I must confess that my first acquaintance with the subject
matter of Akira Kurosawa's 1950 classic Rashomon came not
from the film itself, but from the 1964 American adaptation, The
Outrage. This was unfortunate, because that early experience had
something of a retarding effect on my appreciation of what Kurosawa had done
when I finally did get to see the original. The Outrage, set
in the 19th century American west, was culturally familiar. The
cultural idiom of Rashomon, especially its acting, was
unfamiliar at best, if not completely alien. It was a cultural ignorance that
took a number of viewings over the years to overcome, but since great art given
the chance will make its greatness felt, it was an ignorance that didn't last.
Watching it now in a 2008 restoration on DVD from the
Criterion Collection, it is hard to believe that there was a time when I didn't
appreciate Kurosawa's brilliance. From its intellectually challenging script,
its innovative use of the camera, its stylized performances, and its aesthetic
play of light and shadow, Rashomon is a virtuoso
performance.
Based on two stories, "Rashomon" and "In a
Grove," by Ryuwanosuke Akutaga, the film tells the story of a rape and
murder from four different points of view. A Samurai warrior and his wife
traveling in an isolated wooded area are accosted by a bandit. He overcomes the
warrior and rapes the woman. There is a
fight and the husband is killed. What happens after that is subject to the
interpretation of each of the people involved (the dead husband speaks through
a medium) as well as a wood cutter who chanced across the scene and watched in
hiding. Each has a different version of the events. If one of these is the
'true' narrative, there is no indication. In the end, the viewer is left with
the understanding that truth in this case, perhaps in all cases, is unknowable.
It is a bleak vision of the human condition emphasized from
the very beginning with its shots of the wrecked Rashomon gate drenched in a
terrific rain storm as the wood cutter and a priest sit in dismay in the
aftermath of the bandit's trial. The woodcutter goes on to tell the story to a
newcomer who shows up to get out of the storm. This, of course, removes the
story one more step from the actual event, and raises even more questions about
the nature of truth .
The scene then shifts to the woodcutter in a sun drenched
woods as he walks axe on shoulder only to discover first a woman's hat, then
the hat of a Samurai, and eventually the body. The camera follows the
woodcutter in a lengthy dolly shot as he treks through the foliage, spots of
bright sunshine, deep shadows; it is a setting that seems poetically symbolic.
Add to this a score that at times builds with the intensity of Ravel's "Bolero"
and the scene takes on a sense of portentous dread. There is an interesting
explanation of how the scene was shot in some excerpts from the documentary
The World of Kazuo Miyagawa, Kurosawa's cinematographer
which is included as bonus material on the DVD.
The excerpt ends with Kurosawa saying that it is the camera that
has "the starring role" in the film. Indeed, there is something
paradoxical about its visual ambience. Its black and white simplicity belies
the inherent opacity of its narrative. Indeed the stylized acting does much the
same thing. Nothing is as simple as it seems it should be. It is an interesting
juxtaposition of form and content that mirrors
the film's themes.
As usual with the films in the Criterion Collection there is
an abundant selection of bonus material. Besides the excerpts from the Miyagawa
documentary, there is a short interview with director Robert Altman, an hour
long documentary with members of the crew and cast called A Testimony
as Image, a radio interview with Takashi Shimura who played the
woodcutter, the original and a re-release trailers, and audio commentary by
film historian Donald Richie. There is also a booklet which includes an essay
by Stephen Prince, an excerpt from Kurosawa's Something Like an
Autobiography, and translations of the two Akutagawa stories.
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