"Men are only men. That's why they lie. They can't tell the truth, even to themselves."
Release Year: 1950
Country: Japan
Genre: Psychological drama
Director: Akira Kurosawa
Screenwriter: Akira Kurosawa, Shigeki Hashimoto
Cinematography: Kazuo Miyagawa
Music: Fumio Hayasaka
Editing: Akira Kurosawa
Actors: Toshiro Mifune, Masayuki Mori, Machiko Kyo, Takashi Shimura
Country: Japan
Genre: Psychological drama
Director: Akira Kurosawa
Screenwriter: Akira Kurosawa, Shigeki Hashimoto
Cinematography: Kazuo Miyagawa
Music: Fumio Hayasaka
Editing: Akira Kurosawa
Actors: Toshiro Mifune, Masayuki Mori, Machiko Kyo, Takashi Shimura
One of the greatest movies of all-time.
The first Japanese movie to ever got massive international recognition, just a few years after the Hiroshima-Nagasaki nuclear bombing.
The pinnacle of black-and-white cinematography, art of story-telling, and cinema in general.
Yup, Rashomon is kind of special.
Adapted and developed from a couple of Ryunosuke Akutagawa's classic short stories (the setting from 'Rashomon' and the basic story concept from 'In A Grove'), the film's outer narrative frame takes form as a conversation between a commoner, (Kichijiro Ueda) a woodcutter (Shimura), and a priest (Minoru Chiaki); all are taking shelter from the rain under the gate of Rashomon. The woodcutter and the priest had just given testimonies in the court for a case involving a bandit (Mifune), a samurai (Mori), and the samurai's wife (Kyo), where the samurai is dead and the wife is (possibly) raped. The woodcutter recounts to the commoner the strange circumstances surrounding the case: there are four radically different testimonies, four different versions of what had happened and who is responsible for the tragedy, and absolutely no way to prove which one of them is the truth.
By far, the most famous aspect of Rashomon is its multiple-perspectives storytelling; a repeated narration of a single event with variations on each version, as seen and reiterated by multiple characters. The purpose of this approach is to highlight the central themes of both the film and the original story by Akutagawa; the nature of perception, manipulation of information to fulfill one's subjective desire, and the non-existence of an objective truth. It also touches upon morality of mankind, and the reason on why it is so easy for us to resort to lies and deception.
The way the narrative unfolds, we are presented with a set of facts:
~The bandit caught glimpses of the samurai and the samurai's wife in the middle of a forest
~The bandit was instantly attracted by the wife, and managed to subdue the samurai while in the process of romancing the wife
~The samurai is later found dead by the woodcutter, who was also the one to notify authorities
Afterward, the bandit and the samurai's wife were brought to the court, where the ensuing claims and contradictions in their testimonies naturally gave rise to lots of questions.
The brilliant thing is, Rashomon does not provide answer to those questions. We do not get to see what had really happened; the truth is too muddled up and there is no detective-type character to sort everything out. While this may sounds frustrating (when watching movies, we generally expect the movie to give a clear definite answer to the nature of its conflict), the movie does provide a closure in another way while still preserving the air of mystery and uncertainty that surrounds the whole thing. As emphasized by Kurosawa himself, the point of the story is not about the truth itself, but rather on how easily it can be bend and perceived subjectively to whatever reason (although it is certainly a lot of fun to speculate and develop theories on what really happened!).
The actors' performance is another a key part in enhancing the story, especially by Mifune, Mori, and Kyo, who played the three central figures in the mystery. They were demanded to apply subtle differences and variations to their character portrayals in each version of the story, while still maintaining the same basic characteristic. Mifune displayed the most showmanship by portraying the erratic and often over-the-top bandit, and Mori generates a lot of sympathy with his doomed character, but the best (and most difficult) performance comes from Kyo, who completely succeed in giving drastically different interpretations to the roles of her character.
In Kyo's hands, The Wife is a perfect question mark, easily the most interesting character and the hardest one to figure out.
The greatest joy in watching Rashomon to me is to spot differences in the multiple perspectives presented, to cross-check each character's perception of themselves and of others, and to try interpreting the motivation behind their claims and lies (for it is obvious that all of the characters had lied to certain extent, and none of the testimonies can be taken at face value). It is also a rare cinematic experience that keeps being rewarding on re-watches; there seems to always be a new piece to gorgeous scenery to goggle at, new narrative possibilities to consider, and new facial expression to interpret.
Either as a morality tale, an open-ended mystery, or a celebration of art, craft, and creative mind, Rashomon is an undisputed masterpiece born from one of the greatest film directors ever. An excellent treat for the eyes, ears, brain, and heart.
The first Japanese movie to ever got massive international recognition, just a few years after the Hiroshima-Nagasaki nuclear bombing.
The pinnacle of black-and-white cinematography, art of story-telling, and cinema in general.
Yup, Rashomon is kind of special.
Adapted and developed from a couple of Ryunosuke Akutagawa's classic short stories (the setting from 'Rashomon' and the basic story concept from 'In A Grove'), the film's outer narrative frame takes form as a conversation between a commoner, (Kichijiro Ueda) a woodcutter (Shimura), and a priest (Minoru Chiaki); all are taking shelter from the rain under the gate of Rashomon. The woodcutter and the priest had just given testimonies in the court for a case involving a bandit (Mifune), a samurai (Mori), and the samurai's wife (Kyo), where the samurai is dead and the wife is (possibly) raped. The woodcutter recounts to the commoner the strange circumstances surrounding the case: there are four radically different testimonies, four different versions of what had happened and who is responsible for the tragedy, and absolutely no way to prove which one of them is the truth.
By far, the most famous aspect of Rashomon is its multiple-perspectives storytelling; a repeated narration of a single event with variations on each version, as seen and reiterated by multiple characters. The purpose of this approach is to highlight the central themes of both the film and the original story by Akutagawa; the nature of perception, manipulation of information to fulfill one's subjective desire, and the non-existence of an objective truth. It also touches upon morality of mankind, and the reason on why it is so easy for us to resort to lies and deception.
The way the narrative unfolds, we are presented with a set of facts:
~The bandit caught glimpses of the samurai and the samurai's wife in the middle of a forest
~The bandit was instantly attracted by the wife, and managed to subdue the samurai while in the process of romancing the wife
~The samurai is later found dead by the woodcutter, who was also the one to notify authorities
Afterward, the bandit and the samurai's wife were brought to the court, where the ensuing claims and contradictions in their testimonies naturally gave rise to lots of questions.
The brilliant thing is, Rashomon does not provide answer to those questions. We do not get to see what had really happened; the truth is too muddled up and there is no detective-type character to sort everything out. While this may sounds frustrating (when watching movies, we generally expect the movie to give a clear definite answer to the nature of its conflict), the movie does provide a closure in another way while still preserving the air of mystery and uncertainty that surrounds the whole thing. As emphasized by Kurosawa himself, the point of the story is not about the truth itself, but rather on how easily it can be bend and perceived subjectively to whatever reason (although it is certainly a lot of fun to speculate and develop theories on what really happened!).
The actors' performance is another a key part in enhancing the story, especially by Mifune, Mori, and Kyo, who played the three central figures in the mystery. They were demanded to apply subtle differences and variations to their character portrayals in each version of the story, while still maintaining the same basic characteristic. Mifune displayed the most showmanship by portraying the erratic and often over-the-top bandit, and Mori generates a lot of sympathy with his doomed character, but the best (and most difficult) performance comes from Kyo, who completely succeed in giving drastically different interpretations to the roles of her character.
In Kyo's hands, The Wife is a perfect question mark, easily the most interesting character and the hardest one to figure out.
She transforms constantly as either an innocent and graceful lady...
a pitiful and helpless victim....
...a despicable traitor...
...or a manipulative temptress.
The rich narrative is complemented by a magnificent visual, courtesy of Kurosawa's vision and Kazuo Miyagawa's cinematography. Seriously, watching the film is like having a visual orgasm: the composition, texture, and lighting just blended so well and proved once and for all that you need neither color nor fancy technology in order to create a visual piece of art (heck, after watching this, I got the urge to go out and watch as much black-and-white films as possible. Screw 3D, this is the perfect eye candy to me). Accompanied by a booming score that punctuates the many suspenseful scenes, this movie has one terrific atmosphere to boot.
...a despicable traitor...
...or a manipulative temptress.
The greatest joy in watching Rashomon to me is to spot differences in the multiple perspectives presented, to cross-check each character's perception of themselves and of others, and to try interpreting the motivation behind their claims and lies (for it is obvious that all of the characters had lied to certain extent, and none of the testimonies can be taken at face value). It is also a rare cinematic experience that keeps being rewarding on re-watches; there seems to always be a new piece to gorgeous scenery to goggle at, new narrative possibilities to consider, and new facial expression to interpret.
Either as a morality tale, an open-ended mystery, or a celebration of art, craft, and creative mind, Rashomon is an undisputed masterpiece born from one of the greatest film directors ever. An excellent treat for the eyes, ears, brain, and heart.
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