Rashomon

Kurosawa is the most incomparable director I know of. He and Kubrick are above and beyond all else, and Kurosawa is perhaps even above Kubrick. They are what I call the masters, the only two I would say that about. Clint Eastwood said that there are no experts in the movies, and I agree with him wholeheartedly, but every one of Kurosawa's movies is evidence to the contrary, and Rashomon is near the top of that elite list.

It is a literary work turned cinematic masterpiece. The basic premise is illusion and disillusion, false memory and the unreliability of the mind. Every one of the contrasting viewpoints is plausible, and I find myself wanting to believe each of them. There are no clear antagonists, which facilitates the conflict both of the viewer and the characters. Toshiro Mifune is the most likely candidate for a bad guy, and he's also the most entertaining. Therefore, he is the guy we might end up pulling for even though he is most likely the wrongdoer. This little trick is one miniscule example of Kurosawa's genius and his mastery. He was a painter before he was a filmmaker, and this trained both his eye and his patience. He is able to tell both large tales and small ones and he approaches each set-up, much less each film, with diligent artistry. He takes his time to tell his stories, and he tells them carefully when he does.

Rashomon was one of the first of his films I saw, and it opened my mind to new worlds and new beauty. His films are universal all the while being distinctly Japanese. I stole that last line from somebody, maybe it was in the HitchcockTruffaut book. Whoever said it, I owe you one. Kurosawa has entirely Japanese people in his film. There is no mistaking them, there can be no confusion. His people and words are often imperial, deep with history, and yet personal, modern, and approachable. Kurosawa makes samurais and thieves that are as reachable and familiar as the guys in Clerks but as rich as the Shakespearean.

Rashomon has many such characters, and they are combined and kneaded into a dough of cinematic wonder. They are baked at 375 degrees for 1_ hours and out comes a Japanese drama pie that can beguile any appetite, not merely a Japanese one. It is constructed and framed and executed and portrayed and photographed with the delicacy and vitality that is exclusively Akira Kurosawa.