Miss Shōgun? Here’s What to Watch Next.

For those not quite ready to leave the world of the series behind.

Offering ten episodes of political machinations, clashing cultures, intense battles, and heartbreak, FX’s Shōgun has been a fully satisfying TV event. But now that it’s over, what should fans who are not quite ready to leave its world do? It’s the sort of series that inspires those who loved it to seek out more, be it projects featuring its cast and creators or films and series set in similar worlds. Fortunately, there’s plenty of both for those who want to keep going now that the miniseries has reached its bittersweet conclusion. Here are some recommendations of what to watch next in two batches, the first dedicated to those involved in making the miniseries and the second to stories set within a hundred years on either side of 1600, the year in which Shōgun takes place, a turning point that united the country under a single ruler after a long period of internecine fighting.

The People

Anna Sawai (Mariko): Pachinko

Although it’s only in the past few years that Anna Sawai has become semi-inescapable in movies and television in the English-speaking world, she’s been working as a professional actress and singer for most of her life. Her turn as a yakuza boss’s daughter in the 2019 series Giri/Haji helped bring her to a wider audience and led to the current abundance of work she now enjoys. In addition to playing Mariko in Shōgun, Sawai can be seen in two current Apple TV+ series: the kaiju-filled MonsterVerse offshoot Monarch: Legacy of Monsters (in which she plays the daughter of a character portrayed by Takehiro Hira, Shōgun’s Ishido) and Pachinko. Though quite different, both are worth your time, though Pachinko should hold special appeal to Shōgun fans. An adaptation of Min Jin Lee’s 2017 novel, it depicts a different sort of culture clash via the 20th-century-spanning story of a Korean family living first under Japanese rule then carving out a life for themselves in Japan. Sawai portrays Naomi, a Japanese co-worker of one member of the family in the sequences set in the 1980s. (Available on Apple TV+)

Hiroyuki Sanada (Toranaga) and Tadanobu Asano (Yabushige): Mortal Kombat (2021)

To get the obvious out of the way, Sanada and Asano have appeared in far more distinguished projects than this 2021 adaptation of the popular ultraviolent video game. In fact, both have had long, notable careers filled with a variety of work in film, TV, and the stage: Sanada’s filmography stretches all the way back to the 1960s, when he worked as a child actor, and Asano has been active since the 1990s. The two even worked together three times before Shōgun, starting with the police thriller The City That Never Sleeps: Shinjuki Shark in 1993. But that movie’s not the easiest to find for those who want to see them working together. That leaves the 2013 film 47 Ronin (the least-respected version of the much-adapted tale), the Johnny Depp–starring biopic Minamata, and Mortal Kombat, in which Sanada plays Scorpion and Asano plays Raiden. The most appealing option, Mortal Kombat is pretty silly, but both the veteran actors seem to be having a good time playing larger-than-life characters (and both return for the already filmed sequel). (Available on Max)

Cosmo Jarvis (Blackthorne): Lady Macbeth

William Oldroyd’s adaptation of the 19th-century Russian novella Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District moved the action to rural England and made Florence Pugh a star. It’s easy to see why. Pugh is magnetic as a young bride trapped in a loveless marriage, but she’s well matched by Jarvis, who plays Sebastian, the farmhand with whom she has an affair. (Are there tragic consequences? Consider the title.) The two stars have a combustible chemistry that feels in some ways like a prelude to Blackthorne and Mariko’s yearning connection. (Available on Starz, Kanopy)

James Clavell (Author): The Fly (1958)

Born in Australia, James Clavell joined the British navy and spent time in a Japanese POW camp during World War II, an experience that left a deep impression on him and influenced Shōgun and the string of related historical novels set in various spots in Asia collectively known as the “Asian Saga.” (Like Shōgun, two of those novels, Tai-Pan and Noble House, received adaptations in the 1980s, but also like the 1980 Shōgun, they are not easily available to stream.) Clavell came to novels by way of movies, for which he worked as a screenwriter and director, most famously helming To Sir, With Love. Less famously, Clavell’s screenplays include the original version of The Fly, in which Vincent Price plays a scientist who undergoes a bizarre transformation after an experiment goes horribly wrong. What does this have to do with Shōgun? Not that much — in the broadest possible terms, both feature characters going through identity crises. But The Fly has become a science-fiction and horror classic in part because of Clavell’s screenplay, which takes the plight of its hero seriously and allows Price to deliver one of his most memorable performances. (Available to rent on Prime Video)

The Place

Ran (1985)

Akira Kurosawa directed many great films set in Japan’s feudal past, including classics like The Seven Samurai, the strange and haunting Macbeth riff Throne of Blood, the Star Wars-inspiring The Hidden Fortress, and the 1980 comeback Kagemusha, any of which are worth watching at any time. But this late-career masterpiece feels especially relevant to Shōgun. Inspired by King Lear, the film stars Tatsuya Nakadai as Ichimonji Hidetora, a warlord who makes the mistake of attempting to divide his kingdom among his three children before his death. Set during the Sengoku (or “Warring States”) period brought to an end by the ascent of Tokugawa Ieyasu (the Shōgun who inspired Toranaga), it depicts history as playing out in sweeping battles spurred by family conflicts, personal grudges, pettiness, and character flaws. The decisions of those in power ripple out into mighty waves that sweep up all those in their path. (Available on Prime Video)

Harakiri (1962)

Still active at 91, Nakadai also starred in this stunning Masaki Kobayashi film in which he plays Tsugumo Hanshirō, a ronin who arrives at the court of a powerful clan and announces his intention to take his life via seppuku (also called harakiri) rather than live as a masterless samurai with few prospects in the peaceful Japan of 1640. Except, it soon becomes clear, that’s not the entire story. Seppuku — a ritual suicide in which a members of the samurai class disembowel themselves, usually with the assistance of a second to complete the job via beheading — is one of the most hard-to-grasp concepts to modern eyes, a death intended to avoid dishonor brought by offenses, capture by enemies, or other violations of the samurai code; Shōgun’s matter-of-fact depiction of its different applications makes it no less shocking. Kobayashi’s film uses the practice as a wedge to pry open the code of honor and draw out the hypocrisies within: Tsugumo is a true man of honor whose bad fortune only underscores how the privileged use rules and ritual to main power, whatever their claim to adhering to unyielding tradition. (Available on Criterion Channel)

Ugetsu (1953)

Kenji Mizoguchi’s Ugetsu casts a similarly skeptical eye at the privileged and the glorification of samurai via the story of a potter named Genjūrō (Masayuki Mori) and his brother-in-law Tōbei (Eitarō Ozawa), who seek their fortune during wartime with terrible consequences for their families. Supernatural elements make the film a ghost story, and its Sengoku Era setting grounds it in the past, but Ugetsu resonates with timeless and universal themes about the follies of ambition and the way war can crush even those who believe themselves able to rise above it. To put it in Shōgun terms, no one can study the wind so well as to never be swept away. (Available on Criterion Channel and Max)

Silence (2016)

Shōgun ends with the future of Europeans in Japan left as an open question. Blackthorne finds his place and Toranaga agrees to let Father Martin build a church, but the near future would turn Japan into a closed nation due to policies enforced during the rule of Tokugawa Iemitsu, the grandson of Tokugawa Ieyasu. Suspected of interfering with Japanese politics, Europeans were essentially expelled in the 1630s, the Christianity they brought to the country banned, and sakoku, the isolationist policy that would stretch well into the 19th century, became the law of the land. This made the religion an underground practice and the country unsafe for any missionaries who dared venture there. Adapting Shūsaku Endō’s 1966 novel was a Martin Scorsese passion project for decades, one he finally realized with this intense, moving film starring Andrew Garfield and Adam Driver as Portuguese priests who travel to Japan in search of a mentor (Liam Neeson) who’s said to have renounced his faith. Though set less than a half-century after Shōgun, Silence conveys how quickly history can change by depicting a different sort of culture clash, one defined by suspicion and persecution rather than attempts to connect. Bonus: Tadanobu Asano plays the role of the interpreter who in many respects holds the missionaries’ fates in his hands. (Available to rent on Prime Video)

Blue Eye Samurai (2023–present)

Set in the same stretch of time as Silence, this animated series follows Mizu (Maya Erskine) on a quest for revenge that doubles as a search for identity. The daughter of a European father and a Japanese mother, Mizu has spent her life as an outcast and decided to hide her sex behind men’s clothes and her eyes behind shaded glasses as she searches for her father with plans for a less-than-tender reunion. It’s a stylish and violent show given heart by fleshed-out characters, strong performances, and layered storytelling. As with Shōgun, its setting is more than mere backdrop, a place shaped by the historical events of that series that, though no longer torn by civil war, could hardly be called peaceful and safe. (Available on Netflix)

Lone Wolf and Cub: Sword of Vengeance (1972)

Blue Eye Samurai owes a debt to countless stories of wandering warriors, among them Lone Wolf and Cub, in which a shōgun’s executioner turned outcast wanders the countryside with his toddler son (and a baby cart rigged with weapons). Beginning as a long-running manga, Lone Wolf and Cub became a six-film series released at a rapid clip between 1972 and 1974, starting with this entry. (A TV series began in 1973 while the films were still being released.) Filled with gushes of blood, these films are not for the faint of heart, but they work as a kind of stylish but grimy ground-level counterpoint to the elevated elegance Shōgun brings to even its most violent moments. (Available on Criterion Channel and Max)