November 21, 2011

Kagemusha

Last night my buddy Tom and I watched Akira Kurosawa's film Kagemusha (1980). I've heard it said that it's not Kurosawa's best, and I agree, this is true. It doesn't have the engaging narrative and lively characters that mark his earlier films. But I want to reflect briefly on a few of Kagemusha's merits, because there are a few cinematic gems buried in there.

The film is set in 16th century Japan, before the nation was unified. From start to finish, the turmoil and bloodshed wax in intensity. In my first watch-through, it felt like the film's structure was built on a slow swell toward chaos. For example, the film gradually shifts its focus from the narratives of individual characters to the broader conflicts at large – from warlords, doubles, and fiefs, to battles and burning castles. I see this as Kurosawa's interpretation of the unification conflict itself, as the warlords' own identities and meanings were unmoored and swallowed up in forces beyond their control. It's a movement from control and coherence into chaos.

Aside from that reflection, there were two parts I found especially satisfying. The first was the opening scene, where Warlord Shingen and his brother, Nobukado, convince the thief Kagemusha to act as a double for the Warlord. Kurosawa shot the scene in one long take, from one camera angle. The room is bare, and the characters hardly move from their seats. Its almost excruciatingly slow, lending a certain gravity to every gesture and movement. The scene feels like it was shot for the stage, which I think is the point. Each of the men is set up as an actor playing on the stage of Japan's history, in events well beyond their control.

The second scene I'll note happened about a quarter of the way into the film. It's when the sniper who shoots Shingen explains to his superiors how he executed the shot in the dark. I find it a brilliant moment in the film, again emphasizing the impact that the genius and wit of one character can have on events and circumstances that are far larger than himself.

This seems like enough reflection for now. I'll close by saying that Kagemusha is worth watching as a snapshot in Kurosawa's career, but I recommend Seven Samurai and Hidden Fortress as superior films.

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