At the core of this movie there is a long running philosophical question. Certain characters continually question what is happening around them, and through these questions, the themes of the movie are forthcoming. The most obvious theme is that of war. Here, once again, Kurosawa reminds us that modern warfare is not a place of honour or duels, but massed attacks on faceless enemies, shooting each other from a distance. I will discuss the battle scenes later in this review; they help us examine the chaos that is again consistent throughout the film. It seems that no one in this movie has any control over the events that are transpiring; not even the ultimate manipulator Mieko Harada as Lady Kaede has true control. This lack of control seems to mirror the idea put forward by the only character who is continually able to tell the truth without ramification. Shinnosuke Ikehata (credited here as Peter) is the fool who says 'Are there no gods... no Buddha? If you exist, hear me. You are mischievous and cruel! Are you so bored up there you must crush us like ants? Is it such fun to see men weep?' Even if god exists then the only pleasure he enjoys is watching mankind destroy itself in the chaotic mess that is war. The final scenes see chaos erupt, as through the good natured actions of one man, 4 armies are dragged into a bloody battle. Which leads us to the idea of futility and death. The pointlessness of life is summed up once again by the fool. 'Man is born crying. When he has cried enough, he dies.' Death comes to us all, yet it is far bleaker than that. If there is a god then they allow everyone to suffer. Even a noble character, like Saburo, dies an ignoble and futile death. Everyone within this movie is both hunter and hunted. It is a bleak world indeed.
Then we have morality. There are very few 'good' characters here, but there are three exceptions to this. Saburo, Lord Hidetora's third and youngest son, who because of his love and loyalty to his father is unable to not speak out at the foolishness he sees around him, which leads to his banishment. Tango, a loyal servant to Lord Hidetora who is banished with Saburo, but through love for his lord disguises himself so as to stay near him. Finally there is Kyoami, the fool. He again is loyal to his Lord, however, he voices ideas of leaving his side numerous times, but again his sense of duty and even affection keep him with his master.
The movie itself is near perfect. Stylistically it is almost like watching a play. Both the staging and the style of acting are clearly very influenced by Japanese Noh theatre, with the slow and deliberate style of acting used, and the mask-like appearance of age notable in the make up of Nakadai as the seventy year old Hiderota. Every shot looks like a masterpiece, perfectly framed. Kurosawa trained as an artist, indeed he painted the storyboard for every shot in the film. The framing is perfect and in most senses the camera does not move at all, or if it does, it is simply to keep the perfection of the shot intact.
Kurosawa was a master film maker, this is clear throughout. His confidence with film is breathtaking: only a director totally sure in his craft would dare leave the long, motionless pauses at the end of almost every scene, punctuating what has just happened and allowing the audience to grasp the full implication of the actions taking place.
Kurosawa is, of course, well known for his ability to direct action, and this movie recreates war in a way few others have ever managed to do. There are two great battles here, one in the middle and one during the end. The final battle is perfectly staged, riveting, and speaks volumes of the futility that the lust and pride of Jiro Masatoras, Hiderotas second son (played by Jinpachi Nezu) has led to. But for me it is the first battle that is the one of the greatest moments in cinema. Due to council given by a traitor, Lord Hidetora has led his household, which includes 30 warriors, to the castle of the outcast Saburo. It is a trap, and Taro Takatora (Akira Terao), his first son and Jiro strike. What follows is horrific. This is the purist language of movie, and a thing of true genius. On the battlefield, even in the world of the Samurai, there is no honour, no real glory, only ugliness and death.
It is interesting to note that seeing someone actually kill another person in this movie is rare. Considering the acclaim Kurosawa has garnered for the sword fighting sequences in so many of his movies it is interesting to note that not once do you see a sword kill another person on screen. Indeed, there are only two times we really witness one person attacking and killing another, other than mutual suicide. The first is entirely shown at a massive distance, the figures barely distinguishable, and the second, despite being amazingly gory, does not actually show the death itself on camera.
Yet with all of this emphasis on framing, shot, symbolism and colour, Kurosawa manages to bring to the screen some of the greatest performances I think I have ever witnessed. I have to cut short my praise of what is a faultless cast and talk about Mieko Harada giving perhaps the finest performance in the movie. Driven by anger and vengeance she becomes something other than human, she is some kind of succubus, a temptress, a fox-spirit. Harada is at all times compelling, her every movement one of cold perfection and as we hear her silk robes rustling as she glides along the wooden floors we see before us an unforgettable creation of pure evil.
Then we have morality. There are very few 'good' characters here, but there are three exceptions to this. Saburo, Lord Hidetora's third and youngest son, who because of his love and loyalty to his father is unable to not speak out at the foolishness he sees around him, which leads to his banishment. Tango, a loyal servant to Lord Hidetora who is banished with Saburo, but through love for his lord disguises himself so as to stay near him. Finally there is Kyoami, the fool. He again is loyal to his Lord, however, he voices ideas of leaving his side numerous times, but again his sense of duty and even affection keep him with his master.
The movie itself is near perfect. Stylistically it is almost like watching a play. Both the staging and the style of acting are clearly very influenced by Japanese Noh theatre, with the slow and deliberate style of acting used, and the mask-like appearance of age notable in the make up of Nakadai as the seventy year old Hiderota. Every shot looks like a masterpiece, perfectly framed. Kurosawa trained as an artist, indeed he painted the storyboard for every shot in the film. The framing is perfect and in most senses the camera does not move at all, or if it does, it is simply to keep the perfection of the shot intact.
Kurosawa was a master film maker, this is clear throughout. His confidence with film is breathtaking: only a director totally sure in his craft would dare leave the long, motionless pauses at the end of almost every scene, punctuating what has just happened and allowing the audience to grasp the full implication of the actions taking place.
Kurosawa is, of course, well known for his ability to direct action, and this movie recreates war in a way few others have ever managed to do. There are two great battles here, one in the middle and one during the end. The final battle is perfectly staged, riveting, and speaks volumes of the futility that the lust and pride of Jiro Masatoras, Hiderotas second son (played by Jinpachi Nezu) has led to. But for me it is the first battle that is the one of the greatest moments in cinema. Due to council given by a traitor, Lord Hidetora has led his household, which includes 30 warriors, to the castle of the outcast Saburo. It is a trap, and Taro Takatora (Akira Terao), his first son and Jiro strike. What follows is horrific. This is the purist language of movie, and a thing of true genius. On the battlefield, even in the world of the Samurai, there is no honour, no real glory, only ugliness and death.
It is interesting to note that seeing someone actually kill another person in this movie is rare. Considering the acclaim Kurosawa has garnered for the sword fighting sequences in so many of his movies it is interesting to note that not once do you see a sword kill another person on screen. Indeed, there are only two times we really witness one person attacking and killing another, other than mutual suicide. The first is entirely shown at a massive distance, the figures barely distinguishable, and the second, despite being amazingly gory, does not actually show the death itself on camera.
Yet with all of this emphasis on framing, shot, symbolism and colour, Kurosawa manages to bring to the screen some of the greatest performances I think I have ever witnessed. I have to cut short my praise of what is a faultless cast and talk about Mieko Harada giving perhaps the finest performance in the movie. Driven by anger and vengeance she becomes something other than human, she is some kind of succubus, a temptress, a fox-spirit. Harada is at all times compelling, her every movement one of cold perfection and as we hear her silk robes rustling as she glides along the wooden floors we see before us an unforgettable creation of pure evil.