Akira kurasawa

Kurosawa #8 Throne of Blood (Japan 1957)

Miki (Kubo
Akira) and Washizu (Mifune Toshiro) approach the witch (who wears a
noh mask).
Throne of Blood is one of the best-known films by Kurosawa Akira. It was
highly-praised in the West but not so warmly received in Japan. The
reasons given for this difference in reception are (1) it is an adaptation/
version/re-imagining of Shakespeares Macbeth (2) Kurosawa used
elements of noh theatre in a jidaigeki or period film, which in Japanese
Cinema would traditionally have been influenced by the more populist
kabuki theatre. The result is that the film as a film has been rather
obscured by the metatext about its status as Shakespeare and
Japaneseness. Thats a shame because it is a great Kurosawa movie with
a terrific performance by Mifune Toshiro and a wonderfully imaginative
representation of time and place forests, castles and windswept and
fog-bound heathland.
The following notes have been adapted from material given out on a
recent study day on Kurosawa:
Setting
This version of Macbeth is transplanted to the early part of the Sengoku
period of civil wars in

Japanese history (1467-1573). This assertion is partly based on the

absence of firearms. These were important in the wars of the later 16th
century that eventually produced the settlement of the Tokugawa
Shogunate (otherwise known as the Edo Period Edo is the old name for
Tokyo). During the long period of civil wars, the Japanese Emperor was
confined to Kyoto and warlords vied for power in different provinces
across Japan.
Although many Japanese filmmakers are associated with jidaigeki, these
tend to be based on traditional stories that had become kabuki plays
during the Edo period. Kurosawa was an innovator in staging much more
historically accurate (more realistically detailed) films from the Sengoku
period and the final warring period before the triumph of Tokugawa

Ieyasu in 1603. Seven Samurai, Hidden Fortress,Kagemusha and Ran are

the other Kurosawa films with this period setting.
The actions of the characters in Throne of Blood are consistent with those
of the period in Japanese history although as Stephen Prince
(2003/2010) points out, the wars were perhaps not as bloody as
Kurosawa makes them. But he was creating them from a 20th century
perspective informed by his own experiences of war and disaster.
Noh and kabuki
Japanese cinema developed roughly in parallel with cinema in the West
and filmmakers such as Kurosawa were influenced by the Western films
they saw in the 1920s. Japanese films were much more closely
associated with Japans three traditional theatrical forms, noh, kabuki and
bunraku (a form of puppet theatre) and the modern theatre associated
with the contact with the West from the 1860s onwards (shinpa/
shingeki).
Noh is the earliest of these forms, dating from the 14th century and is
associated with drama and dance performed for the aristocracy in a
refined and austere manner. Actors play heavily typed roles and
individuality is hidden behind masks. Movements are restrained and
sometimes paradoxical, so that a small movement can signal a major
dramatic act.
Kabuki is a later form developing in the 17th century during the Edo
period and designed more as popular entertainment. In many ways,
kabuki is the opposite ofnoh with its appeal to a popular audience in
large theatres. Yoshimoto Mitsuhiro (2000) suggests that noh is a
classical form and kabuki is a baroque form. Kabukihas been seen as
similar to Elizabethan drama in its appeal to audiences and its dealings
in spectacle. (Noh is more concerned with words: actions are often offstage). Not surprisingly, perhaps, it was kabuki rather than noh that
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became the source of plots for Japanese period film dramas, especially
action films. The same companies who owned the early
cinemas and started to make films were also engaged in promoting
kabuki shows in their live theatres. Kabuki might be said to be the more
earthy Shintoist response to the Buddhist austerity of noh.
It is interesting therefore that Kurosawa chose noh rather than kabuki as a
prominent aesthetic influence upon Throne of Blood. The clearest
examples of this in the film are in the depictions of the witch in Cobweb
Forest and the central performance of Yamada Isuzu as the Lady Macbeth
character, Lady Asaji. Although Kurosawa didnt require his actors to wear
noh masks as such, he showed them appropriate masks and asked them
to study the facial expressions. They also wore make-up that shaped their
facial features to resemble masks. In the case of the witch, she first
appears as the old lady yaseonna and in later scenes as the mountain
witch, yamauba. Yamada was shown the shakumi mask the face of
beautiful middle-aged woman on the brink of madness. Mifune as
Washizu was also shown the heida mask of the warrior.
Contrasts and clashes: Mifune
The whole film is built on a rhythm of contrasting styles, moods and
tones. One of these can be seen in relation to the playing of Mifune
Toshiro. Mifune was Kurosawas leading man in most of his films between
1948 and 1965. Casting Mifune is one example of the ways in which
Kurosawa innovated. As an actor, Mifune stood out in two ways. First was
his sheer physical vitality. He literally ate up the screen space. Kurosawa
claimed that Mifune could convey the same meaning in a third of the
time that it took all other Japanese actors. He seems the least likely actor
to be in a noh play far too coarse and brutal, always seemingly teetering
on the edge of breaking out into violent action. (But Kurosawa tells us he
was a sensitive man of refinement.)
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Mifune dominates the screen with his physical presence here presented
in the context of the fog and stylised forest.
The second point was that Mifunes accent was Manchurian and because
he spoke as he acted often violently he offered a complete change to
actors coached in kabuki theatre who enunciated clearly. One interesting
aspect of the film is therefore the contrast between the acting styles of
Yamada and Mifune in the internal scenes.
Japanese visual art: the pen and ink school
The history of Eastern painting is quite different to that of the West and
up to the late 19th century, different forms of Japanese art were very
popular in the domestic market. Kurosawa himself was interested in both
Western painting styles and traditional Japanese modes. Stephen Prince
(2010) describes this aspect of Throne of Blood:
The striking emptiness of the spaces in the film the skies, the dense
roiling fog that obscures mountains and plains is a cinematic rendition
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of sumi-e composition. This style of pen-and-ink drawing leaves large

portions of the picture unfilled, making this emptiness a positive
compositional (and spiritual) value. Kurosawa believed that this style of
picture making resonated deeply with the Japanese, and he was eager to
infuse the film with this aesthetic. (Production designer Yoshiro Murakis
castle set was black and was built on the dark, volcanic soil of Mt. Fuji in
order to heighten
the sumi-e effect, the contrast of dark and light. Although based on
historical sketches, the castle is not of any single period.) As a positive
value, this pictorial and spiritual emptiness is set against the human
world of vanity, ambition, and violence, which Kurosawa suggests is all
illusion. The Buddhist arts of Noh and sumi-eenabled him to visualise
this disjunction between the hell of life as we poor creatures know it,
subject to our strivings, our desires, and our will, and the cosmic order
that negates them.
Contrasts and clashes 2: Camerawork and editing
Kurosawa has been highly praised by critics for several reasons not least
his command of the full panoply of the filmmakerss art camerawork,
mise en scne, editing (which he did himself on this film) and sound
design. Across his 30 films he demonstrates many different and styles
and the ways in which he has absorbed and transmogrified styles from a
variety of film movements.
In Throne of Blood, the film is predicated on the structure of static
sequences, almost in tableau,
broken up by scenes of dramatic action with a change of composition,
shot size and camera movement. The great proponent of studying the
formal characteristics of Japanese Cinema is Nol Burch whose
controversial book on Japanese Cinema was published in 1979. (The
book was controversial because of the use he put his scholarship to in
terms of the politics of film studies in the 1980s.) Burch refers to
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the contrasting scenes in Throne of Blood (or Cobweb Castle as he terms

it in a direct translation) as lyrical agitation on the one hand and tense
stasis on the other.
Burch also discusses Kurosawas debt to Eisenstein and the concept of the
shot-change. In simple terms this means a style that contrasts with the
invisible nature of Hollywoods continuity editing. The shot-change
celebrates the visible transition from one shot to another, possibly
through deliberate mismatching of eye-lines or as in Throne of Blood in
the use of Kurosawas favourite device of this period, the hard-edged fast
wipe which abruptly takes us from one scene to another in the most
visible way possible (cf the gradual fade out/fade in or the unobtrusive
straight cut). This is one example of the way in which Kurosawa confirms
the artificiality of film, emphasising its constructedness. The use of noh
acting devices is another. See too the distortion of space in the sequence
of the funeral procession approaching the castle.

An example of Kurosawas dramatic mise en scne with its sparse decor

and low-key lighting and its overall resemblance to a scene from a noh
play.
What does it all mean?
If we understand all these facets of the film, what do we make of
Kurosawas approach to what is a familiar story? Stephen Prince offers us
a particular reading:
The Noh masks point to a huge difference between this theatrical
tradition and Shakespeares, one that helps give the film many of its
unusual qualities. Noh is not psychologically oriented; characters are not
individualised. Its characters are types the old man, the woman, the
warrior, and so on and the plays are quite didactic, aiming to impart a
lesson. Kurosawa, therefore, strips all the psychology out of Macbethand
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gives us a film whose characters are Noh types and where emotions the
province of character in the drama of the West are located here as
absolute types. Emotion here isnt an attribute of character psychology,
but a formal embodiment in landscape and weather. The bleached skies,
the fog, the barren plains, and characters going adrift against and within
these spaces this is where the emotion of the film resides. It is
objectified within and through the world of things. As a result, the film
has a definite coldness; it keeps the viewer outside the world it depicts.
Kurosawa wants us to grasp the lesson, to see the folly of human
behaviour, rather than to identify or empathise with the characters.
. . . If Kurosawa strips the psychology from Macbeth, he also strips out
Shakespeares political conservatism, refusing to give us the plays
reassuring conclusion (flattering to James I) in which a
just political authority triumphs. In Kurosawas film and worldview, the
cycle of human violence never ends. Thus the films many circular motifs
describe the real tragedy at the heart of the history that Throne of
Blooddramatises. Why do people kill each other so often and through so
many ages? Kurosawa had no answer to this question. But he showed us
here, through the films chorus, its circularity, and its Buddhist aesthetics,
that there may not finally be an answer within this world. The aesthetics
and philosophy of Throne of Blood take us well beyond Shakespeare, and
thats why this is
a great film. Its accomplishments are not beholden to another medium or
artist. Kurosawa gives us his own vision, expressed with ruthless, chilling
power, and its the totality of that vision, its sweep and its
uncompromising nature, that move and terrify us and that we are so
seldom privileged to see in cinema. Conclusion
I confess that I dont care much for Shakespeare. Im sure that I am
missing out, but Im too old now
to start over. It does mean, however, that I can watch Throne of Blood
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objectively, not worried about fidelity to an existing text. At the same

time, because Ive seen other film versions, I know the basic story so I can
focus on how the events are presented. It seems to me that Burch and
Prince make persuasive arguments. Throne of Blood is certainly one of
Kurosawas major achievements and a film to which he would return
with varying success in the later works, Kagemusha and Ran. Its strengths
are in the careful structuring of the narrative, the strong and coherent
visual style, the location and settings and the direction of a group of
highly-skilled actors led by Mifune on top form.
In a lengthy essay on Throne of Blood, Yoshimoto Mitsuhiro (2000)
explores the questions about both the Shakespeare adaptation and the
supposed Japaneseness of the film in some detail, marshalling a range
of theoretical ideas. I dont have space to explore these here but Id like to
quote Yoshimotos conclusion which ties in nicely with some of the
discussion above:
Despite its use of noh and other types of traditional Japanese art, Throne
of Blood has little to do with the affirmation of Japaneseness. Nor is it an
attempt to create a new national film style. Instead, Kurosawa
simultaneously tries to expand the possibility of film form and reexamine the specific history and genre conventions of Japanese Cinema.
Throne of Blood is a unique film made by a true innovator of cinema.
(Yoshimoto, 2000:269)
References
Noel Burch (1979) To the Distant Observer: Form and Meaning in the
Japanese Cinema, Berkeley:
University of California Press (this book is now available as a pdf on free
download from the University of Michigan
Stephen Prince (2003/2010) Throne of Blood: Shakespeare Transposed
Yoshimoto Mitsuhiro (2000) Kurosawa: Film Studies and Japanese
Cinema, Durham NC: Duke University Press
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Kurosawa #7 Scandal(Sukyandaru, 1950)

The Japanese poster for the film showing the four principals. The
handsome Mifune Toshiro is the artist. Below are Shimura Takashi
as the lawyer, Yamaguchi Yoshiko as the singer and Katsuragi Yoko as the
sick girl.
For much of his career up to 1965 Kurosawa Akira was contracted to Toho
(in the latter part of this period through his own production company)
but in the late 1940s, because of labour unrest at Toho, Kurosawa took his
projects to other studios. Scandal was produced by Shochiku, more
associated for cinephiles with the work of Ozu Yasujiro. Although often
regarded as one of Kurosawas minor works, Scandal has several
interesting features.
Plot outline (no spoilers)
Mifune Toshiro plays Aoye Ichir, an artist (Kurosawas profession before
he entered the film industry). Aoye is on holiday painting landscapes in
the mountains. One day a young woman with a suitcase walks up to his
painting spot. She appears to be heading for the hotel where Aoye is
staying so he gives her a lift on his motorbike. At the hotel, Aoye visits the
young womans room to see how she is settling in. Both are dressed
informally and when they peer over the balcony to admire a view they
hear a click the paparazzi (or at least their predecessors in the Japanese
yellow press) are at work. The young woman is a famous singer and
there is a market value in an image of her and the handsome artist. Aoye
then
sues the scandal magazine (ironically titled Amore) which runs the
photo. He chooses an unprepossessing lawyer to prosecute the case,
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seemingly won over by the lawyers sick daughter who is bed-ridden with
TB. And this is where the problems begin . . .
Commentary
Some critics see this film as failing because it moves into melodrama.
Several of us on this site are melodrama fans, so that isnt necessarily a
bad thing. It must be said, however, that Scandal offers a rather unusual
combination of elements. Kurosawa sets up an interesting proposition in
the first few scenes. The artist paints a picture which is not a faithful
reproduction of a landscape but it conveys a truth (which the artist
eventually finds through hard work). The photograph at the centre of the
scandal is just the opposite an accurate rendering of a moment, but
ultimately untruthful about what is happening. This mismatch between
imitation of reality and the truth behind an image is carried through to
Aoyes relationship with the lawyer played by Shimura Takashi and with
the lawyers sick daughter. These relationships become the focus of the
melodrama (rather than the expected relationship with the singer).
Scandal is ostensibly a social protest film about the yellow press (what
is now usually called the tabloid press). Because information and
comment had been so severely repressed in the
Japanese media during the long wartime period, there was an explosion
of sensational journalism in the immediate post-war period. This was
clearly a social issue. Exposure of corruption was, of course, a social good,
but it was accompanied by exploitation of personal problems. Yoshimoto
Mitsuhiro in his book on Kurosawa and Japanese Cinema (2000)
observes that Kurosawa was early in critiquing this kind of journalism
and it was not followed up in Japanese Cinema until Masumura Yasuzos
Giants and Toys in 1958 (and again by Kurosawa in The Bad Sleep Well,
1960). But Scandal also has another reference to contemporary social
problems. The lawyer is poor and his daughter is seriously ill with TB
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just as the Mifune character in Drunken Angel (1948). The lawyer even
lives in an area with a stagnant pool as in the earlier film.
The media discourse which the film explores is well represented in the
films mise en scne. Kurosawa and his cinematographer Ubukata Toshio
have great fun with posters, microphones, flashbulbs, cine cameras and
arclights in a series of montages and set pieces, such as the court case
that comprises much of the last section of the film.
The problem with the film, I think, is in how Kurosawa has fashioned a
narrative around the idea of a true man and a man of imitation the
Mifune-Shimura axis again played in a way that sees the artist character
of Mifune puzzled by the new media environment and determined to
preserve his honour (and that of the singer) whereas Shimura (the
lawyer) is a much more feeble character who, although he does not
understand the new world is easily persuaded to abandon his honour.
This is a melodrama of redemption in which Shimura becomes the
centre. (There is also a true melodrama villain in the form of the
magazine owner.) The court case is linked back to the truth/imitation
thematic in several ways. In the lawyers
ramshackle office there is a photo of his daughter in school uniform. he
artist recognises that this is a true photo and it helps him to decide to hire
the father. The father knows this truth, so when he is about to do
something shameful, he turns the photo to face the wall.
The expected melodrama involving the singer doesnt happen, instead
the focus switches to the lawyers daughter. The singer must be present
for the court case and the narrative demands the presence of another
woman almost as a chaperone. This is the artists model and his friend.
At one point, they discuss the conventions of Western painting and the
artist suggests that Japanese art cant deal with the nude. In this sense
the artist is aware of the westernisation of Japanese culture and when
he visits the lawyers family at Christmas he
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brings a tree on his motorbike.

I was struck by some of the American responses to the film (which has
now appeared on DVD in Criterions box sets of Kurosawa). A New York
Times reviewby Vincent Canby from 1980 suggests that the film is a satire
on the Americanisation of Japan during the Occupation and that in some
ways the film seems first like a pastiche of Hollywood romcoms and then
undercuts this with its change of direction. Another reviewer points us
towards Sam Fullers films about journalism. Yamaguchi Yoshiko (like
Mifune, born in Manchuria) who plays the singer later appeared in some
American films as Shirley Yamaguchi including Sam Fullers Japan-set
thriller House of Bamboo (1955). The courtroom scenes are similar to
those in Hollywood films, although the presence of newsreel cameras
makes them look more like Senate hearings. There is a suggestion that
some of the courtroom procedures might be new perhaps as a result
of reforms by the Occupation forces?
This is certainly a film worth seeing, with some excellent set pieces and a
real sense of the vitality found in so many of Kurosawas films in this
period. Perhaps it has been overshadowed only because it was made in
the same year as Rashomon. One warning though if you dont like
melodrama acting, you may find Shimuras performance just a little too
much. I prefer him in Ikiru (1952).

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Kurosawa #6: The Bad Sleep Well (Warui yatsu hodo yoku
nemuru, Japan 1960)

party arrives at the beginning of the film

The wedding
1960. Kurosawa Productions and Toho Studio. Screenplay: Shinobu
Hashimoto, Hideo Oguni, Ryuzo Kikushima, Eijiro Hisaiti and Akira
Kurosawa. Black and white CinemaScope photography: Yazuru Aizawa.
Music: Masaru Sato.
This was the first feature from Kurosawa own production unit. The
production team includes names familiar from his other films. And the
lead character is played by Toshiro Mifune: almost an alter ego for the
director. The films plot is reminiscent of William Shakespeares Hamlet,
though there is no reference to this in the credits. However, Shakespeare
[like the classic Russian novels] is a recurring source for Kurosawas films.
What is interesting is that what appears to interest him are the revenge
tragedies: Macbeth, Hamlet and Lear.
Nishis (Toshiro Mifune) father was a victim of corporate corruption. Nishi
marries into the family of Iwabuchi (Masayuki Mori) the Vice-President of
a Land Development Corporation and a senior figure in the network of
corruption. Obtaining the position as secretary to the Vice-President,
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Nishi proceeds to subvert the criminal network from inside. His

unexpected emotional feelings for his new wife Yoshiko (Kyko Kagawa)
engender similar vacillations to that of Hamlet in Shakespeares version.
This sets up a dark, downbeat and tragic finale.
The film opens at a high-class wedding ceremony attended by leading
businessmen and government officials. We are immediately plunged
into a formal Japanese occasion. However, the wedding party themselves
are plunged into anxiety as newspapermen and then police arrive on the
trail of a corporate corruption conspiracy. There is a sharp contrast
between the ritual formalism of the wedding reception and the public
events being exposed. Kurosawas camera shows us the corporate bosses
struggling to maintain a facade over their repressed anxieties whilst the
newsmen act like a Greek chorus on the developing drama. This
repression is powerfully visualised in one moment of the sequence. The
young bride suffers from a disabled foot. This is partially hidden in the
drapery of the traditional costume of a Japanese bride. However, she
stumbles on entry, exposing her deformity. The visible shock that
accompanies this accident presages the more dramatic shocks and
exposures that follow later in the film.
Whilst the opening sequence raises a host of questions it also introduces
the main characters and the theme of corruption that dominates the film.
Kurosawa explained
At last I decided to do something about corruption, because it always
seemed to me that graft, bribery, etc., at the public level, is one of the
worst crimes that there is. These people hide
behind the facade of some great company or corporation and
consequently no one knows how dreadful they really are, what awful
things they do. (In Sight and Sound, Autumn 1964).
In the film Nishis motives are more personal than social. As the story
develops we come to find out about his history and to understand what it
15

is that motivate his actions. We also start to realise the complicating

emotions that he begins to experience. When Yoshiko stumbles at the
wedding reception it is her brother Tatsuo (Tatsuya Mihashi) rather than
Nishi who rushes to assist her. Later in the film when the young wife
stumbles and falls at home it is Nishi himself who rushes forward to catch
and carry her to her room. Tatsuo also develops conflicting emotions. He
harbours guilt over the childhood accident that resulted in his sister
becoming lame. He hates his father, but suspects that Nishi is not a
good husband. But he finally takes the side of Nishi.
Parallel to these personal complications are those of Nishis investigation
and manipulation, which aim to expose the corruption and the
perpetrators. He does this partly by suborning and blackmailing lower
member of the conspiracy. But he also sets up dramatic occasions when
he can pressurise and observe the conspiracys leaders. The first of these
occurs at the wedding. When the ritual cake arrives it is followed by a
second: an unsuspecting waiter wheels in a large reconstruction of a
corporate building It is in fact a copy of a block from which one of the
network, Furuya [Nishis father] jumped or was pushed to his death. The
ambiguity over the death springs from the loyalty embedded in the
system: underlings sacrifice themselves because they cannot bring
themselves to expose their superiors.
Parallel examples appear later in the film. Wada (Kamatari Fujiwara), a
corrupt accountant, is believed to have committed suicide. In fact he is
hidden by Nishi. Wada watches his own funeral with Nishi. Dramatically
the scene is accompanied by a secret recording made by Nishi of the
conspirators discussing the convenient demise of Wada. A later scene in
the building in which Furuya died has Shirai, (Akira Nishimura), the
corrupt Contract Officer, driven mad by his competing fears of death and
betrayal.
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Nishis companion Itakura (Takeshi Kato) is a wartime friend and also a

business partner. They have swapped identities so that Nishi [once
Itakura] can penetrate the conspirators network unrecognised. In 1945
Nishi and Itakura were part of the defence at an armaments factory, now
a bombed and ruined wasteland. It is here that the film reaches its
conclusion. Here Nishi holds captive and interrogates Moriyama (Takashi
Shimura), one of the key conspirators.
However, Yoshiko mistakenly gives his secret away to her father and the
conspirators set out to eliminate Nishi and safeguard their positions.
Unlike the Shakespearean version there is no Fortinbras to bring in a new
and accountable regime. All that Tatsuo can do is tend to his traumatised
sister. Itakura [once Nishi] loses his identity and is rendered a non-person
by the death of Nishi.
Whilst Shakespeare does not get an official credit Kurosawas version is
full of references to the famous play. Apart from the dead father and the
sons efforts for revenge we have the murderous stepfather, the faithful
friend and companion, the lovelorn heroine and her angry brother: we
even have a suborned widow, though much less developed than
Shakespeares Queen. Alongside these characters there is a ghost: a
dramatic recreation of a murder: graves and funerals: gunplay instead of
swordplay: and poisonings. What we seem to have is a Shakespearean
tale reconstructed in contemporary Japan.
I found the opening of the film riveting as we watch the surface formality
so typical of Japanese drama. But we also watch the hidden currents of
greed, fear and revenge. The sequence sets up a series of strands of both
personal and public conflict. The CinemaScope photography is exemplary
as we watch the various manoeuvres by the characters. Visually the films
conclusion provides a darker parallel, set in the disused arms factory, as
Nishi and Itakura desperately seek to complete their investigations, only
17

half aware of the trap that is closing in on them. The shattered and dismal
landscape becomes a metaphor for the social chaos depicted in the film.

factory
The derelict
Unfortunately I find the drama that separates these two episodes less
convincing. There are impressive set pieces: a man contemplates suicide
on a smoking wasteland of stones and ash: three men walked through a
labyrinth of gleaming metal, and bright lights and shadows, typical of
the noir atmosphere in the film. There are secret meetings of the
conspirators and the clear evidence of a Mr Big, in the shadowy
background. However, the personal dramas do not achieve the same
dramatic edge.
Part of the problem seems to be the motivation of Nishi. It is his
suppressed emotions for his new wife that creates the vacillation that in
Shakespeare springs from the character of Hamlet. But the film does not
offer enough attention to the relationship to make this convincing. The
female characters are mostly underdeveloped. This is a reflection of the
contemporary world of business, government and the media. Thus when
the high-ranking guests arrive for the reception only the male member
signs the Reception Book.
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But it is also that female characters are not really developed in most
Kurosawa films. His films privilege male bonding rather than
heterosexual couples. Despite her importance in the plot and in the
relationships between the men Yoshiko is a fairly undeveloped character.
And Furuyas wife appears only to be duped in a similar fashion to
Yoshiko.
Even so the film remains a dramatic and compelling story. It is beautifully
composed with an evocative soundtrack. Kurosawa and his team offer
distinctive stylistic tropes: like the familiar recurring cut on a wipe. The
cast portrays the dark, seedy world of corruption with conviction.

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Kurosawa #5: I Live in Fear (Record of a Living Being Japan

1955)

Nakajima (Mifune Toshiro, centre) uses his fan vigorously in the heat of
the adjudicator's office. Shimura Takashi (an adjudicator)
can just be seen on the left edge of the frame. Nakajima is standing
between his daughter and son.
(This post was sent to us by Leung Wing-Fai )
I Live in Fear, also known as Record of a Living Being, centres on Kurosawa
Akiras humanist concerns. The contemporary drama is one of the lesserknown films of the acclaimed auteur. It tells the story of a 60-year old
industrialist Nakajima (played by Mifune Toshiro who was only 35 at the
time) who decides to take his entire family to Brazil after the Second
20

World War and the Bikini Incident. In 1954 the US forced the 166
inhabitants of Bikini Atoll in the Marshall Islands to leave their homes,
and then conducted a full-scale test of an atomic bomb, which was
thousand times as powerful as the explosion at Hiroshima. The Japanese
fishing boat Lucky Dragon strayed just beyond the demarcation zone
resulting in all crew members being killed or suffering radiation sickness.
The incident sparked a national petition (with 20 million signatures)
calling for a ban on nuclear weapons.
Nakajimas family takes him to court and tries to declare him mentally ill
in order to stop him
from spending the family fortune on migration to Brazil. On the other
hand Nakajima believes that the nuclear threat is the madness and fails
to understand why everyone else should be so complacent. The opening
credit shows crowded Tokyo streets full of faceless commuters who seem
orderly yet lacking in direction. It can be interpreted as a statement on
the groups lack
of ability to challenge fate, which the old mans children are all ready to
accept. One of his sons tells him that there is no point worrying about the
atomic bomb as they cannot do anything about it anyway. Nakajima is
not only fighting the fears of nuclear destruction but the weight of the
crowd represented by his numerous relatives.
One of the most striking scenes is when Nakajima hears planes flying
low, and sees a flash of lightning in the sky; he rushes over to his
grandson and wraps himself around the baby to protect him. His
daughter is horrified and grabs the child from Nakajima. The scene sums
up the old mans motivation and the reaction of his unsympathetic
family. The turning point comes when Nakajima burns down his factory to
force his family to migrate, with the opposite effect; they are more
convinced that he is demented. The ending is most regretful. Nakajima
has been put in an asylum. One of the magistrates goes to visit him;
21

when Nakajima sees the setting sun, he thinks that it is a nuclear

explosion and shouts, Its burning! The earth is on fire. The film was
supposedly inspired by the death of Kurosawas long term colleague, the
composer Hayasaka Fumio who once told the director, The world has
come to such a state that we dont really know what is in store for us
tomorrow . . . Every day there are fewer and fewer places that are safe.
Soon there will be no place at all. Hayasaka died during the filming of I
Live in Fear, which explains the dark world-view. Unsurprisingly the film
was too topical and dark to be successful among the Japanese public, but
even now it reminds us that perhaps fear heightens the sense of being,
as the two titles respectively suggest.

22

Kurosawa #4: High and Low (Japan 1963)

A static 'tableau' of the Gondo family with the police. Kingo Gondo
(Mifune) is sat at the left with his wife and son. Inspector Tokura is in the
dark suit. Note the chauffeur on the extreme right of the frame in a
supplicant's pose.
This is an excellent film by any criteria. It shows Kurosawa Akira at the
height of his powers during the phase when he could produce
entertainment pictures which also offered another dimension of artistic
achievement. High and Low is based on the crime fiction novel by Ed
McBain (Evan Hunter). McBain was well known for his police
procedurals (Hunter wrote non-genre novels, several of which became
Hollywood movies and also other genre novels under different
pseudonyms and screenplays under the Hunter name). Kings Ransom is
one of the famous 87th Precinct novels. It details the investigation of a
kidnapping case. Kurosawa adapted various Western literary sources
including Shakespeare, Gorky and Dostoyevsky, but I dont think he
adapted any other genre novels by Western writers (unless you count the
claims that Yojimbo is based on a Dashiell Hammett story).
Plot outline (some spoilers)
Kingo Gondo is a business executive someone who has worked his way
up to Production Manager in a Japanese shoe company. The narrative
23

opens on the night when other executives from the company have come
to his house to persuade him to join them in ousting the company
President and modernise the companys product line. Gondo (Mifune
Toshiro) is in some ways an old-fashioned craftsman who doesnt want to
make cheap fashion shoes. He refuses to join the plot and when the men
have gone he reveals to his aide that he has been secretly buying shares
and if he does the final deal he will control the company himself.
Gondo lives in a modern house on top of a hill overlooking the port city
of Yokohama. Soon after his meeting he is shocked to receive a phone
call from a kidnapper who claims to have taken his son and
is demanding a huge ransom of 30 million. But the kidnapper has
made a mistake he has taken the wrong boy and he actually has the son
of Gondos chauffeur. Nevertheless he wants his money. The police are
called led by Inspector Tokura (Nakadai Tatsuya). Gondo is faced with a
terrible dilemma does he pay the ransom to free the boy and lose all
the money he has gambled on the takeover of the company? (He has
mortgaged the house to get enough funds.) Or does he risk the boy
being killed and save his business future?
Commentary
The original title of the Japanese film translates as Heaven and Hell,
which seems very apt. To the kidnapper, Gondos house, the rich mans
house on the top of the hill seems to be represented as heaven. In the
poorer apartments below life is certainly more hellish, especially during
the oppressive heat and humidity in Summer. Kurosawas adaptation (cowritten with several collaborators) has several clever tricks up its sleeve.
The actual investigation is expertly paced and features a fascinating train
sequence for the drop-off of the money and some excellent police
department scenes. This is quality entertainment, but what makes the
film great art is the application of two familiar Kurosawa strengths. The
first is the excellent playing of the lead roles with Mifune in an unusual
24

role in which he humanises Gondo the businessman. The second is the

decision to film most of the first section of the narrative in static tableaux
of the Gondo family and the police in Gondos house emphasised by
the brilliant use of the CinemaScope frame as in the composition above.
This is almost like a stage play with characters holding their positions and
sometimes looking or staring off-screen. This is then contrasted by the
much busier (and more realist) scenes of the investigation shot on
location in Yokohama and on the railway.
What I think that this stylistic difference achieves is to establish a kind of
distance from the events and to invite an analysis of the story in
metaphorical terms. This seems like a modernist device. (A conclusion
strengthened by the single use of colour in what is otherwise a black and
white film at a crucial point in the investigation.) It would seem that
Kurosawa certainly achieved his aim of stirring up a critical storm (if that
was his intention). Some critics have criticised the film as ideologically
conservative. It is certainly true that one of the platforms for the police
investigation is the presentation of their work as helping Gondos family
to protect the boy and pointedly helping the rich to stay safe. The
Inspector even says at one point that he would understand if Gondo
refused to pay because he would be risking all. The critics disquiet is
heightened by the fact that the kidnapper also faces the death penalty
when he kills his accomplices and that the narrative almost seems to
endorse his capture in order that he be executed (the police dont do
much to prevent a further murder). Can this be the liberal Kurosawa of
earlier films?
But its not as simple as that. Kurosawa undercuts the straightforward
support for the establishment message, mainly through Mifunes
performance as Gondo who first suffers a business setback and
then rebuilds his career. He is embarrassed by the begging that his
chauffeur performs pleading for help with his son and he is deceived by
25

the aide he had trusted. If anything, Kurosawa critiques contemporary

capitalism as he did in the earlier The Bad Sleep Well (1960). At the end
of the film, Gondo meets the kidnapper twice. First he unknowingly
meets the man on the street and then finally is summoned to meet the
now condemned man in prison. But the kidnapper never explains his
motives. He is not contrite and Gondo is left puzzled. I think Kurosawa is
asking us to consider what the story is about. Who or what is to blame for
this kind of criminal action?
On the down side, Kurosawa makes little use of Mrs Gondo (Kagawa
Kyuko) apart from some lines of dialogue and the contrast offered by her
costume in the first section of the film (traditional Japanese) and in the
second (Western).
Yoshimoto Mitsuhiro offers a long and detailed analysis of the film which
I wont summarise here except to note that he refers to the discourse of
urban geography how the Japanese city looks in 1963, relating it to
looking as a general activity (several clues come from sketches of his
experiences made by the kidnapped boy and the police use photography
in interesting ways). The suggestion is that there is a metaphor for
changing national identity at work here in the new ways of looking at
society although Kurosawa doesnt seem convinced of a coherent new
identity being formed.
I watched the BFI Region 2 DVD of the film (which is only available on
16mm film in the UK). I hope we eventually get to see a 35mm print. I
understand that Martin Scorsese is executive producing a possible
Hollywood remake. This is the kind of film you suspect Scorsese would
admire. It is reported to be being written by Chris Rock sounds
interesting!

26

Kurosawa #3: Drunken Angel (Japan 1948)

Mifune (foreground) and Shimura in a scene with typical film noir

lighting effects producing a disturbed mise en scne
This is the film that many have argued put Kurosawa on the map. It was
his first personal film and the first film that he made with Mifune
Toshiro. Very much a film of the moment, it took a genuine social issue
from the streets of a devastated Tokyo and fashioned it into a cinematic
treatment, drawing upon the crime film/melodrama in a film noir mode
then popular in Hollywood, Britain and in Europe where similar stories
could be found in the rubble films of Germany (West and East) and the
neo-realist films of Italy. It was awarded No 1 film of the year inKinema
junpo magazine.
At the centre of the film is a crusading doctor, a local practitioner with an
office near the festering stagnant pool formed by a bomb crater at the
27

centre of a community living and working in ramshackle dwellings. The

doctors crusade is to save the locals from environmental and lifestyle
diseases such as TB. But Doctor Sanada (played by Kurosawas other go
to actor, Shimura Takeshi) has his own fatal weakness. Hes an alcoholic
forced to acquire medical alcohol from his colleagues or to visit the sleazy
drinking dens in the neighbourhood. One night a garishly dressed
hoodlum bursts into his surgery with a gun
wound and demands treatment. This is Matsunaga (Mifune), a local
gangster (yakuza) controlling the black market who turns out to have a
shadow on his lung.
There are many intriguing aspects of this film. Perhaps it doesnt all fit
together as
Yoshimoto Mitsuhiro argues. Watching it on a faulty Hong Kong disc was
quite difficult, but I was impressed nevertheless. Even more clearly than
in the earlierSugata Sanshiro films, Kurosawa presents his familiar
master/apprentice, older/younger male pairing. The doctor sees himself
in the young thug and in turn Matsunaga attacks the older man because
he knows that he is right and he cant bear it. The film works through
symbol and metaphor. The festering pool is both the source of real
disease (the mosquitoes that breed there) and a metaphor for the moral
and economic degradation of Japan. Sections of the narrative are
separated by long shots of a young man playing a guitar seen across the
pool in the moonlight. Objects are thrown into the pool. Garbage of
course, but also a doll, a flower etc.
The story by Kurosawa and his old school friend Uekusa Keinosuke
seems to me to be quite rich in the range of characters and their
interrelationships. There are more female roles than in some Kurosawa
films and this reflects the pressure by the Occupation authorities to
promote the new democratic rights for women which are mentioned in
the dialogue. Doctor Sanada has an assistant who lives in and she is the
28

wife of the local yakuza boss who abused her and who has been
imprisoned. When he returns, Sanada bravely tells him that his wife now
has the right to refuse him. The other three female characters are perhaps
generic types from the film noir crime genre. A bright and confident
schoolgirl, one of Sanadas patients, follows his advice and triumphs over
her TB infection a symbol of hope for the new Japan? Gin serves in a
local corner bar. She loves Matsunaga and in some ways represents the
traditional Japan, while Nanae is the typical femme fataleof the film noir
and a clear representation of the moral pollution which has arrived in
Tokyo via the Occupation. (The film appears to have had some constraints
in representing the Occupying forces directly.)
Perhaps the biggest strength of the film is also its biggest weakness
Mifunes performance. Kurosawa had seen Mifune at an audition for new
players to be contracted at Toho in 1946. He had supported Mifunes
selection then and cast him now as Matsunaga. Kurosawa has stated that
what astonished him about Mifunes performance skills was the sheer
energy and the swiftness of his movements and his thinking. This direct
style was well utilised by Kurosawa (although as he points out in his
autobiography, Mifune appeared in several films for other
directors before Drunken Angel). As the sick yakuza, Mifune is electrifying
and brilliant though Shimura is, audiences can be forgiven in thinking
that Mifunes is the central character. He too spends much of his time
drunk, but it is the doctor who is the drunken angel.
Heres an extract from the film. Its a nightclub sequence showing Mifune
as the gangster. At the end of the sequence, a typical Kurosawa wipe
takes us (very briefly) back to the surgery and Shimura as the doctor. At
the opening of the clip, Nanae dances with the yakuza boss. A drunken
Matsunaga (with his bandaged hand) then essays a terrifying jive with
one of the hapless bar girls. [This clip has since disappeared from
29

YouTube but Im leaving the analysis here until I can find something
else.]
The extract demonstrates the importance of music in the film it was the
first time that Kurosawa worked with Hayasaka Fumio. It also brings
together some of the visual elements that are so striking. Im not sure if
the song is the one for which Kurosawa himself wrote some of the lyrics. I
think it is, but Yoshimoto and Keiko McDonald seem slightly at odds on
this. McDonald gives a detailed reading of all the popular songs and
other musical references used in the film. Im fascinated by both the
music and the singer. Im reminded strongly of 1930s films, especially
from German and British musicals and melodramas there is something
of the stereotypical representation of the jungle in the performance and
the song here is indeed titled janguru bugi (Jungle Boogie) and
performed by Kasagi Shizuko. She was well-known at the time and this
was one of her more popular numbers. I think that this nightclub scene
could have come from various national cinemas at this time. China before
1949, India in the late 1940s and 1950s are just as likely as Hollywood.
In a later fight scene, Mifune appears reflected in three mirrors much as
Orson Welles at the end of Lady From Shanghai. The Welles scene was
also from 1948 Kurosawa was part of what was happening in global
cinema, not a copyist. I think that Drunken Angel is the first Kurosawa
film which seems thoroughly composed in terms of dramatic lighting
and camerawork.
The portrayal of the doctor and the weight of expectation of death from
disease is explored in at least three other Kurosawa films which would
make an interesting quartet Silent Duel, Ikuru and Red Beard. I havent
seen Silent Duel yet and its a while since I saw Red Beard, but certainly
its interesting to compare the Shimura roles in Drunken Angel and Ikuru.
Kurosawa began writing Drunken Angel at a time of despondency which
30

was visualised as the pool. The doctor is fighting to convince his patients
(i.e. Japan) that there is a future for them if they
change their ways and this is what happens for at least one of them. In
Ikuru the Shimura character dies from the disease hanging over him
but not before he transforms the neighbourhood.
References:
Kurosawa Akira (1982) Something Like an Autobiography, Vintage
McDonald Keiko (2006) Reading a Japanese Film: Cinema in Context,
University of Hawaii Yoshimoto Mitsuhiro (2000) Kurosawa: Film Studies
and Japanese Cinema, Duke University

31

Kurosawa #1: Sugata Sanshiro II (Japan, 1945)

The original poster (from Wiki Commons)

This is the earliest Kurosawa Ive managed to acquire (on a Hong Kong
DVD). The picture quality isnt too bad but the sound is poor and the
English subtitles very variable and sometimes incomprehensible. It was
Kurosawas third film overall, made in 1944 but released only three
months before the Japanese surrender at the same time as the writerdirector got married when cinemas in Tokyo were being bombed.
This sequel to Kurosawas first feature in 1943, that had been a hit for
PCL/Toho, is generally acknowledged to be the directors least successful
film. Yoshimoto Mitsuhiro (2000) suggests that is least satisfying
artistically and perhaps most overtly propagandistic. Its difficult to argue
with either observation. But there are several interesting points to
explore.
The story focuses on Sugata, a martial arts student training to be a master
in a school known as the Station. The schools master is said by some
commentators to be based on Kan Jigor (the man associated with the
transformation of traditional jujitsu or unarmed combat into the formal
sport of judo). The action is set in the 1880s in Tokyo/Yokahama. Sugata
(Fujita Susumu) is a strong but rather wayward young man who in the
first film must learn from his master that there will always be someone
physically stronger and that a successful fighter will use intelligence as
well as strength. He is thus able to defeat a dangerous enemy in combat.
The other main plot point is that Sugata turns down the love of a young
woman in order to pursue his studies.

32

In his autobiography, Kurosawa makes plain that he undertook making

the sequel only because he was ordered to do so by Toho and that he
needed the money. (He claims that he was paid around $3000 150
for the script and direction, but that he spent much of this on location.)
The fact that his heart wasnt in it perhaps explains why some of the
action sequences suffer badly in comparison with the earlier film which
had been praised for the innovative techniques used on what was
otherwise a conventional story. The other main problem with the film is
that it looks as though much of the original script never made it into the
final film perhaps simply because the budget was so low and
production generally was difficult in Japan in 1944. Certainly the attempt
to carry on the relationship with the lover spurned in the first film seems
perfunctory at best. Yoshimoto lists the film at 82 minutes my DVD says
81 minutes, i.e. about 79 mins at film speed.
sequence when Sugata watches the audience at the first fight between
two Americans
However, there are moments in the film where Kurosawas ability to
utilise a range of filmic techniques becomes evident. Two of these are
used in sequences now taken to be propagandistic. The story of the
sequel repeats the original formula. Sugata is still struggling with his
temper and the challenges that a martial arts would-be master must face.
At the beginning of the film he rescues a rickshaw runner from being
beaten by an American sailor and is later inveigled into watching and
then participating in a contest with an American boxing champion.
During these fights the baying crowd of Europeans at the American
embassy is shown in a distinctively Eisensteinian montage of close-ups of
European faces as a Japanese is defeated. What is puzzling here is how
Toho found so many Europeans as extras in 1944. An IMDB posting
suggests that they were neutrals (Turkish, Swedish?). Certainly these
33

crowd scenes are more striking than what is actually happening in the
ring which is partly the point, since the action is not worthy of being
entertaining and Sugata tries to stop the first contest because it is
derogatory towards the Japanese arts. The second example is more
subtle but relates to the first.
Part of the
from Sugata's viewpoint
The boxing ring
watches from the exit doors of the American embassy . . .
Sugata
spectators enjoy the defeat of the Japanese and the degradation of
'Japanese arts'
The martial arts master lays down three rules in his school no drinking
in the dojo(the schools fighting arena), no fighting without the masters
permission and no fighting as entertainment. Fighting the American
without permission breaks two rules and Sugata in his despair breaks
rule three. When the master arrives in thedojo, he doesnt mention the
discarded sake jug on the floor, but then proceeds to play a game of
keepy-uppy manipulating the jug with his foot, tossing it and turning
it in order to demonstrate moves. Kurosawa uses fast-cutting between the
masters dancing feet and Sugatas desperate looks to convey a subtle
message. Yoshimoto suggests that this is a propaganda message in
which a warrior is given permission to fight, not for his own glory but for
the good of the whole community (i.e. the school in the story, Japan in
1944). Kurosawa himself tells us in his autobiography that one of the
reasons that he was keen to marry in 1945 was to experience marriage
34

before the death of 100 million expected to take place if Japan

surrendered.
. . . while the

Genzaburo with wig and make-up is in the rear.

The sake jug sequence is matched by another scene in which the
transformation of a student is shown through a sequence of lapdissolves working as a time-lapse image, a technique used at least twice
more in the film. But such scenes only show up other desultory scenes
shot in MLS/LS against painted backdrops. However one feature of the
storys other main narrative strand deserves mention. This involves the
appearance of the two younger brothers of the man (Higaki) who was
defeated by Sugata in the first film. The younger of the two brothers is
depicted as mentally unbalanced and Kurosawa decided to utilise aspects
of noh theatre in his portrayal. The actor was made up with a white face
and dark (red) lips and given a long-haired wig and a branch of bamboo
grass to carry (another symbol). He moves in repeated quick runs and
lurches and the overall effect is at once comical and disturbing. This use
of noh devices recurs in several later films. (In a Criterion essay, Stephen
35

Prince suggests that his performance also references epilepsy which

Kurosawa himself had suffered.) The two
brothers are seeking revenge and they pose a challenge to the school
with their more brutal karate form of martial arts. (As I understand it, judo
depends on feints, throws and locks, whereas karate includes strikes
with the hands and feet.)
The main theme of the film is what interested Kurosawa most the
master-apprentice relationship and the sense of the younger man
learning from experience. This is picked up in the revenge plot when the
original Higaki brother returns, now a frail and ill man, but one who
recognises what he has learned through his fighting with Sugata.
Fujita Susumu went on to appear in later Kurosawa films and became a
well-known actor in
The younger Higaki brothers.
Japanese Cinema. Mori Masayuki who appears in a minor role as one of
the other students went on to become a major player with Kurosawa,
Mizoguchi and Ichikawa.

36

The Kurosawa Centenary in 2010

The international film community celebrates the centenary of important
directors on a regular basis, but only a handful of such celebrations reach
a wider audience. This years major subject is Kurosawa Akira (born 23
March 1910), who could reasonably claim to be the first globally
acknowledged master of cinema during the 1950s and early 1960s. In a
long film career of over 50 years he directed 30 features all of which
have been remembered and many of which have been screened again
somewhere this year not least on home DVD systems. Our own miniseason of Kurosawa films on the big screen kicks off in Bradford towards
the end of August. There will be just five films with possibly one or two
others elsewhere in the region, so Im hoping we can blog on a few more
and develop some ideas.

37

There are a number of reasons why Kurosawa remains important:

1. His career spanned several key periods in both Japanese and global
film history. He began work in 1936 under a form of apprenticeship in
the Japanese studio system, gradually developed an autonomous
position within Toho, established his own company and worked cooperatively with other directors, flirted with Hollywood and became in
effect a global film producer.
2. His career also spanned momentous changes in the social, economic
and political history of Japan crucial conjunctural events in his
filmmaking experiences.
3. With education and interests that covered both traditional Japanese
cultural achievements and the diversity of influences from elsewhere in
Asia, Europe and North America, Kurosawa became the centre of
problematic debates about his most Western status amongst Japanese
critics.
4. Outside Japan, Kurosawa joined Bergman, Fellini, Antonioni, Satyajit
Ray, Andrjez Wajda and a few others as central figures in the humanist art
cinema of the 1950s which dominated the new international film
market.
5. Like John Ford, the American director he so admired, Kurosawa had his
own stock company dominated by two very different actors, Shimura
Takashi and Mifune Toshiro.
6. Recently some critics have identified a homo-eroticism in many of
Kurosawas films and questions have been raised about the lack of major
female characters in his films certainly in comparison with other
Japanese masters such as Ozu, Mizoguchi and Naruse.
All too often, Kurosawa is tagged as an action director and associated with
the samurai movie. Although he certainly made several important
historical films with samurai warriors in central roles, he also made
several important contemporary films and in so doing, displayed a wide
38

knowledge of film styles and aesthetics, both Japanese and Western.

Well attempt to range across Kurosawas whole output.

39

AKIRA KUROSAWA
Being an artist means not having to avert ones eyes.
I like unformed characters. This may be because, no matter how old I get,
I am still unformed
myself.
The characters in my films try to live honestly and make the most of the
lives theyve been given. I believe you must live honestly and develop
your abilities to the full. People who do this are the real heroes.
Human beings share the same common problems. A film can only be
understood if it depicts these properly.
For me, filmmaking combines everything. Thats the reason Ive made
cinema my lifes work. In films, painting and literature, theatre and music
come together. But a film is still a film.
There is nothing that says more about its creator than the work itself.
There is something that might be called cinematic beauty. It can only be
expressed in a film, and it must be present for that film to be a moving
work. When it is very well expressed, one experiences a particularly deep
emotion while watching that film. I believe that it is this quality that
draws people to come and see a film, and that it is the hope of attaining
this quality that inspires the filmmaker to make his film in the first place.
With a good script a good director can produce a masterpiece; with the
same script a mediocre director can make a passable film. But with a bad
40

script even a good director cant possibly make a good film. For truly
cinematic expression, the camera and the microphone must be able to
cross both fire and water. That is what makes a real movie. The script must
be something that has the power to do this.
In order to write scripts, you must first study the great novels and
dramas of the world. You must consider why they are great. Where does
the emotion come from that you feel as you read them? What degree of
passion did the author have to have, what level of meticulousness did he
have to command, in order to portray the characters and events as he
did? You must read thoroughly, to the point where you can grasp all these
things. You must also see the great films. You must read
the great screenplays and study the film theories of the great directors. If
your goal is to become a film director, you must master screenwriting.
Ive forgotten who it was that said creation is memory. My own
experiences and the various things I have read remain in my memory
and become the basis upon which I create something new. I couldnt do
it out of nothing. For this reason, since the time I was a young man I have
always kept a notebook handy when I read a book. I write down my
reactions and what particularly moves me. I have stacks and stacks of
these college notebooks, and when I go off to write a script, these are
what I read. Somewhere they always provide me with a point of
breakthrough. Even for single lines of dialogue I have taken hints from
these notebooks. So what I want to say is, dont read books while lying
down in bed.

41

I suppose all of my films have a common theme. If I think about it,

though, the only theme I can think of is really a question: Why cant
people be happier together?
It is the power of memory that gives rise to the power of imagination.
Movie directors, or should I say people who create things, are very
greedy and they can never be satisfied. Thats why they keep on working.
Ive been able to work for so long because I think, Next time, Ill make
something good.'
A truly good movie is enjoyable too. Theres nothing complicated about
it.
What is Cinema? The answer to this question is no easy matter. Long ago
the Japanese novelist Shiga Naoya presented an essay written by his
grandchild as one of the most remarkable prose pieces of his time. He
had it published in a literary magazine. It was entitled My Dog, and ran
as follows: My dog resembles a bear; he also resembles a badger; he
also resembles a fox. . . . It proceeded to enumerate the dogs special
characteristics, comparing each one to yet another animal, developing
into a full list of the animal kingdom. However, the essay closed with,
But since hes a dog, he most resembles a dog. I remember bursting out
laughing when I read this essay, but it makes a serious point. Cinema
resembles so many other arts. If cinema has very literary characteristics, it
also has theatrical qualities, a philosophical side, attributes of painting
and sculpture and musical elements. But cinema is, in the final analysis,
cinema.

42

A good structure for a screenplay is that of the symphony, with its three
or four movements and differing tempos. Or one can use the Nob play
with its three-part structure: jo (introduction), ha (destruction) and kya
(haste). If you devote yourself fully to Noh and gain something good
from this, it will emerge naturally in your films. The Noh is a truly unique
art form that exists nowhere else in the world. I think the Kabuki, which
imitates it, is a sterile flower. But in a screenplay, I think the symphonic
structure is the easiest for people of today to understand.
I began writing scripts with two other people around 1940. Up until
then I wrote alone, and found that I had no difficulties. But in writing
alone there is a danger that your interpretation of another human being
will suffer from one-sidedness. If you write with two other people about
that human being, you get at least three different viewpoints on him, and
you can discuss the points on which you disagree. Also, the director has a
natural tendency to nudge the hero and the plot along into a pattern that
is the easiest one for him to direct. By writing with about two other
people, you can avoid this danger also.
Something that you should take particular notice of is the fact that the
best scripts have very few explanatory passages. Adding explanation to
the descriptive passages of a screenplay is the most dangerous trap you
can fall into. Its easy to explain the psychological state of a character at a
particular moment, but its very difficult to describe it through the
delicate nuances of action and dialogue. Yet it is not impossible. A great
deal about this can be learned from the study of the great plays, and I
believe the hard-boiled detective novels can also be very instructive.
During the shooting of a scene the directors eye has to catch even the
minutest detail. But this does not mean glaring concentratedly at the set.
43

While the cameras are rolling, I rarely look directly at the actors, but focus
my gaze somewhere else. By doing this I sense instantly when
something isnt right. Watching something does not mean fixing your
gaze on it, but being aware of it in a natural way. I believe this is what the
medieval Noh playwright and theorist Zeami meant by watching with a
detached gaze.'
I am often accused of being too exacting with sets and properties, of
having things made, just for the sake of authenticity, that will never
appear on camera. Even if I dont request this, my crew
does it for me anyway. The first Japanese director to demand authentic
sets and props was Mizoguchi Kenji, and the sets in his films are truly
superb. I learned a great deal about filmmaking from him, and the
making of sets is among the most important. The quality of the set
influences the quality of the actors performances. If the plan of a house
and the design of the rooms are done properly, the actors can move
about in them naturally. If I have to tell an actor, Dont think about where
this room is in relation to the rest of the house, that natural ease cannot
be achieved. For this reason, I have the sets made exactly like the real
thing. It restricts the shooting, but encourages that feeling of
authenticity.
When I begin to consider a film project, I always have in mind a number
of ideas that feel as if they would be the sort of thing Id like to film. From
among these one will suddenly germinate and begin to sprout; this will
be the one I grasp and develop. I have never taken on a project offered to
me by a producer or a production company. My films emerge from my
own desire to say a particular thing at a particular time. The root of any
film project for me is this inner need to express something. What
44

nurtures this root and makes it grow into a tree is the script. What makes
the tree bear flowers and fruit is the directing.
The films an audience really enjoys are the ones that were enjoyable in
the making. Yet pleasure in the work cant be achieved unless you know
you have put all of your strength into it and have done your best to make
it come alive. A film made in this spirit reveals the hearts of the crew.
Japan does not understand very well that one of its proudest cultural
achievements is in film.
I dont really like talking about my films. Everything I want to say is in
the film itself; for me to say anything more is, as the proverb goes, like
drawing legs on a picture of a snake. But from time to time an idea I
thought I had conveyed in the film does not seem to have been generally
understood. On these occasions I do feel an urge to talk about my work.
Nevertheless, I try not to. If what I have said in my film is true, someone
will understand.
When I begin to consider a film project, I always have in mind a number
of ideas that feel as if they would be the sort of thing Id like to film. From
among these one will suddenly germinate and begin to sprout; this will
be the one I grasp and develop. I have never taken on a project offered to
me by a producer or a production company. My films emerge from my
own desire to say a particular thing at a particular time. The root of any
film project for me is this inner need to express something. What
nurtures this root and makes it grow into a tree is the script. What makes
the tree bear flowers and fruit is the directing.

45

The films an audience really enjoys are the ones that were enjoyable in
the making. Yet pleasure in the work cant be achieved unless you know
you have put all of your strength into it and have done your best to make
it come alive. A film made in this spirit reveals the hearts of the crew.
Japan does not understand very well that one of its proudest cultural
achievements is in film.
I dont really like talking about my films. Everything I want to say is in
the film itself; for me to say anything more is, as the proverb goes, like
drawing legs on a picture of a snake. But from time to time an idea I
thought I had conveyed in the film does not seem to have been generally
understood. On these occasions I do feel an urge to talk about my work.
Nevertheless, I try not to.
If what I have said in my film is true, someone will understand.
I am a maker of films; films are my true medium. I think that to learn
what became of me after Rashomon the most reasonable procedure
would be to look for me in the characters in the films I made after
Rashomon. Although human beings are incapable of talking about
themselves with total honesty, it is much harder to avoid the truth while
pretending to be other people. They often reveal much about themselves
in a very straightforward way. I am certain that I did.

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