'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' review: A brief, but thoroughly enjoyable, early Kurosawa film...

Here is a follow-up to yesterday's post regarding my trip to see a very rare early Kurosawa film at the BFI Southbank. I didn't know quite what to expect from the 1945 film 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' but I was really pleasantly surprised by what I saw tonight. One of the few things I knew about the film before going in was that it based on an old 12th Century Japanese tale and uses aspects of Nah and Kabuki theatre adaptations in its telling. I worried slightly that this may be alienating or (frankly) boring to watch, but actually the film was really well paced and consistently entertaining. Of course, it helped that it ran at a brisk 58 minutes in length.

'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' really feels like the simple, effective telling of an age-old tale. What surprised me the most was that, despite the fact the film pre-dates his "golden period", many of Kurosawa's trademark shots and techniques are visible here. There are screenwipes, quick cuts between multiple protagonists and even many of his consistent themes are invoked (humanist values, criticism of traditional values and the emphasis on male characters). Furthermore, the film features a number of actors he would later rely on such as Masayuki Mori ('Rashomon', 'The Idiot', 'The Bad Sleep Well'), Susumu Fujita ('Yojimbo', 'The Hidden Fortress') and the great Takashi Shimura (too many to mention, most famously 'Ikiru' and 'Seven Samurai').

As I wrote yesterday, I couldn't pass up the chance to see this rarely screened film which is unavailable on DVD (at least in the UK). I wondered what the quality of the print would be like for this movie and when it started it was plain to see not only that this piece of film had been around since the film's US release in 1952, but that it was an American version. For one thing the subtitles looked like they had been scratched directly onto the film and, more obviously, the opening credits and titles were all in English. There was also a three page forward giving the context of the story and telling us that "this is a story which is loved by the Japanese". Sometimes the sound went and even the picture cut out at other times, but I found that strangely charming. After seeing the remastered splendour of 'Rashomon' the week before, it was sort of nice to see what a used and abused print looked like. It was a great advert for the likes of Martin Scorsese, who tell us frequently about the need to restore and maintain older films. Hopefully somebody will do the same for this movie before it is worn out of existence!



This is not to criticise the BFI at all. They deserve kudos for finding and screening such an unsung and obscure film as this as part of their Kurosawa season. The screening (admittedly in one of the smaller screens) was pleasingly quite well attended too and the movie played to a good atmosphere, with the comedy of contemporary comedian Kenichi "Enoken" Enomoto going down a storm. Enoken is really exaggerated and campy throughout but his porter character (introduced to the tale by Kurosawa) is what makes the film satirical, as he undermines the heroism and traditional values of the party of soldiers he is in service of. Displaying all the cowardice and opportunism of the lowly pair later seen in 'The Hidden Fortress', the porter delightfully contradicts the earnest Bushido of the rest of the film.

I don't usually go in for plot synopsis here, but seeing as this film is so hard to come by it might be a good idea. Basically, a group of warriors are disguised as travelling monks in order to escort their lord safely into another territory as he is on the run after a dispute with the ruling clan (in another plot element reminiscent of 'The Hidden Fortress'). However, they are expected at the checkpoint barrier and the film mainly involves a stand-off between the head warrior (Captain Beneki, played by the wonderful Denjiro Okochi) and the barrier guard (Togashi, played by Fujita) as he attempts to convince him that the group are the monks they claim to be. It is sometimes funny, sometimes actually very tense and always gripping stuff.

When the barrier guards recognise one of the porters as the wanted lord, Beneki trashes his master with a stick, supposedly to discipline him for being slow. Convinced that a warrior would never beat his master the barrier guard agree to let the men pass. Apparently the debate among Japanese fans of the old tale is whether Togashi knows that Beneki is lying or not, perhaps deciding to let him pass regardless. However here, in this telling, I believe Kurosawa has Togashi convinced by the beating, so stuck is he in an old code of honour now obsolete. Or at least, if not wholly convinced, Beneki breaks all the rules and Togashi is socially unable to accuse another man of his class of that dishonesty and ultimate shame. To deal with his shame at beating his master (in order to save his life) Beneki is shown to drink a barrel full of sake, much like Toshiro Mifune's Kikuchiyo does in 'Seven Samurai' after his own shameful episode.



Despite its brevity there is a lot to take in after watching 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail', a complex and thoroughly entertaining film. I had expected to find myself appreciating it more than liking it and had hoped to see the genesis of some of Kurosawa's later work represented in this early film. Instead what I was treated to was a film full of such moments, but which also worked completely in its own right. It was made quite cheaply and is entirely set-bound (with painted exterior backdrops), but it is quite atmospheric all the same thanks to Kurosawa's direction and the photography of Takeo Itô (who later worked on 'Drunken Angel'). Enoken's rampant over-acting may grate with some, so (intentionally) at odds is it with the rest of the piece, but if you get the chance to see it some time in the future then I would recommend you spend 58 minutes watching 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail'. Especially if you appreciate Kurosawa's later work.

'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' is currently exempt from classification by the BBFC. However, with the complete absence of shown violence or any bad language it would comfortably receive a 'U' in my opinion.

Remember when I told you I would shut up about Kurosawa? I lied!

On Monday I said that my recent flurry of celebratory posts about the films of Akira Kurosawa would com to an end with that review of the incredible reissued print of 'Rashonmon'. Well, predictably I am banging on about Kurosawa again. This time to say that I am going back to the BFI Southbank tomorrow to see a rare wartime film of his which I know precious little about: 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail'. The earliest of Kurosawa's films I have seen to date is 1948's 'Drunken Angel' (his first film starring Toshiro Mifune and the film on which he felt he'd discovered himself as a filmmaker). Most of the films which came out after 'Drunken Angel' are readily available to buy on DVD in the UK and so out of his 30 films I have been lucky enough to see 20 to date. However 'They Who Step on the Tiger's Tail' will be the first of his 6 "early period" films which I will have seen. I'm really excited by this rare chance to see a film which is completely unavailable to buy in this country.

Amazingly, although the film was shot in 1945, it wasn't released until 1952 as it was banned by the American occupation (a fact Kurosawa attributed to a "mean-spirited" censor rather than the content of his film). I can't wait to see what all the fuss was about.

On a separate note (but still on the subject of Japanese cinema) I received a book in the post today by an American writer called Peter H. Brothers. He has written a comprehensive book in celebration of the overlooked godfather of the monster movie, Ishiro Honda (best known for the original 1954 'Godzilla'). The book is called 'Mushroom Clouds and Mushroom Men: The Fantastic Cinema of Ishiro Honda' and I can't wait to read it and review it here. Incidently, Honda was a good friend (and one-time assistant director) of a certain Kurosawa. In fact he is known to have directed huge parts of Kurosawa's 1990 film 'Dreams' and was ever-present on the set during his final films.

Here is the trailer to the fantastic 'Godzilla' which stars the great Takashi Shimura and is a much better film than the campy series that followed would lead you to think:

'Rashomon' re-issue review: A much needed big screen outing for a true classic...

I have recently written a fair bit on this blog about the work of Akira Kurosawa. Jon and I recently recorded a special Kurosawa-themed Splendor Cinema podcast, whilst I have also written here about my favourite of his films and about some of the re-makes he inspired. On Friday I visited the BFI Southbank in London where I took advantage of their awesome world cinema shop to purchase a copy of his splendid autobiography and also fill some the gaps in my DVD collection: I found copies of ‘The Idiot’, ‘The Bad Sleep Well’, ‘Drunken Angel’ and ‘High and Low’. Most importantly, I took the opportunity to watch his international breakthrough, the Golden Lion winning 1950 film ‘Rashomon’, now in a glorious restored print which has been re-issued at selected cinemas nationwide.



‘Rashomon’ had previously been a film I admired more than enjoyed. I appreciated how significant it was in opening the eyes of western critics to Japanese cinema and I also understood its influence, the narrative structure (focussing on four subjective accounts of a rape and murder) has been copied by a countless number of films and has also been adapted by science and philosophy – the so-called “Rashomon effect”. But when I saw it on Friday it marked the first time I had seen the film on the big screen and its impact on me was much greater.

Partly this was down to paying the film greater attention than I had possibly done in the past. In a cinema it is just you and the film. You can’t pause it. You can’t look at your phone. You can’t go and get a drink and you hesitate to leave for the toilet. It holds your complete, undivided attention.

This time I noticed the virtuosity of Kurosawa’s camera work, often panning and swooping in elaborate long takes. Just as often it is still and patient with the director allowing the action to move in and out of the frame. It is in many ways a masterclass in how to shoot a film, especially action sequences. Like his hero John Ford, Kurosawa is able to make everything look deceptively simple and made his films with great economy. The film feels tight, disciplined and is basically as close to perfect as any movie could hope to be.



The performances are also fantastic. Toshiro Mifune is at his most cat-like as a snarling bandit accused of murder, whilst Takashi Shimura gives a great turn as a woodcutter who reports the crime, with some scenes of emotional poignancy to rival his more celebrated role in ‘Ikiru’. There are also roles for lesser known Kurosawa regulars such as Minoru Chiaki (who plays a troubled priest) and Masayuki Mori (above) as the murdered samurai. There is also Machiko Kyō, who almost steals the show as the samurai’s wife. Kyō cries and screams with an intensity which renders her performance unforgettable. Like almost every female in a Kurosawa movie, she is also called upon to be somewhat conniving and manipulative which she does with some gusto (representations of women are not Kurosawa’s strongest suit, for that see Mizoguchi, Ozu or Naruse) .

But more impressive than its stars and the great craft of its master director is its typically humanist portrayal of the characters. During the varying accounts of the central murder, what struck me was that the emphasis is not on the practical differences between the accounts, but on something subtler. It is the difference in tone, the different emotional reactions to the event and the changes in meaning which shape this tale and give ‘Rashomon’ its depth. During the trial scenes, in which the characters gather to give their testimonies, the judges are unseen. We are only shown the storytellers themselves talking to camera. Therefore when they lie the implication is that they are only lying to themselves (and perhaps to us).

The bandit wants us to believe he is a hard man, a skilful swashbuckler and a user of women. Watching him speak you feel he has succeeded in convincing himself. The samurai (whose testimony comes via a medium) gives an account in which he dies an honourable death by suicide to compensate for the shame he feels at seeing his wife raped. However the woodcutter’s story (in all details but one final twist taken to be the “true” account) reveals that both men were cowardly: that they fought but that it involved a lot of falling over and scrambling in the dirt. During the encounter Mifune pants loudly: out of breath and full of fear.



They never really cross swords (as in the bandit's version above); instead they swing wildly and run away from each other. The samurai’s final words are “I don’t want to die”. The truth is pathetic, not heroic or romantic. The truth is human. Kurosawa’s point is not that all people are bad or that all people are cowards, but that people are flawed. That we should be suspicious of those who portray themselves as honourable, just as we should of those who promote the idea that they are the opposite. That people are not caricatures: they are complicated.

Happily, for Kurosawa and ‘Rashomon’, there is just as much good as bad in the world. The priest’s faith in humanity is restored by the woodcutter’s decision to adopt an abandoned baby and defend it against a man who seeks to rob it of its few possessions. The woodcutter is told by the man that all people are selfish and that being selfish is necessary to survive (a popular view among capitalists). But the woodcutter rejects this assessment of humanity and, although he already has six children, he takes on the responsibility of another. This final moment sees Kurosawa at his most sentimental, but it is the necessary conclusion to the story and one which gives us hope.



It is hope which is an important final message for Kurosawa and Japan in ‘Rashomon’. Made in the aftermath of the Second World War in a battered and defeated nation, the film is in part allegorical. It opens on a broken gate, a relic from a period of prosperity and cultural richness. The woodcutter and the priest find shelter under this ruin as a heavy rainfall lashes down throughout the film. When the woodcutter adopts the infant the rainfall stops and the duo are able to leave the broken past behind and walk into a more hopeful future, for Japan and for the world. Fitting for a film which heralded a similarly bright future for Japanese cinema.

I, obviously, highly recommend seeking out ‘Rashomon’ in a cinema near you. It is playing at the BFI Southbank until the 8th of July on an extended run and is rated ‘12A’ by the BBFC.

The first of the "Pantheon series"...

A new Splendor Cinema podcast is up (episode 17), both at Picturehouse and on iTunes. This week Jon and I talk about the life and work of Akira Kurosawa (as mentioned in my previous Kurosawa post) to celebrate his centenary year, as inspired by this month's Sight and Sound magazine.

We give our individual "top 5" Kurosawa movies and discuss stuff from across the legendary director's career. It's an extra long one too (about 42 minutes) so be sure to listen if you're a fan of Japanese cinema or just Samurai.

This podcast is the first in our long planned "Pantheon series" in which we will do a number of one-off specials about "great" directors and ask the question "do they belong on the Pantheon?" We have plenty more planned so watch this space (or subscribe on iTunes).

My top five Kurosawa films (you may not have seen)...

This year is Kurosawa's centenary (he posthumously turned 100 back in March). Sight and Sound magazine have celebrated with a really great series of Kurosawa features in their July issue. Really great is the fact that they have re-printed interviews with the man himself, which are amazing to read (at least if your a bit obsessive about his life and work as I am).

I have decided to follow their lead and post clips for a "Top Five Kurosawa Films You Haven't Seen". I was tempted just to do my own "top five" list, but that would be a bit boring as it would include films everyone knows about. The likes of 'Yojimbo', 'Seven Samurai', 'The Hidden Fortress', 'Rashomon', 'Ran' and 'Ikiru' have been excluded from my thinking for this list. Instead, here are five of his films that everyone should seek out if they have the time and the interest:

'High & Low' (1963)
Based on an Ed McBain crime novel, 'High & Low' stars Toshiro Mifune in one of his greatest performances. Here is a really crazy American trailer which tries to sell this slow and talky movie as if it's a piece of Hitchcock:

'Drunken Angel' (1948)
A really overlooked gem. Two years before 'Rashomon' made everyone take notice in Europe, Kurosawa made this amazing film which also marked Kurosawa's first collaboration with Mifune (who steals the show from the equally brilliant Takashi Shimura). A really good, grimy look at post-war Japan and as political as Kurosawa ever got. The final scenes are among the most intense I have ever seen.

'Red Beard' (1965)
This slow, three hour 19th century medical epic was Kurosawa's final film with Mifune. Never a more humanistic movie did Kurosawa make.

'I Live in Fear' (1955)
Again, stars Toshiro Mifune. This time playing a man twice his actual age. The story is great: it concerns a man who dreams of moving his family to Brazil to escape the impending atomic holocaust he fears is coming to Japan. The paranoia and the exasperation of Mifune's old man are priceless. The film also marks the last score by Fumio Hayasaka, as he died of tuberculosis shortly after completing the score. It also has some great alternative titles in the west: 'Record of a Living Being' and 'What the Birds Knew'. Kurosawa would return to this atom bomb paranoia with a short section in 1990's 'Dreams'. I can't find a video clip so here is that mournful score, stained with tragedy:


'Dreams' (1990)
Curiously the only Kurosawa film to be available to stream from X-Box Live, 'Dreams' was part produced by Steven Speilberg (in a similar manner to how Coppola and Lucas helped finance 'Kagemusha' in 1980) and has visual effects from ILM. The film is a series of shorts which represent Kurosawa's own dreams. I'm not going to lie: some of them are a bit rubbish and much of the dialogue is terrible. But the whole film is visually splendid. Below is the entire "Crows" chapter, which stars Martin Scorcese as Vincent Van Gogh. The way Kurosawa turns Van Gogh's paintings into live action is breathtaking.


Also, if you want to get into Kurosawa (or if you are a bit of a fan already) you could do worse than to read his own book Something Like an Autobiography (which tells Kurosawa's life story up to the making of 'Rashomon' in 1950) or Donald Richie's brilliant The Films of Akira Kurosawa. The Richie book is an essential: detailed academic essays on every single one of his films. What a great book!

Finally, if you're hungry for even more Kurosawa then check out a short post I did, back in May, on his films being remade. Also, look out (or listen out) for the next Splendor podcast, which will take the form of a Kurosawa love-in.

KUROSAWA Remakes: they aren't all bad...

The news that Chris Rock is re-writing Akira Kurosawa's 'High and Low' (one of my favourite movies of all-time) for Mike Nichols to direct, has made me think about remakes. Usually, and probably rightly, remakes are dismissed as rubbish before they have even been released. There is this idea that they are terrible movies by default: that no movie should ever be remade at all. I wish to refute that logic here and now, looking specifically at remakes of Kurosawa films, which generally seem to be quite good...

Remade at the hands of John Sturges and starring Steve McQueen and Yul Brynner (among others), Kurosawa's 'The Seven Samurai' (1954) became 'The Magnificent Seven' in 1960.





Kurosawa would again see one of his finest Samurai pictures turned into a western, when 'Yojimbo' (1961) was unofficially (but blatantly) remade by Sergio Leone a few years later as 'A Fistful of Dollars' in 1964. Some scenes are shot-for-shot reproductions of those from the earlier movie, with the long "three coffins" tracking shot through the town virtually identical in both. Clint Eastwood has also admitted that he heavily based his depiction of the "the man with no name" on Toshiro Mifune's.





It is often said that Kurosawa's 'The Hidden Fortress' (1958) was the main source of inspiration for George Lucas' first 'Star Wars' film in 1977. Lucas has said that the two comedy-relief peasants from the Japanese film were the direct inspiration for R2-D2 and C3P0, as he liked the fact the narrative seemed to be told from the point of view of the lowliest characters. There is also a Princess in peril who the band of heroes must rescue and add to that Toshiro Mifune as 'the General', who is very much a model for Han Solo (an antagonistic rouge with a good heart who wins the Princess with whom he argues - although Lucas tried to cast Mifune as Obi-Wan Kenobi). From a technical point of view, Lucas also borrowed Kurosawa's use of screen wipes and the horse chase sequence seems to have been an inspiration for the speeder bike sequence in the later 'Star Wars' sequel: 'Return of the Jedi' (1983). Lucas' love of Kurosawa movies was made even clearer in 1980, when he and Francis Ford Coppola helped the Japanese master fund his epic 'Kagemusha'.





Of course, there have been some less good ones too...

In 1996 'Last Man Standing', starring Bruce Willis, was a direct remake of 'Yojimbo' which fared rather less well than Leone's:



Many films have been inspired by Kurosawa's 1950 film 'Rashomon', with the so-called 'Rashomon effect' being when the same story is told from multiple, changing points of view, shedding new light on an event. However, one film, 1964's 'The Outrage'
(starring Paul Newman as a Mexican bandit, no less)...



Here is how all that should have looked: