Throne of Blood (1957)
When I first saw Throne of Blood as a teenager I was ill in bed with a fever. I found the brooding atmosphere and the use of fog, very hypnotic and was never quite sure if this ethereal quality was down to my state of health or the way the film had been crafted. Subsequent viewings have established that the dream like aspect of the film is indeed due to the creative talents of it's great director. Akira Kurosawa remains the best-known Japanese director to Western audiences, while other luminaries, such as Mikio Naruse, Yasujiro Ozu and Kenji Mizoguchi, are known mainly to aficionados and scholars of cinema. Kurosawa’s work maintains a critical consensus, although he was at one point rejected in his native country for being too entrenched in obsolete traditions and themes. On a technical level his film making credentials remain unparalleled and in many ways, Throne of Blood is a text book example of his style and technique.
When I first saw Throne of Blood as a teenager I was ill in bed with a fever. I found the brooding atmosphere and the use of fog, very hypnotic and was never quite sure if this ethereal quality was down to my state of health or the way the film had been crafted. Subsequent viewings have established that the dream like aspect of the film is indeed due to the creative talents of it's great director. Akira Kurosawa remains the best-known Japanese director to Western audiences, while other luminaries, such as Mikio Naruse, Yasujiro Ozu and Kenji Mizoguchi, are known mainly to aficionados and scholars of cinema. Kurosawa’s work maintains a critical consensus, although he was at one point rejected in his native country for being too entrenched in obsolete traditions and themes. On a technical level his film making credentials remain unparalleled and in many ways, Throne of Blood is a text book example of his style and technique.
The story focuses on Washizu and Miki, two captains that have just successfully suppressed a rebellion for their warlord Lord Tsuzuki. While riding through Cobweb Forest, they encounter an old woman who prophesies that Washizu will usurp castle, but that his reign will be brief, and his throne soon will be occupied by Miki's son. Both warriors initially laugh at these predictions, but there are soon indications that the prophesy may be true. When Washizu reveals his thoughts to his scheming wife Asaji, she urges him to take the initiative and kill Lord Tsuzuki who is to visit their home. Washizu subsequently murders his Lord and blames his bodyguards, thus usurping the throne. Yet he is plagued by guilt for betraying his honour and slowly descends into madness as he sees supernatural visions and portentous signs. However, despite concerns over his fitness to rule along with his increasing abuse of his power, Washizu has no intention of relinquishing his position.
This 1957 retelling of “the Scottish play” translates perfectly into 16th century feudal Japan. It retains much of the Shakespeare's brooding atmosphere and to this Kurosawa adds the formality and cultural intrigue of his native country. The adaptation omits most of the minor characters and transforms the witches' scenes into a supernatural encounter with an old woman spinning in a forest glade. Acted in the classic Kabuki tradition, the central performances, particularly that of Toshiro Mifune, are superb in spite of their economy of words. Intent and feelings are often conveyed by body language and deportment. The black and white cinematography, the imposing production design, striking costumes and jolting use of violence all work to create a sinister and esoteric world; an attitude still held about Japan by the West in the post war era. Kurosawa uses the camera masterfully, alternating between lengthy static takes and fluid tracking shots. There are many visually arresting scenes both big and small, such as Cobweb Forest slowly advancing towards the castle through a sea of fog as well as the sudden invasion of the throne room by a flock of birds.
Modern audiences may have to adjust their expectations, as Throne of Blood is made in the Noh drama style which relies on visual, non-verbal means convey characters feelings and the underlying mood. But it is the cultural differences of Japanese cinema that make this film so engaging, atmospheric and compelling. Along with its high contrast black and white photography, extraordinary images of rain, galloping horses, and highly charged performances. All of which contribute to an atmosphere of self-destructive inevitability for the tragic Captain Washizu. As for the ending, let it suffice to say that it is justifiably legendary and a visual triumph. As a piece of cinema, Throne of Blood goes beyond being a mere adaptation Shakespeare or even a Samurai movie. It remains a film making landmark and bastion of visual creativity, underpinned by a particularly Japanese sensibility. It is singularly thought provoking and stylish, and once seen it leaves an indelible impression.
Mifune: The Last Samurai (2016)
The documentary Mifune: The Last Samurai is both an exploration and celebration of the Japanese actor Toshiro Mifune (1920-1997), narrated by Keanu Reeves. Over the course of seventy minutes his life and body of work is critiqued by his industry peers as well as several cinematic luminaries such as Martin Scorsese and Steven Speilberg. The focus is very much upon the man himself, as his personality was integral to his acting technique. For those unfamiliar with classic Japanese cinema during its golden age, the documentary provides a broad and practical overview. It also includes a brief history of the chanbara (sword fighting) genre, as well as a concise and honest analysis of Mifune’s career.
The documentary Mifune: The Last Samurai is both an exploration and celebration of the Japanese actor Toshiro Mifune (1920-1997), narrated by Keanu Reeves. Over the course of seventy minutes his life and body of work is critiqued by his industry peers as well as several cinematic luminaries such as Martin Scorsese and Steven Speilberg. The focus is very much upon the man himself, as his personality was integral to his acting technique. For those unfamiliar with classic Japanese cinema during its golden age, the documentary provides a broad and practical overview. It also includes a brief history of the chanbara (sword fighting) genre, as well as a concise and honest analysis of Mifune’s career.
Writer and director, Steven Okazaki, talks to long time Mifune collaborators such as the actress Kyoko Kagawa and Kanzo Uni, a sword-fight choreographer and stunt co-ordinator. Uni claims that Mifune “killed” him on screen more than one hundred times. The actress Terumi Niki discusses how Toshiro Mifune coaxed and teased performances out of his co-stars during the filming of Red Beard and how he was a very generous actor. There are also some insightful anecdotes about Mifune’s youth and war experiences from his son, Shirô, that help explain the man’s temperament, strengths and vices. One actor describes Mifune star presence as the embodiment of perseverance but it is fair to say that melancholia is more appropriate for his personal life.
Mifune: The Last Samurai works best when it is focusing on the lifelong collaboration between Toshiro Mifune and writer/director Akira Kurosawa. It becomes very apparent from the interviews that the mutual respect between the two was immense, with the precise and exacting auteur director, trusting his lead implicitly and affording them a great deal of creative freedom. Mifune also had a strong sense of obligation to Kurosawa as he found fame and international stardom through his movies. Teruyo Nogami, Kurosawa’s regular script supervisor, recollects how the arrow ridden finale of Throne of Blood, was filmed under what would now be deemed hazardous conditions with the archers being mere college students and not particularly accurate shots. Yet Toshiro Mifune embraced the risk and used it to fuel his performance.
Mifune: The Last Samurai concentrates mainly on the chanbara movies that were an integral part of the actor’s enduring legacy. Sadly, the contemporary set, post war dramas such as The Bad Sleep Well and High and Low are somewhat ignored. Mifune’s later international success is also only briefly touched upon. It is clear that director Steven Okazaki, thinks that the main story of the actor’s life is his symbiotic relationship with Kurosawa. Although it does attempt to explain why the two artists drifted apart in their twilight years, one is left with the impression that perhaps the documentary is deliberately trying to perpetuate an enigma. In the end, it is Martin Scorsese’s conjecture, that sometimes artists that are bound this closely together “use each other up” is perhaps the most plausible explanation.
