The longstanding romance between westerns and samurai films has yielded some of cinema’s most iconic hybrids from The Magnificent Seven to A Fistful of Dollars. Tornado (2025), the second feature from Scottish director John Maclean, joins this lineage with quiet confidence and striking visual precision. Known for Slow West (2015), Maclean once again proves his deep understanding of the western form, only this time, with the philosophical touch of the Japanese jidaigeki.

Set not in the American frontier but in 1790s Scotland, Tornado follows a young Japanese woman (played by Kôki) on the run from a gang of ruthless mercenaries. At the center of this pursuit is Sugarman (Tim Roth), a cold-blooded leader whose presence looms over the film like a storm cloud. The plot is minimalistic: a game of cat and mouse stretched across harsh landscapes and measured silences. But beneath its simple premise lies a taut dance between predator and prey, elevated by dark humor, narrative restraint, and a nonlinear structure that adds texture without sacrificing clarity.

What makes Tornado truly resonate is its unwavering commitment to visual storytelling. Dialogue is sparse, and Maclean leans heavily on atmosphere, performance, and cinematography to carry the weight of the story. Tim Roth inhabits the role of the villain with menacing charm, while Kôki delivers a striking turn as a reluctant anti-heroine. Their dynamic builds gradually toward a climactic showdown — inevitable, brutal, and poetic.

Visually, the film is a triumph. The windswept Scottish landscapes serve as both setting and metaphor, and the score underscores the tension without overwhelming it. While the pacing may test the patience of some viewers, particularly those unfamiliar with the conventions of the genre, Tornado rewards close attention. It’s a film built on restraint, where every frame feels intentional and loaded with subtext.

In many ways, Tornado feels like a love letter — not only to the spaghetti westerns of Sergio Leone but also to the stoic warriors of Kurosawa. You can hear echoes of both directors in the film’s DNA: in the tight close-ups, the moral ambiguity, the emphasis on gesture over dialogue. It’s a film that meditates more than it moves, but when it moves, it strikes like lightning.

For genre aficionados, Tornado is a rare treat: an elegant, stripped-down western infused with the soul of a samurai epic. For everyone else, it may be a slow storm to weather — but one worth getting caught in.