Ran (1985)
Kurosawa Akira
Japan, France
160 mins, color, Japanese (English subtitles)
Review © 2001 Branislav L. Slantchev
RAN was my virginal experience with Kurosawa (although I dimly recall
seeing
SEVEN SAMURAI when I was ten, it does not count). I had heard how
Kurosawa was the greatest thing to happen to cinema since film was invented.
I had also heard about the respect of directors, critics, and audiences
(mostly non-Japanese). I was fashionably suspicious: after all, a dinosaur is
a dinosaur, his style is bound to be dated, his technique cannot help to be
too retro, his statements trite and unexciting. I rented the video without
great expectations, and the almost-three-hours running time did not inspire
confidence in me.
Then I saw it. Nothing could have prepared me for this visually,
aesthetically and dramatically stunning breathtaking epic. I do not know if
only Kurosawa could have made this film. I do not know that he could have
made it only when he was 75. All I know is that I have never seen anything
even remotely comparable to it. The care and precision that have gone into
making the film can be seen in every little detail, from mise en scène to
musical score. One can easily see where the ten years of drawing sketches
have gone.
For some odd reason, all reviews of RAN that I have seen seem to insist
on making sure everybody knows the authors are aware of Shakespeare. I, for
one, think that drawing parallels with "King Lear" shortchanges the film. Sure,
the story is similar (but then everything is derivative from Shakespeare anyway:
for Pete's sake, the guy usurped every viable plot under the sun!), but one
would be waste his attention if he concentrated on identifying the similarities.
By the way, the "old Japanese legend" of the arrows parable is neither ancient
nor Japanese. For example, Bulgaria has a similar story of the aging Khan who
gathers his three sons and makes them enact the same exercise, except I think
it was with sticks, not arrows. Anyway, the point is the same: together we stand,
divided we fall. I particularly liked young Saburo's (Ryu) realistic touch:
one can break everything with determined application of force in a correct way
at a correct point. I will not dwell on the story because (i) it would take
away much of the fun to know it beforehand, and (ii) it is somewhat peripheral
to the act of telling/showing it.
Kurosawa ain't Shakespeare when it comes to words but he surely knows his
visuals. The emphasis is on grand sweeping camera work that never seems to
get close to the actors. This level of abstraction moves the characters from
the realm of the senses to the philosophical, unbound by time or space.
Tatsuya Nakadai's (Lord Hidetora) over-the-top performance is not as
exaggerated as the one he delivered in KAGEMUSHA. The old man is perfect:
going from quiet dignity to despair, and then from insanity to reason again.
There are some scenes where he is simply unbelievable. For example, the storm
scene where Hidetora, who has gone insane, runs around gathering flowers, is
one of the most memorable of the entire film. The rage of nature perfectly
matches the chaos of his tormented soul. Another impressive scene occurs when
Hidetora's son storms the castle where his father lives. Forced to the upper
and last floor of the citadel, Hidetora frantically looks for his sword ---
so that he can commit suicide Incidentally, another scene that sent shivers
down my spine was when his concubines died protecting their Lord without even
a split second hesitation: they see the menacing riflemen, flock around
Hidetora, and are summarily mowed down, all of them. I am stopping here with
the memorable scenes because I am about to retell the whole film.
RAN, however, is not just tragedy. There is plenty of (often black) humor
that occasionally spills into sarcasm. My favorite funny moment occurs when
Kurogane, Jiro's right-hand man, is ordered to deliver the head of Lady Sue,
a senseless and bloody assignment that he opposes. He comes back and delivers
a package to the evil Lady Kaede. When she unpacks it, expecting to see the
head of the woman she hates, out rolls the head of a statue. Kurogane feigns
astonishment: "She must have been a fox!"
Whatever the artistic accomplishments of the actors, or the strengths of the
story, the true impact of this film clearly lies in the visuals. The costumes,
use of color, masses of people running in all directions in orderly chaos, the
careful construction of the serene outdoor scenes as well as the violent ones,
the breathtaking pace of the film, which seems to accelerate even as chaos engulfs
what once was an orderly kingdom, all elements come together guided by Kurosawa's
masterful direction. The ending is heartbreaking and utterly unavoidable.
I am here just as unoriginal as any of the reviews I've seen. There's really
nothing to add to experiencing this film. Unfortunately, we must still wait
for a decent DVD transfer. The Fox Lorber version is atrocious.
March 10, 2001.