Sometimes sequels expand the world, deepen the story, and raise the stakes. Other times they’re just the cinematic equivalent of trying to microwave yesterday’s ramen in a cracked bowl—messy, confusing, and guaranteed to leave you questioning your life choices. Tokyo: The Last War falls firmly into the latter category. Billed as an epic tokusatsu historical dark fantasy, what you really get is a $2 million cosplay fever dream with a body count, a psychic Hitler takedown, and an oni who looks like he wandered in from a different franchise entirely.
From Megalopolis to Mediocrity
The first film, Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis, was a strange, sprawling adaptation of four novels, packed with lore and supernatural weirdness. People loved it, or at least were hypnotized into thinking they did. Naturally, Toho thought, “Let’s cash in with a sequel!” Only this time they handed the wheel to Takashige Ichise—a first-time director who would later say, “I never want to direct again.” That’s not just a confession; it’s a prophecy. Watching this film, you feel it too.
The budget was halved, the story was shrunk to a single book, and the director decided to strip away the complex mysticism in favor of “action.” Unfortunately, that’s like promising a gourmet meal and then serving Cup Noodles without the seasoning packet.
Kato: Oni, Over It
Kyūsaku Shimada returns as Yasunori Kato, an immortal oni who just won’t die, no matter how many times history books, novels, or annoyed viewers try to get rid of him. In this installment, Kato is resurrected not by myth or logic, but by the collective trauma of Tokyo’s firebombing victims. Imagine the spirits of war casualties saying, “We could rest in peace, but nah, let’s bring back that oni guy.”
Kato’s big plan? Sabotage a Buddhist shaman’s scheme to psychically assassinate Allied leaders, because he wants Tokyo to burn again. This isn’t villainy, it’s pyromaniac déjà vu. By now, Kato feels less like a mythic force of chaos and more like the drunk uncle who keeps setting off fireworks indoors every year despite everyone begging him to stop.
Psychic Warfare: The Discount Version
The good guys are led by Kan’nami Kouou (Tetsuro Tamba), a Buddhist shaman who looks like he’s one sake cup away from retirement. He plans to kill Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin with magic, because apparently bullets and bombs just weren’t cutting it in WWII. Opposing him is Kato, who stomps around like a kaiju without the rubber suit.
The only hope is a psychic pretty boy, Yuko Nakamura (Masaya Kato), who spends most of the film failing to defeat Kato until he suddenly doesn’t. He gets an assist from Yukiko Tatsumiya (Kaho Minami), a nurse with trauma who exists mainly to cry, pray, and function as a plot battery pack. Their love story is less “tragic romance” and more “two people trauma-bonding while a demon throws tantrums around Tokyo.”
The Hitler Problem
Now here’s where things go from silly to historically awkward. In the original novel, Roosevelt was cursed to death, paving the way for Truman to nuke Japan. In the movie, though, someone thought it’d be a great idea to pivot: instead of FDR, Kouou psychically attacks Adolf Hitler. The result? Hitler blows his brains out in the bunker.
So yes, this movie literally rewrites WWII so that Japan’s Buddhist psychics are responsible for Hitler’s suicide. I wish I were making that up. The only thing missing is a post-credits scene of Stalin shrugging to the camera like he’s in a sitcom.
Action, But With All the Thrill of Wet Cardboard
Ichise promised more action, but what he delivered feels like kabuki theater after a few too many sedatives. Fights between Nakamura and Kato are filmed like schoolyard shoving matches in slow motion. Explosions look like rejected Godzilla outtakes. And the open set in Nagasaki, built to be larger and grander than the first film, ends up being little more than a stage where costumed extras wander around looking confused about their marks.
Even the special effects, handled by Screaming Mad George’s team, are underwhelming. Sure, there’s gore, but it’s the cheap kind—like someone spilled jam on the lens and called it a day. The oni resurrection scene should’ve been terrifying; instead it looks like a Halloween haunted house at the local mall.
Characters: All the Depth of Puddles
-
Nakamura: A psychic protagonist so bland you’ll forget his name halfway through.
-
Yukiko: A tragic nurse who might as well be wearing a sash reading “Love Interest / Emotional Catalyst.”
-
Kouou: A shaman who flip-flops from “curse the Allies” to “curse Hitler” like he’s picking entrees off a menu.
-
Kato: Still chewing scenery, still scowling, still making you wish someone would just hire Godzilla to step on him.
The Final Battle: Psychic Shrug-Off
Nakamura, juiced up by Yukiko’s prayers and possibly steroids, manages to obliterate Kato’s body in the finale. But because this is Teito Monogatari, Kato’s spirit is sealed instead of destroyed. Yukiko prays, Nakamura dies nobly, and the film limps toward a conclusion with the energy of a hungover history professor. The last shot is Masakado’s grave, standing stoically as if to say, “You sat through two hours of this nonsense? Bless your patience.”
Differences From the Novel: AKA Missed Opportunities
The book’s political conspiracy, freemasonry lodges, and Roosevelt’s death spiral? Gone. The eerie tension of mysticism colliding with history? Traded for fistfights and psychic beams. The complexity? Streamlined into nonsense. This is like adapting War and Peace but deciding the story would work better as Rocky IV.
Dark Humor in the Ruins
If you want to laugh, though, there’s plenty to mock:
-
The idea that Tokyo’s fate rests on a guy who spends most of the film getting his psychic butt kicked.
-
The villain being powered by ghosts who apparently had nothing better to do.
-
Hitler getting taken out by Japanese wizardry, like a rejected Doctor Strange subplot.
-
The film being pitched as “more action” and ending up with less excitement than a PTA meeting.
Final Thoughts: Tokyo Drifted Too Far
Tokyo: The Last War is the cinematic embodiment of trying too hard with too little. It had a chance to expand on the eerie grandeur of The Last Megalopolis, but instead it delivered a muddled, low-budget action-horror that feels like a straight-to-video sequel.
It’s not scary, it’s not thrilling, and its rewriting of history borders on unintentional comedy. The only true horror here is the runtime.
