Reviews

Kurasawa spins one heck of a great yarn.

He loves to use contrasts: heat and a dry, gravelly landscapes contrast with a spring of cool, fresh water. Two bumbling, hilariously-sketched peasants contrast with the dignity of a Princess and a General.

I cannot believe how amazingly beautiful and memorable some of the scenes are! Mifune, galloping on horseback after the officials, with his arms raised, and his sword perpendicular to the saddle...his body unmoving, not a budge...and the horse beneath him is galloping, exploding in movement..racing full-tilt....the trees and bush in the background a blur, the horse's movements a blur, but Mifune is like a still shot in the midst of this speed...Kurasawa cuts and pans the scene. And, Mifune, solid, fierce, intent to kill ...that raised sword of vengeance. Wow. Blows me away.

Then, good old Minoru Chiaki, (one of the most lovable character actors in film) when he is so defeated by all the ill-fortune, sleeping on the ground, he wakes up and is crying to his buddy, "Let's be friends forever." I actually laugh out loud.

Characterization in a distilled form: When Mifune laughs as he enters the secret passage in the mountains surrounding the hidden fortress, he is such an heroic figure, he's almost frightening. When he tells of his sister's sacrifice...he is humble, and in pain, but careful not to show it. How can a guy communicate so much?

It's really quite funny when Mifune, after murdering the two horsemen rides directly into the midst of the opposing army's camp! Like...hello! But, then, the verbal exchange between Mifune and his opponent is so surprising and cool. The spear fight is my least favorite fight of all Mifune's battles. But, I love the ending of the fight, where he jumps on his horse and smiles as he leaves.

The film is an absolute pleasure to watch, and worth viewing many times, for the landscapes, variety of scene settings, humor, compassion, and for thrill of it.

Influential on American cinema? Sure, but that's not why this film is so much fun. It's Kurosawa giving us a scene "grand-as-any David Lean production" in the mass uprising of the peasants, it's the contrast of chalky white landscape with lush vegetation and a cool spring, it's the two peasants who entertain, it's Mifune at the top of his game, it's an entertaining story told brilliantly.

It's one of Kurosawa's most neglected masterpieces. "The Lower Depths" takes us into a ravine tenement, run by greedy, brutal landlords, and inhabited by the lowest of society's strata. All action takes place in two locations: the interior of the tenement, or the tenement grounds.

How amazing, then, is the fascination this film exerts on us, with its very modest settings. I am astonished at the creativity of the film shooting these restricted spaces, in so many varied and telling ways: space expands and contracts as is necessary to the story: the outside is either threatening or an escape, but even once outside, we see that there is no escape, and diagonals show us the human dimensions of restricted choice. Space speaks volumes in the film, accompanied by the beauty of the ensemble acting, expressing profound truths.

We find ourselves engaged in the lives of these people, and puzzled over the character of Bokuzen Hidari as the pilgrim. Is he good? If he is good, and pacifies the dispossessed by acknowledging their illusions, does it mean that self-deception is good? What wonderful ensemble acting! The director put them through long, tough rehearsals, and the result is a seamless film. No wrong notes, no overacting, just a beautiful and strange film that haunts us after we've experienced it. Such invisible, great acting, and humor and pathos.

The character of the actor is the finest piece of work by the Kurosawa veteran Kamatari Fujiwara. It is amazing that this actor appears in such diverse roles as Matahichi in "The Hidden Fortress" and as a corrupt executive in "The Bad Sleep Well". What astonishing range and depth! How brilliantly Kurosawa uses the actor's range! And, of course, we have our beloved Toshiro Mifune, laughing, kicking up his heels in devilish delight, trying to impress the girl, pouting with the landlady, listening with suspicion, then respect to the pilgrim...doing so many things so well, we are bereft when he is absent for the film's conclusion.

And what a conclusion! The harsh clappers that end the movie, the frontal shot of the gambler as he addresses us (for the only time in the film) directly, and the sudden end! Gorky...Kurosawa, Bokuzen Hidari, Toshiro Mifune, Kamatari Fujiwara and the rest....they live on in this masterpiece, for which I am very grateful.

Kurosawa's beautiful film Kagemusha is a meditation on subjects that have haunted the director throughout his career in cinema: the doppelganger or double, (which brings to question identity and how identity is formed, and where identity is located; is it in appearance, world views, actions, attitudes or loves? How does individual choice create a man? What if one's choices were different?) transformation (all Kurosawa heroes go through a transformation) the tragedy of war (note the elegiac images of horses struggling in death throes in the aftermath of the massacre at the film's conclusion) and despair (Kuroswa has investigated despair as few other filmmakers have...from The Lower Depths and Stray Dog to Ran, many of his films meditate deeply on human hearts without hope).

I cannot help but think that Kagemusha's deep feeling comes from the autobiographical: a man (the thief, played by Tatsuya Nakadai) must assume the role of the Lord (or, why not...they say it in the film..."Tenno"...or Emperor...used to describe Kurosaw himself).

Kuroaswa must have wondered, in his time of financial difficulty, after the dismissal of "Dodes-Kaden", after his suicide attempt, after losing his status, during his struggles to find financing for Kagemusha...he must have thought about what it is to assume a role of great authority, and to be dismissed from the role that gave his life meaning.

Tatsuya Nakadai being ejected forcibly from the castle...retainers throwing clods of mud and stones after him, like a stray dog being pelted and driven from the gates of a house...maybe Kurosawa felt that this is how his life had been. He has said, "I am afraid that me minus movies equals nothing". His identity, so involved in the creation of film, in making his meditations and dreams communicated through the medium of film, and the life that grew up around the creation...the friendships, the experiences, the world of making that makes a world...it must have been horrible for him to realize how fragile and easily shattered that world could be! Federico Fellini once said in an interview that criticism felt somehow impertinent...that his work was a reflection of who he was as a human being, and to judge one's work seemed an insult. I remember this as I think about Kagemusha and the other films of Akira Kurosawa. It is with great humility that I approach my thinking about these films, and would refuse, even if forced, to rank them. That really would be impertinent, and an insult to a life dedicated to the highest good an artist can achieve: an honest look at human experience with the intent of understanding the mysteries of the human heart.

Kurosawa's film "The Men Who Tread on the Tiger's Tail" (alternate titles exist) brings to the screen many of the themes the master director will explore fulsomely in later films. This early piece is charming, particularly rewarding for fans of classic Japanese film.

Some of the themes introduced are: Hidden/obscured identity: The Prince who poses as a porter prefigures (inversely), the great Tatsuya Nakadai role of the thief who poses as an emperor in "Kagemusha".

Comedic relief: The "real" porter of "Tiger's Tail", played by the comedian Enoken (hugely popular in the libertine Asakusa district of Tokyo during the war and early post-war period) prefigures the use of a similar comic figure in Kurosawa's last great period film: "Ran" in which "Peter" plays the fool for comic relief, and ultimately, pathos. Double your pleasure and double your fun with the two peasant figures in "The Hidden Fortress"! Japanese Culture: Kurosawa will dip into this well often, and bring something wonderful to the screen. "Throne of Blood" references Noh masks and performance, "Tiger's Tail" references Kabuki.

In summation, then, this film is valuable for itself, and for the indications of Kurosawa's future directions and interests in film. Recommended to the general viewer, and most highly recommended for those who appreciate classic Japanese films. For Kurosawa buffs, essential viewing.

Donald Richie thought it was Kurosawa's finest, and suggested that it might the best Japanese film ever made.

It is a film that rewards casual viewing and careful viewing and repeated viewing and viewing over time. Isn't that rather like a wonderful book, that rewards you every time you pick it up? I suppose that is the definition of greatness.

How was this greatness achieved? (This is not a rhetorical question. It truly astonishes me how this film creates meaning...cutting across all boundaries of nationality, language, and culture to become a meaningful personal experience for those who view it). This creation of greatness may be a mystery, but we can point to the some features of the film's excellence:

The artistic achievement: The music, the cinematography, the extensive set design, the editing and the acting in the service of a moving story all conspire to create a world that becomes ours on a deeply personal level. It is a film which influences later films and filmmakers.

The narrative achievement: Based on an original concept of Kurosawa's which began as a "day in the life" documentary of a samurai's existence, Kurosawa developed the idea into this breathtaking film of samurai who save a village. This simple but complexly nuanced human story involves us in different social classes in an historical framework. We come to know individual peasants and samurai, and feel that we know significant things about them, their motivations, hopes and fears.

The achievements of the actors: These are characters you will love, people you need to have in your life: the characters of Kyuzo, Heihachi and the unforgettable Bokuzen Hidari as a bewildered peasant..! Takeshi Shimura, as the leader of the samurai, Gambei, is the embodiment of wisdom, and calm in the storm. And, saying that Toshiro Mifune has star power is like saying the noonday sun sheds a little warmth.

Toshiro: It's the cut of his jawline when he asks the village patriarch, "Got a problem, grandad?", and the most charming look of confusion and embarrassment playing over his face when he is told by Heihachi that he is the triangle on the samurai flag. It's his energy, speed and agility and power and intelligence. Mifune sniffing out the fuse of a gun in the woods, bouncing through the brush half-naked in an abbreviated set of armor, or carrying his ridiculously oversize sword on one shoulder, Mifune crying over a baby, and the incomparable scene of his embarrassment that turns to rage when Mifune accuses the samurai of creating the farmer's condition.

Toshiro Mifune represents with extraordinary physicality the spirit of a man desperate to prove his worth: Mifune's got the animal sexuality, the physical response to emotional situations, the expressive face, the humorous and varied vocalisms to make us feel deeply what his character experiences: his struggles, his growth.(His drunken burblings as the last "samurai" to audition are nothing short of hilarious, and his "fish singing" is eerie and funny, too...also the grunted "eh?" that he often uses to show confusion, and the "heh" of disgust..such wonderful sounds, and so expressive!) Mifune's acting is wild and alive, even more than 50 years after the film's original release.

Takashi Shimura: You will trust him with your life. His great, open heart, his mature calm, his honesty and compassion make him one of the greatest of all samurai on film.

Fumio Hayasaka's music: Kuroasawa was lucky to have such a brilliant composer as collaborator. Themes introduce characters, and the samurai theme is surprising and memorable. If you have viewed the film, chances are, the samurai theme is playing in your mind with just a mention of the music. Hayasaka's music is muscular and nuanced: creating humor, or a counterpoint to the action, or deepening our sympathy for and understanding of the characters.

Muraki's scenography: There is no doubt that the places shown in the film are real. The achievement of Kurosawa's longtime collaborator provide a real world for the action.

The filmography is ground-breaking: the multiple cameras, slow-motion and attention to light and composition make each frame worthy of an 8X10 glossy. How can individual moments of such beauty be sustained throughout the movement of the film? It is an astonishing feat. And, best of all, no image degenerates into interior design or vacuous prettiness...everything forwards the movement of the cinematic experience. When the film ends, we feel as if we have lived it!

It is with great respect and humility that I offer my thanks to the memory of Mr. Kurosawa. His great work leads us to treasure humanity and its struggles, to develop our own abilities to feel compassion, encourages us to try to make good choices, to be socially and morally responsible, to embrace life.

One of Kurosawa's least-seen films is "The Idiot". The film is set in Hokkaido, the northernmost area of Japan. Deep snow covers the earth, and is shoveled into barriers, seeps in through the ruins of a warehouse in great drifts, piles up against the windows in crescents, howls fiercely as Toshiro Mifune's character and Matsayuki Mori's "Prince Myishkin" step foot off a train into a blizzard.

Dostoevsky's great novel is the resource material.The Prince Myishkin character is Christ-like in the novel, and, as transplanted to Japan may be seen as a Boddhisatva-like character (an Avalokiteshvara or Kanon-a saint of compassion). Matsayuki Mori does an amazing job of portraying a damaged but compassionate soul..one that feels deeply the pain of those he encounters, and who speaks the truth simply, with a pure heart and an awareness of suffering. In one scene, he holds Toshiro Mifune's face between his small, gentle hands, and there is such a tender sensibility, his hands seem to communicate love and absorb the pain of Mifune's character. It is a breathtaking moment.

Toshiro Mifune is brilliantly cast as the thuggish suitor who vies with Mori for the soul of the beautiful and doomed Taeko Nasu character played with uncharacteristic drama by Setsuko Hara.

This complex, rich, layered, frightening, deeply disturbing film has been under-appreciated from the outset-beginning with the studio, which cut the film drastically (Kurosawa was outraged! *see trivia). Japanese audiences didn't understand or like the film, and other audiences have found it weird. Some of this relates directly to Donald Richie's seminal work on Kurosawa and his conclusion that "The Idiot" was a failure. Unfortunately, Richie's conclusion seems to have put replaced the nails in "The Idiot's" coffin with screws. It's very hard to pry open the film.

Sure, it is a weird film...that's what is so interesting. Kurosawa has made one of the most powerfully strange films, while stretching the range of his actors (have you ever imagined you would see Setsuko Hara like this? She's terrifying in her desperation and pain!) giving the scenes a grounded reality, and allowing us to enter into the lives of these tragic, doomed souls.

This is one of the finest films of world cinema, although one of the least-viewed.