| Collector's Corner July 2002
 RashomonStarring: Toshiro Mifune, Machiko
Kyo, Masayuki Mori, Takashi Shimura, Minoru Chiaki, Kichijiro Ueda, Fumiko Honma, Daisuke
Kato
Directed by: Akira Kurosawa
Theatrical release: 1950
DVD release: 2002
Video: Original Aspect Ratio (1.33:1)
Sound: Mono (Japanese with optional
subtitles, dubbed English soundtrack)
It’s all true and none of it is true.
-- Robert Altman
As the film opens, we are in a hammering rain.
Two men, The Woodcutter (Shimura) and The Priest (Chiaki) are gathering for shelter from
the storm under Kyoto’s Rashomon Gate. They are somber. In runs The Commoner (Ueda).
As they begin to talk, The Woodcutter and The Priest tell the sad story of a trial they
attended in the city. A man is dead; his wife raped. They recount the testimony of The
Bandit (Mifune), The Woman (Kyo), and through The Medium (Honma), the testimony of The Man
(Mori). Though all of the witnesses tell a different story, it seems unlikely any are
lying because they all claim to have been the killer. After they tell the story to The
Commoner, he discerns there may be more than has been told. We then hear a fourth version
of the "facts." Which is true? And, as in any thoughtful investigation of the
human condition, what do the interpretations say about the characters and, by extension,
about us as persons.
Rashomon was Akira Kurosawa’s breakthrough
film, and his first to garner a Western audience. It almost wasn’t released. The
company that was financing the film thought it too difficult to understand, plus the topic
of rape and murder seemed too controversial. Kurosawa talks at length about Rashomon
in his memoir, "Something like an Autobiography," from 1982. His writers
didn’t like it because they said we never find out whodunit. Kurosawa stuck to his
guns, pushing for a story that illuminated the human condition rather than one that simply
told us who the murderer is. He tells us in his memoir that "human beings are unable
to be honest with themselves about themselves" and "they cannot talk about
themselves without embellishing." What he tells us through his film is an even
greater truth. While the casual viewer might see people telling tangential truths to
further their incongruent self-images, I think the film offers so much more. I won’t
give away the story’s conclusion, but, to my eyes, it offers one of the most
beautiful endings in film. An ending where humanity, warts and all, emerges redeemed. Not
through any diminution of the body-blows we’ve artfully received from Kurosawa’s
view of our foibles, but through acts. One of the first tenets of evaluating your fellow
human is to trust actions over words. Kurosawa takes us on a roller-coaster ride through
our weak words, and then finishes us with our noble actions. Don’t get the idea this
is a happy, tacked-on ending. Rashomon gawks at our worst parts, and still grasps
the redemptive power of a generous act. The ending gains enormous power from that
unblinking gaze into the dark side.
Kurosawa secures enormous visual power from the work of
cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa. In one of the many outstanding extras offered by The
Criterion Collection, we have the opportunity to see and hear Robert Altman discuss how
Miyagawa’s camera shots of the sun, filtered through the leaves of a forest,
influenced his work. Kurosawa’s decision to separate the flashbacks from the present
through the use of rain created havoc for Miyagawa’s shots, especially given the
Rashomon Gate’s light-gray coloring in the black-and-white photography. His creative
solution was to dye the rainwater by pouring black tint into the rain machine. His
greatest effect was in the flashback scenes. The beautiful mottled look he achieved was
impossible with natural light, even at noon on a clear day. His solution was to abscond
with some dressing mirrors from the wardrobe department and bounce light through the
trees. Flip to chapter 2 to see how beautiful and otherworldly this effect is. Miyagawa, a
veteran of over 120 films, said this was the single best lighting effect he ever created.
Rashomon’s actors are uniformly wonderful. But
heed this warning: Kurosawa loved the intense emotions of silent films. In Rashomon,
he encouraged his actors to go over the top, and they do. This is not a normal Japanese
trait, so you can be sure that the 1950 Japanese audience was just as bamboozled as you
will be getting used to the style. Once into the film, it makes superb sense. Also, the
testimony scenes are shot without ever showing the judge. In my opinion, this was done
purposefully, to make us feel as though the witnesses were appealing directly to us, the
audience. Once you get used to these two quirks, you will be able to enjoy the fine
acting. Toshiro Mifune worked with Kurosawa 16 times. Known mostly for his action roles,
he could still be quite understated. Rashomon provides the perfect display of his
art. As four different people describe his behavior, he must make subtle changes in his
actions and mannerisms. Watch especially the difference in the fight scenes between the
witnesses.
Machiko Kyo nearly steals the show. Her makeup and demeanor
will be odd to North Americans, but no one can miss her profound skill. If Kyo nearly
steals the show, Takashi Shimura succeeds; a man of immense nobility, no matter how he is
dressed. Once you see the ending, you will understand my affection for his portrayal of
The Woodcutter. What a shame that most Americans only know him as the kindhearted Dr.
Kyohei Yamane from Godzilla. Finally, Fumiko Honma, as The Medium that channels The
Man’s story, is electrifying, writhing around like a possessed person in the throes
of death.
Rashomon has had a huge influence on Western
filmmakers. Movies ranging from the sublime (The Usual Suspects)
to the execrable (One
Night at McCool’s) have copied devices from Kurosawa’s story. There is
also an example of influence where the master and teacher influence each other. Kurosawa
was a great fan of John Ford. When interviewers would ask Kurosawa about his famous action
films, he would always give credit to Ford’s sense of pacing, visual beauty, and
ability to sell a story. By 1962, Ford returned the honor by using the Rashomon
technique of retelling a story through multiple views in his autumnal classic, The Man Who Shot
Liberty Valance.
In terms of the DVD itself, I consider it one of the finest
uses of the medium I own. Visually, this is the single best version extant, certainly
better than what is showing at your local art house. Criterion has invested a substantial
amount of money in cleaning the master and recording it so that every subtle grayscale
detail shows up. The mono sound, never great to start with, is as good as it’s going
to get.
Criterion really scores on the extras. Author and film
historian Donald Richie’s commentary is a model, approaching the best I’ve heard
(Roger Ebert’s commentary to Citizen
Kane carries that encomium). Criterion also gives us excerpts from a documentary
about cinematographer Miyagawa and the theatrical trailer. My favorite extra comes in the
form of the 28-page booklet that accompanies the DVD. It contains a wonderful essay by
Stephen Prince, an excerpt from Kurosawa’s autobiography that concerns his thoughts
and memories of Rashomon, and the two short stories that served as inspiration for
the film. I only wish that other film companies (Twentieth Century Fox, please hear the
hint) would lavish this kind of attention on their important releases.
Kurosawa directed 24 films, the last at age 83. He
developed a reputation as being mentally unstable in the mid 1960s, and watched his career
die. He eventually tried to commit suicide in the early 1970s. Lots of people felt sorry
for him, but no one tried to get him a job until 1980, when Martin Scorsese and George
Lucas pushed their substantial weight around and revived Kurosawa’s career. By this
time, he was 70 years old. He was still able to knock out five more films, two of which (Ran,
Kagemusha) are masterpieces. He died in 1998 at the age of 88. We owe The Criterion
Collection a debt of gratitude for resurrecting Rashomon with an extra helping of
the quality and attention to detail we’ve come to expect from them. Kurosawa deserves
no less.
...Wes Marshall
wesm@hometheatersound.com |
