The Hidden Fortress

The Hidden Fortress is a great action comedy movie that puts all others to shame. It’s scandalous that today’s audiences have to tolerate clichéd Lethal Weapon-type dialogue and excessive explosions; this film shows that a director can do both well, along with the usual Akira Kurosawa theme of how does one act morally in an immoral world.

Is the ultimate goal profit or the greater good? Each character tries to discover this during the film.  Is the ultimate goal DVD sales, audience enjoyment, or greater a work that stands out as one of the greatest of all time?  Kurosawa accomplishes all three.

Action and comedy are perfectly balanced. When this film was made, Kurosawa had already proven his ability to conceive great action sequences, build suspense over the course of a film, create emotional close shots between characters, and manipulate light and shadow expertly. In this work, he displays that he can write and direct humourous comedy scenes. He also permits the audience to infer certain details, rather than dumbing down the plot to the lowest common denominator.

The story is told from the point of view of a hapless duo (Tahei and Matashichi) engender audience sympathy despite their crooked nature because of their hilarious exchanges. The protagonists continually argue with each other yet each is enitrely dependent on the other. Those scoundrels walk the line between complete cowardice, utter idiocy, and giddy greed. They move from one misadventure to another following a selfish quest to profit by any means necessary during an ongoing war.

I believe that Kurosawa pioneered the idea of screen wipes as a transition from one scene to another. Unlike George Lucas, he makes the wipe part of the scene, allowing the briefest snapshots (such as when the two jackanapes are pursued for stealing rice) to make the film more dynamic. The score suits the action beautifully. The scene when a mob of destitute prisoners of war escape and overwhelm the organized Samurai army is a great example of Kurosawa’s grand vision, as is the sword fight on horseback.

Tahei and Matashichi follow a general (Toshirô Mifune) and a princess through enemy lines, although they are unaware of their stature at the time. The beggars initially join the gang and face danger for the promise of gold but at the end receive self-satisfaction because they contributed to a good cause, despite the lack of reward.

This film should be screen at the Bloor Cinema; I think the audience would feel comfortable laughing at the many light-hearted moments. Although I complimented Mifune during a previous post for his great range, he seems to find a way to work the same laugh into every film. The Hidden Fortress is highly recommended (and totally ridiculous). ****

Red Beard

Akira Kurosawa’s last black and white film, Red Beard, follows a storyline similar to Bernard Émond’s La Donation. The themes are similar, although the Japanese work develops more slowly and is more lyrical. A doctor with aspirations of serving Japan’s royal court is sent to a small clinic in a poor village. Unlike Dr. Dion, who chose to accept a one month posting in Normétal, Dr. Yasumoto is tricked into reporting to the iconic Dr. Niide (a.k.a. “Red Beard”) and initially refuses the position. Over time, he comes to respect Red Beard, his pragmatic viewpoint, and his effective manner of dealing with patients.

The deliberate camera work is patient and affords many opportunities for symbolism. The backdrop for the opening credits is the rooftops of the clinic and the town, showing how society looks down on the poor. Kurosawa often lights the scene so the shadows of the doctors, nurses, and patients are visible. It’s as if their physical bodies are complemented by their spiritual souls. As he does in all of his films, the weather represents when the plot becomes complicated in addition to the conflict inside Dr. Yamoto. Snow falls to show when his conscience is clear.

Everyone in the film comes from a different background, some with skeletons - literally - in the closet. Everyone has a second chance to redeem themselves. Life may not be fair but one can only carry on and do their best. Red Beard’s devotion to the citizens of the small town convinces Dr. Yamoto to change his career path; although he understands that he will have no money and no honour, he still wishes to serve the poor. Seeing the progress of the ill patients inspires him to help more.

To me, the most memorable moment is when the doctors make a house call to a girls with syphilis. The family and neighbours refuse to send her to the clinic. Red Beard bluntly tells them: “A bad doctor can kill you. I won’t kill you but I will break some arms and legs.” The men subsequently step outside and the doctor gives the intransigent strangers a thorough beating to straighten them out. Then he orders his two interns to bandage the injured and find a cart to carry the seriously wounded to the clinic. “I might have gone too far,” Red Beard reflects.

The film develops characters slowly and consistently. There are comedic moments, emotional scenes, and even though it is not The Seven Samurai, a clever action sequence.  Similar to how Torn Curtain was the end of an amazing filmmaking partnership (Hitchcock and Hermann), Red Beard is the last time that Kurosawa worked with Toshirô Mifune. Mifune played so many iconic roles (the businessman, the beggar, the bandit) yet he always altered his performance so that he was not merely portraying an archetype. In this film, he could have made Red Beard the stereotypical mentor but his gruff but sensitive mannerism and steely eyes (Christian Bale could learn from this) shaped a truly memorable character.

Rashomon

What more can I say about Akira Kurosawa that I haven’t already discussed? Rashomon was another innovative masterpiece, building on the themes of his other works, like High and Low and The Seven Samurai. I was mildly astonished that I didn’t have any Kurosawa DVDs on my shelves when I got home. I was sure that I had purchased The Seven Samurai some time ago.

A body is discovered in the woods and three people - the accused, the victim’s wife, and the spirit of the dead man via a medium - recount different stories about what happen. The three tales may all be lies or they each might contain some element of the truth. A witness and a priest struggle to explain what happened to a bystander as they all seek shelter from a driving rainstorm.

Would it be a Kurosawa film if it weren’t in black and white? Nobody is entirely good or evil and everyone’s morals are drawn in shades of grey. The film remains tense although characters are merely retelling a story that occurred three days previously and the script combines action and comedy. Kurosawa balances tight closeups to show the emotions of each character with wide angle shots to convey the entire scene. The audience was entertained throughout the screening at the Bloor Cinema.

The priest is tremendously dismayed at what appears to be a failed marriage, a senseless rape, and a vicious murder. He is having trouble reconciling his studies with human nature. In feudal Japan, during desperate times, people stoop to contemptible levels. Regular citizens may condemn the bandits who torment them but they are willing to steal from each other in order to survive.

Nevertheless, while every soul has the capacity for evil, everyone can redeem themselves with their actions. The witness who had lied about the murder and stolen from the crime scene convinces the priest with a selfless act, depicted subtly by the director, at the conclusion of the film.

High and Low

Nothing blew up. Nobody fell off of a roof in Vienna. Numerous scenes unfolded without any dialogue. Yet Akira Kurosawa successfully crafted a film in 1963 that surpasses most modern action films.

The plot revolved around a kidnapping mystery, which was revealed gradually as the villain and his persistent police pursuers matched wits. Scenes with hardly any action were incredibly tense, as a result of the actors’ performances, the film’s pacing, and the simple score. There was a connection between the characters and the audience which made a two and half hour film fly by.

Kingo Gondo, played by Toshiro Mifune, was a wealthy industrialist who was attempting to take over the National Shoes company. His family lived in a luxurious house atop a hill; although they overlooked the city’s slums, there was no empathy for those who toiled below. Gondo prides himself as a tireless executive but it is only when everything is taken from him that he realizes what is really important in life.

Kurosawa’s steady head was critical throughout the film. The story needed to be filmed in black and white in order to juxtapose the decrepit slums with the house on the hill, the air-conditioned comfort of Gondo’s living room with the heat of the summer, and the unselfish act of the protagonist with the sheer evil of the kidnapper -- and the subtle, scheming evil of Gondo’s boardroom colleagues. Colour would have cheapened the contrast and unnecessary music would have clouded the rudimentary soundtrack.

A kidnapper snatches Gondo’s son, only to discover later that it is the chauffeur’s child. The ransom demand would ruin Gondo and he must choose his priorities: save a life and send his family down to the slums or take over the shoe company and acquire greater wealth. During the decision process, blocking highlights Gondo’s insecurities as other characters turn their back to him and remain still. Mifune shows a wide range of emotions and turns Gondo from a despicable corporate figure to a caring family man.

In business life, Gondo would open the doors of his mansion and gaze down at the bustling city. The chaos of a million bustling lives, totally removed from him, seemed to provide solace. After paying the ransom, Gondo begins to take pride in common tasks, such as mowing the lawn in the scorching heat. He loses his house and position but is happy to be president of a small shoe company trying to expand.

High and Low is named after the Japanese term for heaven and hell. The city is a metaphor for these two places: a cool, comfortable house filled with beautiful people above a searing hot, filthy garbage dump filled with drug addicts and criminals. Only an individual, who makes his own decisions, can successfully navigate between the two worlds. Gondo may have lost his visual perspective overlooking the city but he gained a new moral perspective.

Whether Gondo is right is of no consequence. The value of a human life remains highly subjective: the son of a middle-class chauffeur is saved but three drug addicts die and a criminal receives the death sentence. The newspapers are sympathetic to the plight of a wealthy man but shed no tears for the countless victims who live in “Dope Alley.” Gondo realizes that he can’t live life alone but he still chooses with whom he will socialize. The detective takes more satisfaction in outsmarting the kidnapper than preventing the loss of more life. Reality is not black and white but a grey area that evolves constantly.