Akira Kurosawa’s Rashomon

Homer Simpson: Aw Marge, why do we hafta go to Japan?
Marge Simpson: You liked Rashomon.
Homer: That’s not how I remember it.

So, remember when I talked about how Ninja Scroll blew everyone’s mind when it came out? People couldn’t stop talking about it. It changed our perception of anime forever. Now imagine you’re living in the sixties in America. Kurosawa’s Rashomon (1950) was that film. This is one of the greatest films ever made, and that’s my objective judgment; it’s not like it even holds that special a place in my heart. But its artistry on one hand, and the devastating power of its (ultimately) simple story, are overwhelming.

The premise may be familiar even to those who haven’t seen it (as the above Simpsons gag demonstrates): a bandit (Toshirou Mifune, playing his trademarked crazy wild man role) is on trial for the murder of a samurai in a secluded forest glade. Testimony is gathered from the bandit, the samurai’s wife, and the dead man himself–through a medium, who gives a bone-chilling performance when possessed by his spirit. None of the accounts agree. In fact, rather than protesting innocence and blaming someone else, everyone confesses to the crime. Yes, including the victim. This unsolved case is then being discussed by a few vagrants waiting out the rain under the titular Rashomon gate (pictured above).

Above: Three’s Company (Toshirou Mifune in foreground)

But aside from recommending you see it as soon as possible, I have something to say about this film. I think it’s often misunderstood: some people say it’s about the impossibility of finding out what really happened. In this sense it’s about epistemological pessimism. Well (minor spoiler), I have news: by the end, we do know what really happened. One of the accounts given is almost certainly true–except for one embarrassing detail the narrator leaves out, which later comes to light. But what really happened is so awful, so degraded and vile, that everyone prefers confessing to murder because what really happened is worse. Rashomon is about how we distort our own pasts. But moreover, it’s a relentlessly cynical look at human nature that makes Apocalypse Now look like Hogan’s Heroes.

There have been attempts in recent years to capitalize on this simple, yet brilliant premise (The Usual Suspects comes to mind); but the film itself stands as an indelible landmark of cinema. If you see only one Kurosawa film (even though, as I said, it isn’t even my personal favorite) I would suggest it be this.

Rashomon is playing at New York Film Forum on January 28th at 2:00, 3:50, 8:20 and 10:10.