A Mind-blowing Work of Staggering Genius OR Why Kurosawa kicks ass

...with due apologies to Dave Eggers

I’m as nutty as a fruitcake when it comes to Kurosawa’s movies, so kindly indulge me in my hyperbole. This is more a write-up on Kurosawa’s oeuvre rather than any particular film. I’ve used instances in certain of his films as examples though. This turned out to be rather longish despite my most earnest efforts, so we’ll relegate more elaborate discussions on specific films of his to the comments section. So without further ado…

Two things (and the concomitant synergies) going for Kurosawa: master story-telling and brilliant technique. But we’re so used to speech or even sound effects in movies that long stretches of film without either can kick in boredom. (Was it Kubrick who refused to comment on ‘2001…’ saying something about not wanting to take away from what the camera was saying?). The key to enjoying Kurosawa’s body of work then is to think of visuals as a substitute for dialogue. Especially when he gives you so much time to soak in everything in a particular frame. It’s like he knew beforehand exactly what he wanted in each frame of the film. I have probably said this before, but his shot compositions have almost a mathematical precision to them. You can actually count the number of frames in some of his movies. Rashomon, for instance, opens with the camera zooming in on a dilapidated temple and two people taking refuge there from the rain, all done in 4 frames. And the B&W scenes are so sharp they crackle. Rashomon also has a fantastic 3-4-min-long scene of (Takashi) Shimura’s character ambling down a forest trail with the camera occasionally peeking up at the sun from under the forest’s canopy.

I also adore the subtle ways in which Kurosawa shows the oppressiveness of Japan’s climes. Both Yojimbo and Rashomon have gorgeous shots of rain pelting down so hard and rhythmically, it is palpable. And in ‘Stray Dog’, all that Kurosawa uses to give us an indication of a hot and humid Tokyo(?) is Shimura’s character incessantly wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief. Halfway into the movie, the heat starts to get onto your nerves too.

Enough about technique. Moving on to the story-telling, for me at least, his movies are utterly engrossing. I didn’t even realize Seven Samurai was that long (about 200 minutes). It had me so hooked! From the despicably pathetic lot of the farmers to marshalling the rag-tag samurai army to planning and strategizing the attack against the bandits. And the climax. Did I mention the climax!
In the very minimalistic Rashomon (there are about 8 characters in all), he uses the story-told-from-multiple perspectives ploy to describe a murder in a forest clearing. We feel much like the bum prodding the woodcutter to continue with the story. No two versions of the story match, with each narrator distorting it to suit his/her needs but also confessing to the crime. The ‘true’ series of events is never revealed, leaving us to mull over the human condition. A naïve priest whose faith in the inherent goodness of man is shaken to the core and an amoral, street-smart bum add to the interesting line-up of characters.
Yojimbo tells the story of a ronin living by his wits in the thick of a gang-war between two gambling clans in a village. And you know what? It’s the best western I ever saw! A very well-knit plot with smart moves and countermoves. And there is even a gorgeous leaf-caught-in-the-wind scene!

And almost all of his movies are peppered with this very enjoyable, often subtle, slice-of-life kind of humor. For instance, in Seven Samurai, the day after the rookie samurai sleeps with a farmer’s daughter, Shimura’s character goes “he’s a man now” and everybody breaks into a laugh. Or the wry wit of the opening scene in Yojimbo, when (Toshiro) Mifune – a wandering Ronin – decides his direction at a fork in the road after throwing a twig in the air and seeing which way it points when it lands. Or the way Mifune and the bar-keep in Yojimbo snigger as they watch from behind a window (with the camera behind them) the village official’s elaborate bribe-taking ritual. Or the hilarious (to me at least) court sequences in Rashomon (each character narrates his/her version of the story to the camera) with the narrating character at the centre of the frame and the other two sitting meek and cross-legged in the background to the right of the frame.

So there you have it – why I love Kurosawa’s movies. My favorites are: Rashomon, Yojimbo, Ran and Seven Samurai (in random order...can’t seem to find it in me to rank them :)…)