Images - Akira Kurosawa's Ran
... Akira Kurosawa¡¯s Ran is that rare epic picture,
at once enormous and intimate,simultaneously melodramatic and nuanced.
... Ran was not Kurosawa¡¯s last film, but if feels like
it. It¡¯sa movie about an old man, made by an old man, ... www.imagesjournal.com/issue09/reviews/ran/text.htm - 10k -
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Akira Kurosawa''s Ran is that rare epic picture, at once enormous and intimate, simultaneously melodramatic and nuanced. The superlatives that seem permanently attached to its name (magnificent, grand, breathtaking) betray its very nature: this is a quietly pessimistic movie, one that peels back the layers of deceit in its characters to find a Godless universe. Weaving together momentum and stasis, Kurosawa fashions a nimble motif of juxtaposition. Visual formality masks emotional anarchy. Like so many of its characters, Ran seems to be one thing but soon proves itself infinitely complex. The title translates to "chaos" and true to its name, Ran ultimately subverts the values it so deceptively inhabits. On the occasion of its 15th anniversary, Winstar Cinema is re-releasing Ran in a brand new 35mm print. Struck from a well-preserved negative stored in producer Serge Silberman's personal archive, Ran will tour the major U.S. cities before being widely released. This is a perfect opportunity for young filmgoers who have only seen the movie on video. Size does matter if we are to fully appreciate Kurosawa's characters at play in the fields of the Lord. In a strange way, Ran is also the ideal millenial movie. It ties together such big concepts as God and family in a story that, while ostensibly lifted from King Lear, plunges deeper into time by borrowing heavily from ancient Japanese fables and legends. Ran follows Shakespeare's five act structure, but it feels more naturalistic than that. The first hour or so blows over us like a warm breeze. We meet Hidetora (Tatsuya Nakadai), an aging warlord, as he divides his kingdom among his three sons. The youngest, Saburo, rejects his inheritance and is banished. The elder two assume power in what Hidetora mistakenly believes to be a peaceful transition. Kurosawa composes these early scenes as a sequence of static shots, each of which are as detailed and inert as a painting. Setting these scenes amid vast mountains and the big sky reduces the characters to mere specks. All this fussing and quarrelling is inconsequential, Kurosawa suggests. What endures is the world around us.
The movie then moves inside, introducing us to a painfully ritualistic society in which people move and talk in slow motion. The rooms are spartan and feel two-dimensional. Kurosawa is imitating theater, creating an artificial world of symmetry and visual order. But it is the destruction of that outward perfection that interests Kurosawa and he wastes no time in introducing one of cinema's great bitches, Lady Kaide (Mieko Harada), wife of Taro, the eldest son. In her oppressively layered costumes, which themselves suggest mounds of duplicity, she orchestrates the banishment of Hidetora from his kingdom and instigates a war between the brothers. Lady Kaide may have wandered in from the set of MacBeth (or Kurosawa's own Throne of Blood) but she is a product of Japan's Noh theater: her makeup represents the face of remorseless Vengeance. Mourning the death of her husband later in the movie, she impassively crushes a butterfly between her fingers. Hidetora's other daughter-in-law, Lady Sue, is a devout Buddhist and faithful subject, even though Hidetora once ravaged her home and blinded her brother. She has chosen forgiveness, which Hidetora can’t understand. She, like his sons, behaves contrary to what he expects. Interestingly, her face is never shown, nor that of her brother's. They are spirit-like, floating somewhere above the political maneuverings. That Lady Sue and Lady Kaide should meet the same grisly fate points to a resigned atheism. Nothing is rewarded and everything is punished in a world devoid of divine intervention. And yet God is everywhere in this movie. He is certainly in the battle scenes, which Kurosawa has filmed with a kind of omniscient detachment. He’s also in the weather – gentle at first, then increasingly stormy as brother fights brother, and ultimately hurricane force as Hidetora goes insane and wanders the wilderness with his Fool. This is all punctuated by large, billowing clouds that Kurosawa frequently cuts to as if to emphasize the immateriality of it all. Clouds finally give way to a red sunset as the death toll mounts and we are left with complete destruction in the movie’s final scenes. But nowhere is God's presence more apparent (and sorrowful) than in Hidetora's wizened face. Reason having long since abandoned him, his skin becomes chalky white, his beard long and unkempt, his face completely slack. He has grown confused by his own creation run amok and has lost the ability, and desire, to control it. Ran was not Kurosawa's last film, but if feels like it. It is a movie about an old man, made by an old man, both of whom were weary of the world. At one point, Hidetora remarks, "How hard it is to be old!" For Kurosawa, the difficulty was in reconciling the hypocrisies he saw around him. Of his movie Rashomon, he wrote in his autobiography, "human beings are unable to be honest with themselves about themselves?even the character who dies cannot give up his lies." This cynicism informs Ran’s ideology: who can endure a world where God is present but powerless, where family members betray each other, where insanity is the only means of survival? Enshrining the story in a sumptuous visual style, Kurosawa has perhaps created the ultimate social critique – a movie whose outward richness seduces us into thoroughly enjoying a tale of human damnation.
Ran re-opens in New York on Friday, August 18th at UA Union Square Theater. Also opening August 18th in Los Angeles at Landmark's Cecchi Gori Fine Arts Theatre and Seattle at Landmark's Egyptian Theatre. Additional play dates: September 8, 2000, Washington DC at Kennedy Center/AFI; September 15, 2000, Philadelphia at Ritz Theatres; September 29, 2000, San Francisco at The Castro and Chicago at The Music Box; October 6, 2000, Berkeley at Landmark's U.C. Theatre and Milwaukee at Times Theater; October 7, 2000, Chicago at Doc Films; October 27, 2000, Rhinebeck, NY at Upstate Films; and November 17, 2000, Pittsburgh at Harris Theater. Other play dates to be announced.
WEB LINK: Photos: (© 2000 Winstar Cinema. All rights reserved.)
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Akira Kurosawa's Ran
movie
review: RAN. A film by Akira Kurosawa. 15th Anniversary. A Winstar
Cinema re-release. New laser subtitles. New 35mm prints. Review by David
Ng.> <META name= www.imagesjournal.com/issue09/reviews/ran/ - 3k -
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Directed by Akira Kurosawa Writing credits Akira Kurosawa (screenplay) and Hideo Oguni (screenplay) ... (more) |
Plot Outline: An elderly lord abdicates to his three sons, and the two corrupt ones turn against him. (more) (view trailer)
User Comments: One of the most moving movies i have ever seen (more)
User Rating: ![]()
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8.4/10 (11,485 votes)
| Cast overview, first billed only: | ||
| Tatsuya Nakadai | .... | Lord Hidetora Ichimonji |
| Akira Terao | .... | Taro Takatora Ichimonji |
| Jinpachi Nezu | .... | Jiro Masatora Ichimonji |
| Daisuke Ryu | .... | Saburo Naotora Ichimonji |
| Mieko Harada | .... | Lady Kaede |
| Yoshiko Miyazaki | .... | Lady Sué |
| Hisashi Igawa | .... | Shuri Kurogane |
| Peter | .... | Kyoami |
| Masayuki Yui | .... | Tango Hirayama |
| Kazuo Kato | .... | Kageyu Ikoma |
| Norio Matsui | .... | Shumenosuke Ogura |
| Toshiya Ito | .... | Mondo Naganuma |
| Kenji Kodama | .... | Samon Shirane |
| Takashi Watanabe | ||
| Mansai Nomura | .... | Tsurumaru (as Takeshi Nomura) |
| (more) | ||
Also Known As:
Chaos
Ran (USA)
Runtime:
160 min
Country: Japan / France
Language: Japanese
Color: Color
Sound Mix: 70
mm 6-Track (70 mm prints) / Dolby (35 mm
prints)
Certification: Argentina:16
/ Australia:PG
/ Chile:18 /
Finland:K-16
/ France:U /
Japan:R /
Norway:16
(1985) / Singapore:PG
/ Sweden:15
/ UK:12
(video re-rating) (2004) / UK:15 (original
rating) / UK:15 (video
rating) (1986) / USA:R / West
Germany:12 / Canada:13+
(Quebec)
One of the most moving movies i have ever seen, 12 February
2005
Author: Yatesy_2003 from United
Kingdom
Ran was not what I expected, I saw it in my local video shop and thought I
would check it out as I have an interest in the time period. When I was finished
watching it I was amazed at the genius of Kurosawa.
He creates a story
wrought with betrayal and honour. And with characters (which I found to be one
of the few times I have actually felt for) you either hate or feel sorry for
them, like Hidetora's madness induced by his two sons betrayal and how he has
made his own destruction. Plus, you actually hate the character of the two older
brothers, Taro and Jiro and how they have conspired against Hidetora. But
especially Lady Kaede when she died it was one of the best parts of the film as
from the start she was a conniving and ruthless character which you felt no love
for. The battles were also very good and graphic. In all Ran a movie I thought
was just about Samurai, turned out to be the best film or one of I have ever
seen 10/10 most definitely
Jim's Reviews - Kurosawa's RAN
... Ran (1985) is also a perfect capstone to Kurosawa's entire career (although he would make three more films, ... and power of Kurosawa's artistry, compare it to a film which is visually so different from Ran yet equally sublime. ... jclarkmedia.com/film/filmreviewran.html - 26k -
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Ran(King Lear)Written, Directed and Edited by Akira Kurosawa 1985, Japan – 160 minutes, color, aspect ratio 1.85:1 – Drama
In Brief: This dramatically and visually shattering adaptation
of King Lear is a masterpiece on every level. Highest
recommendation!
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Ran (literally "Madness" or "Chaos"), legendary director
Akira Kurosawa's twenty-seventh of thirty films, is not only the summit of his
artistry but a universally acclaimed masterpiece.
Kurosawa spent ten years meticulously preparing every detail of, and scouring the world for funding for, his magnum opus, a free adaptation of Shakespeare's King Lear transposed to sixteenth century feudal Japan. The aging Lord Hidetora (Tatsuya Nakadai in a monumental performance) decrees that his land be divided among his three sons (changed from Shakespeare's three daughters). Blinded by the flattery of the two older sons, he banishes his youngest for speaking the truth. The remaining heirs, driven by power and greed, shun their father and turn on each other. A broken man, Hidetora descends into madness as he watches the kingdom he had held together for fifty years disintegrate into apocalyptic destruction. We see, and feel, the "Ran," the literal chaos of the title, in the destruction of the bonds of duty which once united a son to his father, a brother to his brother, and a samurai to his lord. Kurosawa makes no apologies for taking the time he needs to explore every nuance of his characters and themes. This magisterial film is an aesthetic triumph, with sequences ranging from one of the most overwhelming (and influential) battles ever filmed to intimate scenes which begin with ritualistic formality but then erupt into volcanic passion.
Ran (1985) is also a perfect capstone to Kurosawa's entire career (although he would make three more films, none as ambitious, before his death at age 88 in 1998). I recently spent a month watching virtually all of his films in chronological order (a pleasure which I highly recommend). It was fascinating to see one of the world's greatest filmmakers, and artists, discover his vision, through image and sound as much as through theme. Before this retrospective, I had admired Kurosawa (who doesn't?); but afterwards, I was in complete awe of his achievement, from many scenes in his earliest films, made during World War II, to his first two masterpieces, Stray Dog (1949; a Film Noir about a cop, played by Toshirô Mifune – the star of sixteen Kurosawa films – who searches Tokyo for his stolen gun and finds much more than he bargained for) and Rashomon (1950; which explores the same event from four strikingly different perspectives), to such later triumphs as Seven Samurai (1954; although set in feudal Japan, it shows Kurosawa's love for and mastery of the Westerns by such American directors as Ford and Hawks); The Hidden Fortress (1958; acknowledged by George Lucas as a primary influence on the plot of Star Wars); the entertaining Yojimbo (1961); the boldly experimental Dodes'ka-den (1970); and the ravishingly beautiful and poignant tale of cross-cultural friendship, Dersu Uzala (1974). Three other highlights of his filmography are his Shakespeare adaptations: Throne of Blood (1957) from Macbeth, The Bad Sleep Well (1960) from Hamlet (set in the cutthroat world of modern big business), and of course the film discussed in this essay, which brings together his passion for Shakespearean tragedy, Japanese history and philosophy, and his profound understanding of human nature.
Kurosawa
brings an uncanny balance of psychological insight, thematic density, and visual
and aural mastery to his reinvention of Lear. He gives us a developed backstory
for Hidetora (although some would argue that Shakespeare's Lear is so dominating
a presence, both on the throne and in madness, that he does not need more of a
personal history). Tatsuya Nakadai's performance is, in a word, overwhelming. He
brings out all of his character's pathos despite the traditional Noh makeup
which Kurosawa has only this one actor wear. As the Production Notes on the DVD
point out, he begins with a fierce visage resembling the traditional demon mask,
"Akijo," but as he descends into madness, his deeply-lined face and red-rimmed
eyes tellingly suggest "Shiwajo," the sorrowing old man spirit forced to wander
the earth to pay for his sins. What might have been a mere distancing technique
in a lesser filmmaker is here shattering, as we are constantly reminded both of
Hidetora's artifice and heartbreaking humanity.
Kurosawa also made a fascinating decision not only to expand the role of the Fool, here named Kyoami (see the photo of him and Hidetora), into a major character (while eliminating Shakespeare's Gloucester/Edmund/Edgar subplot), but to make him both sexually ambiguous and totally beguiling. He is played by the Japanese transgender pop star known simply as Peter. Kyoami is, in a way, the healing opposite of the chaos ("Ran") of the title, as he balances both masculine and feminine energy, great courage as well as flexibility and tenderness. As we see, those qualities are especially important in a rigidly hierarchical society, founded on macho posturing, like the one disastrously promulgated by Hidetora.
Kurosawa's other major addition is Lady Kaede (brilliantly played by Mieko Harada), who exists as a sort of demonic opposite to Kyoami. Although based on Shakespeare's Goneril, she is a much more complex and important character in the film. Her unstoppable vengeance brings down the House of Ichimonji, first as the wife of Jiro the second son, then as the mistress of Taro, the eldest son. Without giving away some of the film's most dramatic plot revelations, let it be noted that what Hidetora did to Lady Kaede's parents, years earlier, provides the reason for her unwavering hatred, which plays a pivotal role in the destruction of Hidetora's society.
Although I have never seen or read (over a dozen times) a more overwhelming play than King Lear, and although Kurosawa sometimes freely adapts the plot, still I believe that the filmmaker has been entirely faithful to the spirit of the most revered author in Western literature. (For the record, King Lear also has been brilliantly filmed, in Russian, by Grigori Kozintsev in 1969; this is another of the 10 Best Films Based on Shakespeare which I have seen; British director Peter Brook released his first-rate film of the play in 1971; and although I am a devout admirer of Jean-Luc Godard, his deconstructivist King Lear (1987), featuring Burgess Meredith as Lear, Norman Mailer and... Woody Allen!, is not as penetrating as most of his other films.)
Each of Kurosawa's changes not only works supremely well in his unique dramatic, and philosophical, conception of the story, it can be argued that they also cast a revealing light on Shakespeare. One example of this is Kurosawa's expanded, not to mention transgendered, Fool, who raises a host of provocative issues around gender roles, power structure, and what qualities might be necessary to survive in a chaotic world (feudal Japan or 21st century America – take your pick).
Besides his exemplary cast, Kurosawa makes evocative use of landscape to realize his vision. The mountains and plains of Hidetora's domain were shot at Mount Aso, an active volcano in the broad central plains of Kyushu, Japan's still largely wild southern island. Kurosawa, as Japan's most highly respected filmmaker, also obtained rare permission to shoot at two of the country's most cherished landmarks, the ancient castles at Kumamoto and Himeji; the third castle, which was burned to the ground, was constructed of plastic and wood on the slopes of Mount Fuji. Costume designer Emi Wada, who won an Oscar for Ran, worked with Kurosawa to create the 1,400 costumes, accurate to the last detail and hand-made by master tailors. It took four months just to make each beautifully colored robe, and three years to complete all of the work.
Kurosawa himself spent ten years meticulously planning every aspect of Ran, including its visual scope. There is something poignant about one of the world's great filmmakers spending a decade painting hundreds of canvases for the film he most wanted to make, but for which he was never sure he would be able to raise the money. (Some of Kurosawa's magnificent pictures – he was a painter before a filmmaker – are included in the published screenplay of Ran.) Even after the success of Kagemusha (1980), financed by his American admirers, filmmakers George Lucas (American Graffiti, Star Wars) and Francis Coppola (The Godfather, Apocalypse Now), Kurosawa could not raise the money for Ran, which everyone knew would be the most expensive film ever made in Japan. After years of frustration, Serge Silberman, the French producer who backed the later films of Luis Buñuel (The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, That Obscure Object of Desire), gave Kurosawa the budget he needed to make Ran.
Kurosawa
is, of course, a visual master, and that is what I want to look at now. Granted,
some people find his style, especially in the later films (including
Ran), austere. But for me, his use of image and sound is exactly,
almost preternaturally, revealing about his subjects. Look at this opening shot
of Ran (reproduced here in its correct aspect ratio of 1.85:1, i.e., it's a
little less than twice as wide as it is high). Throughout the opening
sequence, of just over a dozen shots, he used his "multi-camera method,"
employing three camera shooting simultaneously, but with different lenses and
from different angles. You can chart the progress of the film visually by
comparing this opening image, with its ominously massing thunderclouds, which
presage the coming storm, to the blood red sunset of its final image in the
final shot included below. (Although Kurosawa was infamous for sometimes waiting
weeks to get exactly the cloud formations he wanted, that did not happen with
Ran, where the shooting proceeded smoothly over its ten-month
schedule.) In the opening image, notice how, despite the stillness of the four
horsemen waiting in motionless silence, there are intense visual dynamics: The
contrast of earth and sky, the severely limited number of visual planes (this
effect was created by using a telephoto lens and shooting a great distance from
the actors), the tension produced - despite the bright full sunlight - by having
each of the riders staring in a completely different direction (plus there was
the added mystery of not knowing what they are searching for so intently, since
we we are not yet aware that they are on a boar hunt). This one image sets up
the entire film, both visually and dramatically: Those four warlords, standing
at sharp right angles, will soon pull apart not only each other but their entire
world.
To
appreciate the subtlety and power of Kurosawa's artistry, compare it to a film
which is visually so different from Ran yet equally sublime. In the
frame to the left (1.33:1 aspect ratio, as filmed) from
Othello (1952), you can see how actor/director Orson Welles
(Citizen Kane, Touch of Evil) translates the dense,
unsettling metaphors of Shakespeare's language – and the emotional turmoil of
the doomed title character – into image. The disorienting high angle, tortured
composition, and ominous contrast of light and shadow are a dead-on visual
correlative to Shakespeare. (You are welcome to read my comments on this sequence from Welles's
Othello, which includes seven key shots and a link to a free
unabridged online copy of the play.) But whereas Welles literalizes
Shakespeare's metaphors through design and composition, Kurosawa captures, with
breathtaking fullness, the emotion of Shakespeare, both the depth of
his characters and the profundity of his insights into society.
Within his unified stylistic design, Kurosawa uses several techniques to bring Shakespeare to the screen. One of his most powerful strategies involves employing a static composition – which paradoxically makes us feel both godlike and powerless - and then abruptly brings action into the frame. We can see this clearly in the first battle sequence, filmed with breathtaking horror and silence – except for Toru Takemitsu's haunting score. (Some people consider this the greatest war scene ever filmed; it has inspired many films since, including the acclaimed opening of Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan (1998). We view the carnage from a detached, almost omniscient point of view, when suddenly Kurosawa thrusts a new atrocity into the frame. The overwhelming power of this sequence is compounded by the deliberate, ritualistic pacing of the scenes which have preceded it. You can see the aftermath in the first still reproduced at the top of this page, with the now-shattered Hidetora, flanked by awe-struck soldiers, shambling away from the flaming ruins of his castle. Visually, Kurosawa makes us understand how and why the once omnipotent ruler has become a wraithlike madman.
Kurosawa is
also a master at judiciously using jump cuts, which move to a slightly later
action in a scene, creating an effect of acceleration, or even slight
disorientation. They are dynamic but also suggest an unstable, rapidly shifting,
slightly unsettling world. (Many critics, and filmgoers, consider Kurosawa one
of the world's greatest editors.) A perfect example of how Kurosawa uses jump
cuts occurs in the film's visual stark, and emotionally overwhelming, final
scene (which made me physically tremble). Kurosawa isolates the blind young man
Tsurumaru (played by Takashi Nomura), another victim of Hidetora's ruthlessness,
as he taps his way to the edge of a vast precipice. He just barely misses falling
over. But the camera shows us what he can not see – but which we know he can
feel – a hellish red, flat, utterly desolate world, with him the tiny, tiny
figure in the center (see the frame above). It is a stark contrast to
the opening shot, with its verdant plains and blue sky, and it is a perfect end
to Kurosawa's masterpiece, and a visual encapsulation of the emotional climax
not only of Ran, but of Shakespeare's King Lear
too.
Here
is a free, unabridged copy of Shakespeare's King Lear.
Wellspring has created an exceptional fully-restored DVD of this film, which completely eclipses the earlier DVD from another distributor (a revealing split-screen Restoration Demonstration, included on the disc shows the striking differences between the old and new releases). Wellspring created a high-definition anamorphic widescreen transfer and then further refined it digitally, to remove any visual imperfections. As a result, the image and sound quality are vivid, and the many extra features – including two separate, full-length commentaries (on optional sound tracks) – are excellent. Since I have a preference for close readings of a film's visual style – composition, color, camera movement, and how they relate to the drama and theme – I especially appreciated film scholar Stephen Prince's superb, almost shot by shot analysis of the film. Peter Grilli's commentary, which took a more anecdotal approach, was also informative and enjoyable.
| Reviewed May 17, 2003
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