Unveiling the Secrets: How 'Shōgun' Transformed a Literary Masterpiece into Captivating TV

In the frenetic world of streaming, where attention spans rival that of goldfish, the slow-burn development of FX on Hulu/Disney+’s Shōgun feels wonderfully out of sync with the norm. You see, FX first laid eyes on James Clavell's beloved 1975 novel over a decade ago, and since getting the green light in 2018, it’s been a six-year love affair of sorts before it finally graced our screens. Picture it: a project so ambitious that it originally began with our friends at DNA Films across the pond, before Ronan Bennett, who of course emerged from the shadows of Gunpowder, had the bright idea to weave his magic into this epic tale. Alas, as projects often do, he drifted off, handing the baton to the equally enthralling duo—Top Gun: Maverick's Justin Marks and Rachel Kondo.

Set in the sumptuous chaos of feudal Japan in 1600, Shōgun takes us on a captivating journey with Lord Yoshii Toranaga, played by the magnificent Hiroyuki Sanada. He’s in quite the pickle, battling enemies lurking on the Council of Regents, eager to displace him at every turn. Enter John Blackthorne, portrayed by Cosmo Jarvis, an English pilot washed ashore, concealing secrets that might just turn the tide for Toranaga, all while attempting to maneuver through the tangled webs spun by Jesuit priests and Portuguese merchants. Oh, and let’s not forget Toda Mariko, played by the lovely Anna Sawai, who’s caught in a deliciously complicated love triangle of duty, desire, and her own conflicted heart.

Despite its quiet, almost gracefully old-fashioned entry into the scripted series landscape, it hasn’t failed to make a splash. In fact, the debut episode raked in 9 million views worldwide! “I think audiences respond to the very simple idea that the most basic human impulse is to create meaning out of your life,” muses Kondo, co-creator, writer, and executive producer. Spoiler alert: this very human drive to find significance, whether through love or revenge, is the essence of what they penned.

Marks, sharing the creative helm, doubles down on this notion, emphasizing that the universal theme of cultural clashes—oh, how the East and West like to tango—is core to the storytelling. “All of us, from Japanese to American, what we shared was a burning desire to narrate a story of agency,” he adds with a glimmer in his eye. Isn’t it charming when everyone holds hands and sings Kumbaya over differences?

This ambitious duo, Marks and Kondo, make no bones about the Herculean task they embraced in bringing this story to life. One particularly bold choice was making an “English-language” show that predominantly dances in Japanese. By the time we hit the later episodes, even the proud aristocrat Blackthorne has picked up a few lines in the local dialect. “It wasn’t as simple as ‘Sure, give it a whirl.’ Every word was wrangled with serious deliberation,” explains Marks. “We had to tread this fine line with awareness.”

Now, let’s talk turkey: audiences today are far more comfortable with subtitles, which Marks admits was a bit of a gamble. “We knew we could’ve face-planted in the ratings, but that’s showbiz, sweetheart,” he quips. “If you want success, bring on the surprises because the tried-and-true will only earn you a one-way ticket to snooze-ville.”

There’s an undeniable charm in how Shōgun departs from the noise of modern television—though action-packed, it elegantly prioritizes the buildup of tension, a careful contemplation of the subtle art of conflict. It’s a show that takes its time, letting the conversations between worlds and people manifest drama without resorting to cliched battle scenes. Kondo, blissfully unaware of the industry's preconceived notions about streaming series, describes their delightful ‘naiveté’ as a gift, allowing them to focus on the story at hand. “We were just trying to spin a good yarn!” she admits, almost sheepishly. Blessed ignorance indeed!

Marks chimes in, highlighting how a decade of flashy pyrotechnics has obscured the simple desire for compelling narratives. “It’s not that I begrudge the glitzy commercial hits—I'm merely calling for a return to storytelling,” he declares emphatically. Their anchor? Clavell’s source work, rich with breathtaking characters, whose arcs bewitch and repulse us in equal measure.

Kondo thoughtfully