As I was reading
this post at OverthinkingIt.com, it occurred to me that I was woefully unaware of the classic samurai pictures of Akira Kurosawa. I'd seen Seven Samurai once before, and knew it well enough to recognize that Perich was on to something magical by rewriting Star Wars Episode I, but that was it. I had always wanted to see Rashomon since it was one of the first movies to tell the same story from many different perspectives (a devise I rather enjoy), so I decided to see if the Netflix Watch Instantly menu included any of these movies.
I was pleased to discover they had not one or two, but five on hand. So while I still haven't seen Kurosawa's Shakespearean adaptations Throne of Blood or Ran, I can now say that I've seen a good share of the movies that inspired generations of American nerds to take Japanese in college.
One of the things I picked up on is how well made the movies are. Kurosawa had a knack for making his characters' personalities clear without making them one-dimensional or boring. He took time to reveal the identities of all seven samurai as they defend the villagers, and he built up the romantic B plot in a way that felt true. The use of swipes could have been choppy and annoying, but it never was (I hardly noticed it, actually).
I was also quite surprised at how good these actors are. Kurosawa uses four or five of the same actors in every one of his Samurai movies, it seems, but every time they come across as clear and distinct characters. I was particularly impressed by
Tatsuya Nakadai, who played two different principle soldier enemies against
Toshirô Mifune's character Sanjuro, and yet managed to keep the characters distinct; Unosuke is downright creepy in Yojimbo, while Muroto is scary but maintains a strange sense of dignity.
But what I really noticed was how Kurosawa portrays samurai. The samurai in Rashomon is not an admirable character, being upstaged by the common bandit Tajomaru (the samurai gets killed over and over in the retelling of the story, and I don't even remember his name). However, his pride and poise in adversity are starkly contrasted with many of the samurai in Seven Samurai. Heihachi joins the band because he is broke, Gorobei joins because he finds the leader (Kambei) an interesting character, and Kyuzo joins simply as an opportunity to hone his swordsmanship. Samurai seem to be a rag-tag lot in Kurosawa's mind.
The first truly noble samurai who demonstrates the power one would expect of the great heroes of Japanese legend is General Rokurota Makabe in The Hidden Fortress. Makabe is devoted to saving Princess Yuki, willing to give up his life or the lives of his loved ones to protect her. Although he manipulates the two peasants into helping them, Makabe is always honorable, even in how he treats the enemy General. Here, perhaps, is the ultimate picture of what a samurai should be... except Makabe begins the story as a failure. He has to rescue the princess precisely because he failed to defeat the invading army. And in the post-World War II age, perhaps that is how many Japanese saw the samurai and their culture: honorable, but defeated from the beginning.
Yet the most powerful expression of the samurai comes in the unnamed hero of Yojimbo and Sanjuro. Well, perhaps I shouldn't say unnamed. He gives his family name as Kuwabatake in the first film and Tsubaki in the second, in both cases simply picking the name of something he's looking at. In both he says his given name is Sanjuro, but this actually just means Thirty-something. He even says in the dialogue in both films "but I'm nearly forty." So he has a label for the sake of the movie, but it's quite clear that he's making it up.
Anyway, Sanjuro is a classic mercenary who follows a moral code. In the first movie, he destroys the gambling clans that are destroying the town purely by accident. During the opening credits he is a wandering ronin, and he chooses which path to follow by throwing a stick in the air and seeing which way it points when it lands. He makes just enough money to stay fed, and everything else he does seems to be for sport. He fights for the good guys when he can identify them (as in Sanjuro), but has no trouble stirring up trouble when it suits him. As the Chamberlain's wife says, he is like a naked sword: he cuts well, but often cuts when he should have stayed sheathed. "Killing people is a bad habit," she says to him, and he seems to agree. It doesn't stop him from continuing, though, as it wouldn't stop most people.
Maybe that's Kurosawa's message about samurai after all. Samurai can make a fascinating subject because of the drama and spectacle, but in the end they're just human beings like the rest of us.
(As a special bonus, I'm putting a video of Sanjuro's bad-assery below the jump.)