Matt Cooper Films

Ran (1985) by Akira Kurosawa

Kurosawa relocates the drama of Shakespeare’s “King Lear” to feudal era Japan in this epic of betrayed loyalties and warring sons. Aging lord Hidetora (Tatsuya Nakadai) decides to resign his power to his eldest son, Taro (Akira Terao), gifting him the largest of his castles. His second son, Jiro (Jinpachi Nezu), is also to recieve a castle and lands, along with his youngest Saburo (Daisuke Ryu). While Taro and Jiro gracefully accept, Saburo opposes the plan, suggesting his father has lost his mind. He is exiled for his brazen honesty along with Tango (Masayuki Yui), a loyal retainer who agrees with Saburo. It is not long before Hidetora realizes his error, as his eldest sons banish him from their castles, flexing their newly granted authority. Hidetora finds himself wandering alone with his jester Kyoami (Peter), reluctant to call on his youngest son for help.

Akira Kurosawa is highly-regarded as the master of the historical action genre, with films such as “Seven Samurai” and “Yojimbo”. In “Ran” we see his directorial skill on full display with stunning vistas and set-pieces at every turn. The landscapes are beautifully shot and are a supporting character, reflecting the temperaments of the main cast. Kurosawa creates compositions that are works of art in their own right: characters backlit by the sunset or standing amongst wind-blown grass; soldiers marshalled in distinctive colours that reflect their lord’s personalities; and every facet of human emotion depicted powerfully through action and expression. The magnificent cast give theatrical performances, often over-emphasizing their reactions, but it works for the large-scale drama that is unfolding. The score by Toru Takemitsu is utilised efficiently, growing in intensity at moments of high tension, or drums bolstering the troops as they ride to battle. It is equally notable in its absence, with scenes played out in silence gaining in impact.

“Ran” feels like a very personal film for Kurosawa. Following his hey-day in the black-and-white film era, it seems as though he is out to prove himself by crafting a masterpiece on an epic scale. We see in Hidetora a man who is at the end of his career, wishing to retire in peace, and concerned for his legacy after misplacing his trust in his sons. Throughout the film, set in the late samurai period, we see guns viciously cutting down mounted samurai and archers, a nod to the notion that the march of progress can be a brutal affair, with older generations soon forgotten. No doubt Kurosawa was similiarly concerned with his formidable reputation being ignored as he entered the later stage of his career, and considering what his legacy would be. Another of the film’s central themes, one that was also close to Kurosawa’s heart, is the propensity to violence of mankind, and generational violence. The tragedy of Hidetora is that he is undone by his son’s in precisely the cruel, calculating way he dealt with his own foes. Their inheritance from him in cold, merciless, martial thinking, leads directly to his downfall. There are nods to religion, but not in an overbearing way, suggesting that there is an alternative peaceful path that people might take, averting the catastrophe of endless war. The idea of karma is also strong in the film, with Hidetora’s past actions catching up with him in his later years. One by one he comes into contact with those he has wronged in the past. Taro’s wife, Kaede (Mieko Harada), is herself the victim of one of his conquests; as is Jiro’s wife, Sue (Yoshiko Miyazaki), and her brother Tsurumaru (Mansai Nomura). He is haunted by the memory of what he has visited on others, even as the consequences of his actions begin to overwhelm him. A sublime film showing Kurosawa’s skill at dramatic storytelling and action set-pieces, this timeless classic secures his legacy for many generations to come.

Matt Cooper Films

The Hidden Fortress (1958) by Akira Kurosawa

Two lowly farmers conscripted into the army, Matashichi (Kamatari Fujiwara) and Tahei (Minoru Chiaki), are making their way home following a devastating defeat. After being captured by the enemy and escaping, they find themselves in a mountain region at a loss as the borders are being patrolled by the enemy. Their fortune changes when they discover a secret stash of gold, but their joy is short-lived when they encounter a man who turns out to be Rokurota Makabe (Toshiro Mifune), the general of the now fallen Akizuki clan. Makabe shows them to a hideout in the mountains where Princess Yuki (Misa Uehara) is sequestered, attempting to flee the country and rebuild her family’s fortunes in a foreign province. The pair are persuaded to join Makabe and the princess, with the promise of vast wealth from their secret stash of gold.

Directed by Akira Kurosawa, with a screenplay by Kurosawa, Ryuzo Kikushima, Hideo Oguni, and Shinobu Hashimoto, “The Hidden Fortress” is an action-packed samurai tale. With its slightly fantastical plot involving a horde of gold, a secret base, and the interplay of both the lowborn protagonists with their highborn compatriots, the film proivides one entertaining scenario after another, from our heroes multiple close calls with the enemy and their atttempts to escape capture, to Makabe’s duel with a rival samurai. The comedic performances of Fujiwara and Chiaki, whose bumbling, bickering farmers represent the common man are amusing and off-set the serious tone of Mifune’s loyal, stoic and calculating general. Misa Uehara, who is forced to act as a mute for large parts of the film, is perfect as the impetuous and imperious princess. The film balances the humour and tragedy, creating sympathetic characters, who play well off one another. Masaru Sato’s score provides the perfect accompaniment to the drama, from its inauspicious beginnings to a triumphant ending, with the various trials along the way.

“The Hidden Fortress” features a simple plot told from two perspectives, that of the farmers, who are attempting to get home and largely concerned with their own safety and worldly wealth; and the selfless general, whose sole intention is to preserve the royal line. Their conflicting worldviews can be seen as a broader social statement on the difference between rich and poor, the ruling and labouring classes. The film has a largely positive view of the noble Makabe; whose unwavering service to the princess comes before the vast hoard of gold they are transporting. His willingness to sacrifice himself in order to save others, and his intelligence in formulating a plan to get them safely into the neighbouring province, stand in stark contrast to the avaricious and inept farmers, with their selfish attempts to flee with as much gold as they can carry. However, the film rewards the two at the end, with Makabe acknowledging their help in enacting the plan, suggesting that despite the backgrounds of the characters, and apparent difference in their importance to society, all are capable of heroism, whether through large gestures or small.

Matt Cooper Films

Stray Dog (1949) by Akira Kurosawa

Toshiro Mifune and Takashi Shimura reunite (after working together in Kurosawa’s ‘Drunken Angel’) in this crime noir thriller as homicide detectives investigating multiple murders with a stolen police pistol. Detective Murakami (Mifune) fears his career may have reached a premature conclusion when his gun is stolen by a pickpocket. His boss Nakajima tasks him with finding the pistol, putting him in touch with forensic firearms officer Ichikawa. When the gun is used in a murder, Murakami is partnered with veteran detective Sato (Shimura) and the two attempt to recover the weapon before more harm is done. Murakami and Sato pound the summer streets of Tokyo in a desperate bid to find the stolen pistol and the killer.

“Stray Dog” again features the fantastic on-screen chemistry of Mifune and Shimura in this dark police procedural. Mifune is captivating as the fresh detective battling his sense of regret and responsibility at losing the gun used in the murders. The film builds tension asMurakami and Sato chase down leads and interrogate suspects through the murky Tokyo underworld. Director Kurosawa, who co-wrote the script with Ryuzo Kikushima, creates an oppressive noir atmosphere through characters struggling with the sweltering summer heat. An early sequence in which we see Murakami trailing through the udnerworld of Tokyo as he tries to find his pistol brings home to us the difficulty of his position as he finds closed mouths and suspects unwilling to talk. In this and a later baseball scene the film may have benefitted from tighter editing, but it draws us in to the detectives’ world of antagagonistic witnesses and suspicion, ramping up a sense of desperation as they are unable to move forward with the investigation. The two track eventually track down a chorusgirl, Harumi Namiki (Keiko Awaji), whose relationship with the gunman Yusa (Isao Kimura) creates further problems for the detectives. She is unwilling at first to give up information on her lover. The film builds sees the two chasing the killer through a thunderstorm and the pouring rain further heightens the dread atmosphere. Soundtrack by Fumiko Hayakawa.

Stray dog features incredible performances by the main cast and a thrilling police drama as we see the footwork and effort that goes in to cracking a case. In this post-war Japan, danger still lurks at every street corner and the fears and suspicions that run through the society create an atmosphere as oppressive as the Tokyo heat. Well worth a watch for fans of crime films with a solid case and the perfect partnership of Mifune and Shimura to follow it through.

Matt Cooper Films

I Live in Fear (1955) by Akira Kurosawa

Toshiro Mifune plays an aging foundry-owner at war with his family in this drama touching on post-war nuclear fears. Kiichi Nakajima (Mifune) is the patriarch of a large family, including a number of illegitimate children alongside three children with his wife. Worried about the prospect of a nuclear strike and the radioactive fallout, he has decided to sell-off the profitable foundry, the family business, to buy a farm in South America. This follows a previous attempt to build an underground bunker which cost them a great deal of money. The children take their father to family-court to have him ruled unfit to make this decision. Among the panel of judges is dentist Harada (Takashi Shimura) who has some sympathy with the elderly Nakajima’s concerns.

“I Live in Fear” deals with one of the gravest themes of the mid-twentieth century: the threat of nuclear war and the subsequent dangers of radioation. Toshiro Mifune gives an incredible performance, one which the entire film revolves around, as a man who is genuinely worried for his childrens’ futures and feels that he must do what he can to protect them. The supporting cast play off Mifune as the contradictory forces to his passionate beliefs. When we are first introduced to them it seems a simple case wherein the elderly Kiichi is suffering paranoid delusions and his more level-headed family are attempting to calm him, or at least prevent him making any rash decisions. However, as the plot moves forward we realise that they are motivated by self-interest, and are perhaps deluding themselves to an equal degree in their nonchalant attitude to nuclear war. Kurosawa’s direction and the masterful script by Kurosawa, Shinobu Hashimoto and Hideo Oguni, along with the incredibly cinematography by Asakazu Nakai and a score by Fumio Hayasaka, come together to create a powerful film that is full of incredible moments, capturing the family dynamics that play out as a microcosm of wider debates around the issue.

While focussing on an individual family, the film speaks to all people who share Kiichi’s concerns, and those who ignore them. A grand-scale scene at the end of the film, in which the foundry has burnt down and the characters move about the wreckage while startled passersby look on, recalls the devastation of war-time bombings, making clear to people that this is not some fantastical nightmare of the protagonist but something that can and may again happen. The film is a stern rebuke to those whose self-interest and material concerns blind them to the greater dangers faced by society. The beautifully framed final scene at the end of the movie hints at the crossroads between heaven and hell that humanity finds itself at. We hold the power to destroy all life on earth, but also the ability to look beyond terrestrial concerns and consider the future of our species. A startling film with an engaging central dialogue that is exceptionally acted.

Matt Cooper Films

Drunken Angel (1948) by Akira Kurosawa

A small-time mob boss runs into an ill-tempered doctor who pressures him to change his ways in this crime thriller. Doctor Sanada (Takashi Shimura) works as a doctor in a small town, helped by his asssistant Miyo (Chieko Nakakita), his heavy drinking and misanthropic manner masking a serious desire to help those in need. When a local gansgter, Matsunaga (Toshiro Mifune), arrives at his surgery the two immediately clash, neither willing to back down. When Matsunaga is later referred to Sanada for tuberculosis, the doctor attempts to help him, all the while scolding him for his ongoing criminal affiliations. Matsunaga’s troubles deepen with the reappearance of Okada (Reisaburo Yamamoto), an old mob boss recently released from prison, whose presence threatens Matsunaga’s own position.

Directed by Akira Kurosawa, with a script by Kurosawa and Keinousuke Uekusa, “Drunken Angel” is a small town crime film with a strong moral core. The initial confrontation between Sanada and Matsunaga perfectly sets up these two strong-willed characters, both dedicated to their own particular code of honour. Despite Sanada’s disgust at the actions of gangsters, he’s motivated by a desire to improve the lives of others, both physically and through advising them against the evils of criminality. This surrogate father-son relationship is at the heart of the drama and the performances of Takashi Shimura and Toshiro Mifune are delightfully characterful, entertaining in every scene they share. The narrative is straightforward, but with plenty of flavour provided by side-characters and subplots, such as Miyo and Okada’s past; and the plot to use Matsunaga in an ongoing gang war. The direction is simple yet effective, with dialogues between key players drawing us into their inner worlds, and some standout set pieces such as the club scene and a fight late in the film which sees character writhing in white paint. It is a film that doesn’t shy away from visual metaphor with a dirty pond in the town symbolising the ever-present danger of the gangs; and a nightmare sequence in which a feverish Matsunaga witnersses his own death. Early on we see Sanada warn children from drinking the water to prevent them catching diseases; in the same way that his repeated unheeded warnings to Matsunaga intend to steer him away from danger.

“Drunken Angel” is a simple character-driven narrative with incredible central performances that gets to the heart of the choice between good and evil and ambiguous morality of humans. Sanada is far from a perfect individual, but his core belief in curing people stands in stark contrast to the selfish nature of the gangsters. For Matsunaga’s part, his story plays out as a tragedy, with his fate pre-destined through his actions or inability to repent.