Rashomon (1950): adapted from stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa by Akira Kurosawa and Shinobu Hashimoto; directed by Akira Kurosawa; starring Toshiro Mifune (Tajomaru), Machiko Kyo (Masako Kanazawa), Masayuki Mori (Takehiro Kanazawa), Takashi Shimura (Woodcutter), Minoru Chiaki (Priest), and Kichijiro Ueda (Commoner):
The film that brought the attention of the world to writer-director Akira Kurosawa, Rashomon (named for the city gate beneath which its frame story occurs) remains a terse gem, expansive in its vision of humanity's faults and strengths. The structure is maybe the least interesting thing about it, and the structure is brilliant -- the same rape-and-murder incident told in four wildly different ways by four different voices.
The incident takes place in the countryside of feudal Japan. The frame story, central to the full vision of Kurosawa's morality, takes place at a ruined temple where three travelers, including a Monk grown weary of humanity's moral failings, shelter from a torrential downpour.
Those four voices are that of the alleged rapist and murderer, the disgraced wife, the murdered husband (by way of a medium), and an eyewitness. I remember reading a review from the time in which the American reviewer tried to figure out which version was correct. That reviewer discarded the testimony of the husband because ghosts don't exist. This is what I call missing the point of a movie.
I can't think of anything bad to say about Rashomon. The performances are splendid, the shot composition deft and often haunting, and whatever the moral of the whole thing might be, it's far from simple. It's also Kurosawa's shortest great film, clocking in at about 90 minutes, less than half the length of Seven Samurai and more than an hour shorter than Kagemusha and Ran. So you've got time to watch it! Highly recommended.
Kagemusha (1980): written by Masato Ide and Akira Kurosawa; directed by Akira Kurosawa; starring Tatsuya Nakadai (Shingen Takeda/ Kagemusha), Tsutomu Yamazaki (Nobukado Takeda), Ken'ichi Hagiwara (Katsuyori Takeda), and Jinpachi Nezu (Sohachiro Tsuchiya):
Kagemusha occurs in 16th-century feudal Japan, with financing to complete the film arranged by George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola. Kagemusha literally means 'double' or 'shadow warrior.' It tells the tale of a thief who replaces the first-injured and then-deceased Lord Shingen Takeda so as to keep the Lord's many enemies convinced that this military genius still lives.
The American financing came about because of the scale of the final battle sequence, though even that sequence surprises us in how all that money is deployed on the screen. Akira Kurosawa was a master of surprise, among many other things. The cinematography is terrific throughout, whether for that doom-laden final battle or for an eerie dream sequence experienced by the thief or for the shadows-and-silhouettes used to indicate battle throughout.
Kurosawa also pulls off the difficult feat of giving us a movie with only one truly likable character, the thief -- and even he is a flawed creature. There's a certain elegiac quality to the proceedings as we see the warfare of the Middle Ages give way to gunpowder and cannons. But Kurosawa undercuts his elegy with both the brutal realities of combat and with the characterization of those lords and retainers still committed to the old ways: in the end, they are deluded and, in their conduct towards the thief, an ungrateful lot of upper-class pricks.
Of Kurosawa's many films involving pre-20th-century Samurai culture, this may be the least. It's certainly the most intimate, despite that giant battle sequence. Even if the least, it's Kurosawa, which beats the best of most everyone else. Kagemusha haunts one in a more mundane way than the supernaturally tinged Throne of Blood, in a less spectacular way than Ran or Seven Samurai. But it definitely haunts, especially in its last tragic, absurd shot. Highly recommended.
