “Toseinin”: wandering beggar-swordsmen for whom their strange Yakuza code is the only constant and purpose. The plot of The Wanderers seems purposefully aimless, focused on the absurd rites and rules that govern their lowly existence as much as on a gradual saga of grim underclass struggle, cruel ironies, and abrupt pathetic fates. It’s a movie where a lot happens but also not much happens, where tetanus is deadlier than any katana, where bloody clumsy brawls with gambler gangs break out then are forgotten as our young misfit trio trudges to the next house that will accept them.
I love a story that puts a spotlight on the fringes of a typical genre narrative, and The Wanderers feels like a film about some ragged extras that Zatoichi might’ve passed on his way to another adventure.