April 25, 2012: “Jiro Dreams of Sushi”

Not a review here, as I haven’t seen it yet, just what looks to be a fine recommendation from a friend (thanks, Mark) for all the foodies out there, lovers of perfection, Japanese culture, and sushi.

The documentary by David Gelb, “Jiro Dreams of Sushi” revolves around Jiro Owo, who is master sushi chef and owner of Sukiyabashi Jiro” a 10-seat sushi bar in Toyko. Jiro, 85 years old, has devoted his life to the perfection of sushi preparation and still pursuing that goal!

I don’t have the money, right now for this kind of date, but if I had, I would buzz off to Harvard Sq. to see the film, and then visit a sushi bar! If anyone takes me up on my suggestion, let me know what you think of the film!

January 30, 2012: “Letters From Iwo Jima”

I believe that as we get older we have an obligation to become better persons. In youth, we can play the “inexperience card” and mostly get away with it, but as adults, we all know better. We’ve lived life enough to know what is expected of us, we’ve committed those indiscretions of youth and hopefully have learned from them. We should carry the obligation to become better at everything we do, until time robs us of that ability.

How very interesting to have lived enough to observe an individual’s growth from the world of entertainment. Like most young American men of my generation, I was fond of the older films of Clint Eastwood. I think the overt macho, rugged individual-hero male roles he played back then, acted as some kind of weird cultural catharsis to most young men struggling with their own identity in the 70-80′s. Once and a while, I take one of these films out and honestly, now they fall a bit flat. I hope that shows my own personal growth.

I think the choices Mr. Eastwood has made the last few years reflect his own personal growth as well. I adored “Forgiven” when it came out in 1992. Will Money’s anti-hero, struggling with his bad past, trying to become a better person, was just pitch-perfect. I also liked “Gran Torino” (possibly Clint’s last acting role) which showed him as the tough and bigoted lone man, reminiscent of his earlier roles, but also showed a depth of his character as he grows to learn about and care for, the Cambodian family living next door.

I think that consideration of the “other” is also shown in Clint’s production of “Letters From Iwo Jima” which was made back-to-back with the American story of that particular conflict: “Flags of Our Father’s.” “Letters From Iwo Jima” is told from the Japanese side. With that in mind, many Americans will find “LFIJ” to be  bit uncomfortable, as it shows Americans as the invaders. Americans, in this story, are literally the “other.” Iwo Jima, in 1944 may have been a worthless volcanic piece of rock, but it was Japanese soil and this conflict was the Allies first incursion into Japan, proper. A vicious battle, Iwo Jima claimed 40,000 killed or injured men on both sides. I’ve seen some commenters labeling “LFIJ” as “revisionist” saying how evil and vicious the Japanese were during WWII. I have a first-hand account from a much-loved and trusted American man (now passed on) that atrocities were committed on both sides during this conflict. I know that is hard to hear, but I also know it to be the truth.

Although there are a number of interesting side characters in “LFIJ” the main stories surround commanding General Kuribashi (played very well by Ken Wantanabe) and reluctant baker-turned-soldier Saigo (played equally well by Japanese pop-star Kazunari Ninomiya.) The beginning of the film sets these characters well, as the “Letters’ reveal Kuribashi’s concern (at the eve of the battle of his life) to his wife that he didn’t have time to lay the kitchen floor, while Saigo writes of his concern to his wife that the hole he is digging might well be his own grave.

The story continues on. As always I don’t want to give too much away, but one caveat: this IS a war film. War is men at their worst (and rarely and remarkably, men at their best!)  Mr. Eastwood does not shy away from any viewpoint, much to his credit. I’m not so sure that “Letters From Iwo Jima” is history, per se, but it’s damn good cinema.

One lesson that “Letters From Iwo Jima” brings up is one very familiar to me;
“Do what is right because it is right.” This is pretty safe ground for me. But, the film also raises one question that continues to haunt me:  ”In war, do you follow your own convictions…or your country’s?”

June 30, 2011: Akira Kurosawa’s “Ran”

Here’s a premise: take an ancient Celtic legend of a semi-mythical King of Britain (“King Leir”), then have this rewritten 500 years later by the bard William Shakespeare (“King Lear”), then let this steep in literary consciousness for almost 400 years, then have one of the greatest directors of the 20thC. rewrite the story, mixing in a real life 16thC. Japanese historical figure and a “Noh” theatric style. THIS is “Ran” (1985) directed by Akira Kurosawa, as his last truly epic film.

Much like “Saving Private Ryan” “Ran” is a film about a war, but focusing on the ultimate futility of war. Unlike the character of King Lear in Shakespeare’s play, who is basically innocent but gets caught up in the machinations of those around him, the King Hidetora in “Ran” is guilty of horrible crimes against his enemies. He  has built up a karmic debt for all the misery that befalls him and is eventually forced to revisit all of his past violent deeds. Also, unlike “King Lear” in “Ran” instead of daughters showing filial honor/dishonor, it is sons, neatly color-coded to be able to track their armies. Taro (yellow) is the oldest and is first bequeathed the kingdom by Hidetora. Second oldest is Jiro (red) becomes a contender to Taro’s inheritance. Both these older sons pretend devotion to their father, but the minute he relinquishes power, they try to totally exclude him from his own kingdom. Hidetora’s youngest son, Saburo (blue) is truly respectful and  loyal to his father, but is not perceived so by Hidetora, because Saburo tells his father the truth, not what he wants to hear.

Much like the Shakespeare play, “Ran” is full of delicious minor characters that flesh out the play. There is the clown, Kyomi, who has both funny and poignant moments. Lady  Kaede is truly Machiavellian: a physically and mentally worthy villain, and one of the strongest woman characters in cinema. As evil as she is, Kaede acts not without reason as Hidetora has destroyed her family. Kaede is offset by Lady Sue, while suffering the same loss at Hidetora’s hands, has adopted Buddhist ways and is a truly good and forgiving person. My favorite is Kurogare, Jiro’s vassal, who constantly gives the best advice (that Jiro foolishly never takes)  and pits himself against the evils of Lady Kaede.

“Ran” which means “chaos” or “revolt” has some of the best battle scenes in cinema. Grand in scale, it’s hard to believe Kurosawa could pull a film of this magnitude off in a pre-digital era, like: building a $1.5 million castle just to burn it to the ground! 1500 extras, 250 horses, beautiful costumes, gorgeous sets, “Ran” is huge!!! If you want to see a film the way they used to make them (and really never will again) see Kurosawa’s “Ran!”

May 12, 2011: Movie Review “Grave of the Fireflies”

I’ve never been a huge anime fan, but I try to stay open to film styles in general. I remember seeing “Spirited Away” (2001) in theaters and enjoyed it, so when I found consistent high ratings for “Grave of the Fireflies” (1988) I was intrigued.

The story is set place  in Japan, 1945, at the end of WWII. The main characters are Seita, a boy of about 12 years old and his sister, Setsuko who is about 3-4 years old. I’m not giving anything away by saying that the whole film is a series of events before the two children’s death, as Seita’s first words recount that this is the night he died and with Setsuko’s absence, her death is implied as well. So, I want to be upfront and say that “Grave of the Fireflies” is not the most “cheery” film out there, but rather, is a poignant study of effects of war on innocents and the nobility of humans struggling under hard conditions.

The city of Kobe, where Seita and Setsuko live, is firebombed and they lose their mother. Their father is absent serving in the military, so they are sent to their aunt’s house in Nishinomiya. The unsympathetic aunt plays a kind of subtle wicked stepmother who resents the added burden of the extra kids in a time of shortages of war. Seita picks up on this, and has the idea of moving he and his sister to a nearby shelter in the woods. At first, this is a kind of an adventure which gives the children freedom to explore  life in kind of Tom Sawyer way. They have time to establish themselves, experience nature and reminisce about the better times of their life. They find  a nearby field full of  fireflies that they capture to fill their shelter with their light. The next day, as Setsuko is burying the dead fireflies, Seita finds out that the aunt has told Setsuko that their mother is dead (something Seita desperately wanted to spare Setsuko.) Eventually, conditions decay. Despite Seita’s best efforts, Setsuko is wasting away from malnutrition and soon she dies.

Despite this rather morose setup, “Grave of the Fireflies” is, surprisingly, a film about the beauty of those simple moments of life that we all take for granted: playing on the beach, the sour taste of  pickled plum, chasing butterflies, the playfulness of our children, the sweet taste of fruit drops, the memories that fill our life…and if you’ve ever spent a night in a field of fireflies you understand the magic of nature. All this, and more, is packed into “Grave of the Fireflies” while not ignoring the sadness inherent in life.

“Grave of the Fireflies” is not quite a perfect film. Viewers will find at least one major logic flaw that momentarily  detracts from the story line, but what the film lacks in logic, it makes up for in heart. One comment that I have read over and over is that “Grave of the Fireflies” is one of those films that sits with the viewer for some time after. It is based on the novel by Akiyuki Nosaka who, during the war, lost his younger sister to malnutrition in a similar way that Seita loses Setsuko. The novel was Nosaka’s way to come to terms with this.

I’ve always considered that fireflies were (at least partial)  inspiration to the plethora of Edwardian faery stories. Certainly, any creature that manufactures its own light to shine as a beacon, as it flies through the night air, is envocative of many things to the human imagination: magical spirits, ghosts, the soul, etc. As she is burying the fireflies, Setsuko asks Seita “Why do all the fireflies die so soon?” A very human question indeed…but, of course, we are all fireflies.

March 08, 2011: Kurosawa’s “Seven Samurai”

When I found my library stocked Akira Kurosawa’s “Seven Samurai” I was psyched! When I found that this Criterion Collection had 3 DVDs stocked with extras including a tag-team of different commentators, and several documentaries about Kurosawa, I was even more excited! Imagine having everything I could possibly want to know about one of the greatest films, by one of the world’s greatest directors (“SS” was one of Kurosawa’s personal favorites.) Before you see “SS,” try to get the Criterion version which has the full 3+1/2 hours of Kurosawa’s vision. I know, 3+1/2 hours of a foreign film seems like a lot, but honestly, when it was over, I could have easily watched more. Most of the reason it has to be this long is “SS” has many good characters (in addition to the main seven samurai, there are many villagers) who play important roles and are worth every bit of Kurosawa’s rich exploration and development.

“Seven Samurai (1954)” is considered by many to be the greatest Japanese film ever made. It revolutionized Kurosawa’s career and allowed him to make the “Jidai Geki” or “Period-style Film” truly his own. “SS” went on to inspire many films, (the first being its American remake “The Magnificent Seven” 1960.)

The story takes place in 1467, feudal Japan, during a time of civil war. “Ronin” or masterless samurai, threaten to sack a village of farmers as soon as the harvest is in. The farmers, incapable of defending themselves, attempt to bribe other starving “ronin” with their meager supplies of food too help defend their village, when the time comes to do so. The villagers are impressed with the heroic actions of Kanbê (played by Takashi Shimura) a samurai who rescues a woman and her child from a kidnapper, by posing as a Buddhist monk. Kanbê proves to be everything right with the code of Bushido (warrior code of ethics of a samurai) he lives by. He is wise, strong, even-tempered, kind, patient, funny, a brilliant strategist, and a perfect leader. He puts other ronin through trials to test their spirit and ability and soon comes up with a team of seven to help the villagers. Each of these has a distinct personality and ability that adds to the group. These skills will all come into play as the bandits raiding the village outnumber the samurai about 6:1!

This film has been criticized as being anti-democratic, but I think that falls a little flat considering the time period Kurosawa made this. Certainly, a anti-democratic film would do nothing for Japan, at this time, and would have been a flop in foreign markets, if this were true. I think “Seven Samurai” is a film about people at their best: individuals who come together with stoicism under hard times. The seven become a group to protect the defenseless with strength, honor and integrity. The film actually shows the flaws of a feudal caste system and the ultimate downfall of the samurai because of them.

A suggestion: watch it through and then watch it again with the commentary, which is full of insights of Japanese culture and history and tons of film facts! While doing research for this article, I found another remake is in production this year, set in modern day Thailand. No, PLEASE! Not necessary! I guess Hollywood is running outta good stories!

…and if the term “Jidai Geki” seems a little familiar to you, so did it to me, as well. A little checking on the “Star Wars” fanboy sites confirmed that this is where Lucas came up with the term: “Jedi!”

February 03, 2011: Review of “Silk”

Every once in a while it’s good to review a film that maybe not everyone will like or even appreciate. Such a film is “Silk” (2007) directed by François Girard and starring Michael Pitt as Hervé Joncour and Kiera Knightly as his wife, Hélène.

Set in the 1860′s and starting in Eastern France, the story is of the struggle to get silk production going in France. The French silkworms are dying from a disease and the only option is for someone to go to the orient to obtain a new crop of eggs. Under the direction of the local silk weaver, Baldabiou (Alfred Molina) the town sends the mayor’s son, Hervé, across Europe, through the steeps of Russia and clandestinely into Japan. There, Hervé meets the local daimyo (local samurai leader) and a mysterious girl that he is drawn to. The first trip is a success, but future trips by Hervé are needed, each time leaving Hélène behind, Hervé also faces increasing dangers as a rebellion starts up in Japan. It is clear that for each of these trips, Hervé is falling more and more for “the girl” (he never learns her name.)

Classifying this movie is challenging. Mmmmm…well, take a Merchant/Ivory film, throw in a little sex, OR take “The Last Samurai” and remove every single action sequence and cast the lead as a sort of “anti-Cruise.” One of the films biggest problems is Michael Pitt as the lead Hervé. I don’t ever remember a lead with more of a deadpan, stale delivery. Susie Figgis has cast many a good many leads in her career, and I guess everyone has her off day, but what were you thinking casting Pitt against the likes of Knightly and Alfred Molina. There’s one scene where Molina does more with a cigar and his eyebrows than what Pitt can dig up with his spoken lines!

OK, so one poor choice doesn’t have to ruin the whole film. I haven’t read the book (by  Alessandro Baricco, which I understand is much better than the film…as they usually are) but the story is OK. Again, think Merchant/Ivory. If you like those you probably will like this one. One thing: the film is shot beautifully! The steeps of Russia, Winter in pre-industrial Japan, Summer in the East of France…just gorgeous! I liked the music choices, costumes, the general high production value, and I even appreciated (after a few seconds) the deliberate choice NOT to have subtitles of the Japanese, which made the story more authentic.

So.”Silk.” Not for everyone. A decent rental. Make it a weekend when you have had plenty of sleep and settle in for a slow-moving, but gorgeous film with a few flaws.

October 17, 2010: Kobayashi’s “Hara Kiri”

Although, Masaki Kobayashi’s “Hara Kiri” is a dramatic and telling film, let’s get two problems with it out of the way: the first is the title. I recognize that “Hara Kiri” (literally “slit-belley”) was probably a more known term, by Westerners, as the name for the Japanese ceremony of “seppuku” or ritual self-disembowelment of a samurai warrior for some disgrace or failure. “Hara kiri” is the more rude form of the word and although Westerners may not be able to understand the reasoning of such an act, you can’t deny the strength and fortitude of someone committed to such an act, so let’s give it the respect of at least the proper name. Also, in my ongoing struggle with the translators, I don’t know what the characters are actually saying, but I’m pretty sure that terms like “lily-livered” and “upsy-daisy” were not spoken in 17thC. feudal Japan (in fact…I don’t think they are so common phrases today in Western vernacular)!

So, vernacular aside, “Hara Kiri” is a good film about the struggle of individual man against the power of the state. In this sense, “Hara Kiri” is a kind of anti-samurai movie, showing how a totalitarian state disregards the struggles of individuals under its government. When you see the empty samurai uniform on display in the governor’s mansion, it represents everything the state can be at its worst: big, scary, threatening…but totally empty and devoid of any feeling or soul.

The film starts with a “ronin” (masterless samurai) by the name of Hanshiro Tsugumo visiting the household of Lord Seito, who is the leader of the ruling Iyi family. As a ronin, Hanshiro is down on his luck and asks to perform seppuku in the courtyard of the household, due to the shame of his position. Lord Seito is counseled by his retainers that this is a gambit by Hanshiro to either gain a position in the government, or else be given a handout and suggests that he be allowed to continue with his self-execution or else word will spread and other ronin will be drawn as “ants to a mound of sugar.”

To scare Hanshiro off, Lord Seito tells a story of an earlier visit by another ronin, by the name of Motome who tried the very same gambit, and whose bluff was called with the most dire consequences. It turns out that Motome had pawned his swords and had replaced his swords with bamboo ones. As  a samurai’s sword is his “soul” in this culture, Motome reeks disdain from the Iyi family and is ordered to proceed seppuku with a blade that “couldn’t cut tofu!”

Hanshiro is not put off by the story and is committed to proceed, with the only request that he only be able to tell a story. In that story, Hanshiro reveals his own agenda, and his history with the  ronin, Motome.

One caution with this film: Motome’s self-execution, while very essential to the storyline…it is very hard to watch! There’s something about that scene that made me squirm more than any of the  ”Saw” or “Hostel” type films ever could!

September 07, 2010: Kurosawa’s “Sanjuro”

I am slowly working my way through all the Kurosawa films that I have missed seeing over the years as well as revisiting some old favorites. Last week I saw “Sanjuro” from 1961. Sanjuro is a story of a conflict between a samurai clan’s chamberlain and superintendent. It seems that when the clan’s leader is out of town, these two are in charge and there has been corruption to the point that nine retainers take it into their own hand to find out who, and deal with the culprit. The nine young men meet clandestinely to discuss their plans. Unknown to them, is a ronin (a masterless samurai who is Sanjuro, played by Toshiro Mifune) who is sleeping in another room and who overhears their plans. The retainers have already picked the superintendent as the innocent one (mostly on the basis of his good looks) and are prepared to go against the chamberlain. Out steps Sanjuro, unkempt, scratching, and moody (as they have woken him up) to tell them that they are all wrong and why. This starts a pattern that runs throughout the film: the young men, making spontaneous decisions and running pell-mell into trouble with Sanjuro pulling them back and saving their lives over and over. Of course, the young retainers initially  stand up to Sanjuro, but as he almost immediately saves their lives, they quickly trust him and he becomes their ad hoc leader. The group cannot rescue the chamberlain from the superintendent’s retainers, but they can save his wife and daughter. These two add a much-needed yin to an (up to this point) yang energy. The mother chastises Sanjuro for being “too sharp, like a sword” after he has killed several men in their rescue and reminds him that “good swords are kept in their scabbards.” They also coax Sanjuro’s name out of him. Up to this point of the film the ronin is the quintessential “man with no name” prevalent in many of Kurosawa’s films as well as many of the Sergio Leone spaghetti westerns. Looking out into a courtyard, he sees a camilla tree and proclaims his name to be “Tsubaki Sajuro” (“Camilla 30-year-old”.)

“Sanjuro” has a good story, fine acting, good fight scenes, but I was most surprised (and pleased) by the understated humor: Sanjuro’s lackadaisical, unkempt manner is fun to watch Mifune perform. His constant attempts to catch a nap, while receiving constant “reports” from the retainers is a riot, but the most amusing was the captured guard from the superintendent’s side who would act as a mini Greek chorus, except he is constantly banished (or is banishing himself) to the closet.

Two small criticisms of “Sanjuro”: One is that, as a non-Japanese speaker, I rely on the subtitles to relay accurate meaning. When a character is subtitled as saying “No, No” when even my unpracticed ear hears “Yes, Yes” it throws the whole trust in the translators away. Also, I thought it odd that Sanjuro could put away a room full of men with absolutely no blood on him, his sword or the men! I had no idea that Kurosawa was saving all the blood for the final showdown with the superintendent’s chief henchman. Then it comes across as cartoonish, a Monty Python-like caricature. Other than these two faults, Sanjuro is a good period piece, well worth a rental.

August 25, 2010: The Flavor of Green Tea Over RIce

I was pleased to have Isaac, Sarah, and Matt over for dinner, last week. In keeping with my “Summer on a Stick” unconscious theme I have going, I made:

• Grilled Fennel and Papaya Skewers in Lime-butter
• Grilled Onion and Chicken Skewers in Lemon-Pepper Sauce
• Greek Pasta Salad
• Chilled Chai sweetened with Coconut Milk

In addition to their wonderful company, these guys really know their movies and in addition to taking some well deserved teasing about Netflixing “Furry Vengeance” I walked away with a list of really good films to add to my list. Seeing Isaac reminded me of a wonderful movie he bequeathed to me a while back, Yasujiro Ozu’s  1952 “Ochazuke No Aji” or “The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice.”

It seems many critics of this film attack the perils of arranged marriages, and while yes, that’s a part of movie, I think these critics are missing the larger points that Ozu is addressing about the everyday pitfalls of not only marriage, but relationships in general. The married leads Mokichi and Taeko have their issues:. Mokichi tends to be a rather distant to his wife, and for Taeko, nothing Mokichi does is OK. From the brand of cigarette he smokes, the 3rd class train that he travels in, even how he eats his food and the food he enjoys is 3rd rate. Her friends Aya and Takaka are little help. Themselves products of arranged marriages, one of their husband seems to have  a permanent residence in France, and the other is a liar and a cheat. Even the couple’s niece, Setusko who seems to dearly care for her aunt and uncle cannot bring them together.

The bulk of the film describes the relationship for the leads and everyone in their lives, along the way, one sees a lot of Japanese life and customs of, at least, the early 50′s: The spas, the pachinko parlors and the restaurant “Calorie House”, where they hang out. The entertainment of the race track (funny, it’s bikes they are racing. I wonder if this is a 50′s thing?) Home life and even a typical business is explored and worth watching, if only to catch the “Willy Wonka” theme played ad infinitum in the pachinko parlor, and I wonder if a modern Japanese launches into song so readily as they do in the film? I’ll have to ask Yoshio, Teja, Miguel, and Pam if these are true to life.

Mokichi and Taeko reach their biggest hurdle when Taeko goes away for some alone time at the same time Mokichi is given the dictate by his company to pack up and move away to S. America ASAP! As Taeko misses (or ignores) Mokichi’s telegram she returns home to find her husband gone, perhaps forever. Luckily, Mokichi’s plane is delayed, giving the couple one last chance for make or break.

The title of the movie is made clear as the couple struggle to make the dish without waking up their maid. Their final accord is a sweet and intimate encounter and a good example of how making and sharing food can communicate understanding and the importance of the familiar…and reliable!

June 29, 2010: Akira Kurosawa’s “Dreams”

While my muse Yoshio is away leading a group around Japan, I’ve had to come up with other inspirations to explore Japanese food and culture on my own. It occurs to me that I have not yet reviewed one of my favorite Japanese films, that of Akira Kurosawa’s “Dreams”  from 1990. If a culture reveals itself through its stories, and a person reveals himself  through his dreams (really a story that one tells oneself) what better way to get a glimpse of a culture via a recounting of a person dreams, most particularly when that dreamer is one of the best film makers of not only a country but the world at large!

For that is exactly what “Dreams” is about: it is a retelling of dreams Kurosawa had, told chronologically, throughout his life. Kurosawa captures the flavor and the “language” of dreams: their pacing, weirdness, and use of symbol to try to make sense of our world (often through non-sense) and to reveal our concerns, fears, and ultimate wishes. Although I own this beautiful and telling film, I confess that I find I have to be in the mood for it, as it often moves slowly, capturing as it does the meditative effect that dreams have, rich in detail.

Sunshine Through the Rain: In this dream, Kurosawa is a boy who ventures out on a day that is raining, although the sun is shining. He is warned by his mother that he shouldn’t go out on such a day as the foxes celebrate their wedding ceremonies, and it is forbidden to view them. This only increases the boy’s desire to see such an event. Walking through a rainy and fog-filled redwood forest he finds a troop of magical “kitsune” or people-foxes parading through the forest in wedding procession. Trying to remain hidden, the boy is inevitably seen by the troop. Returning home, the boy is told by his mother that she was visited by a fox who told her that she cannot let him in. She then presents him with a blade and he is instructed to kill himself for his transgression. She tells him, they may forgive them, but he must find them first, where they live under a rainbow. This dream shows a childhood awe of magic, the fear of banishment from the hearth and home, and the lure of the unknown.

The Peach Orchard In this dream, Kurosawa is still a boy. He is serving his sister and her friends who are celebrating “Doll Festival.” He sees an “extra” girl who the others do not see. Following the girl outside, she leads him to the family’s destroyed peach orchard, where the “dolls” pictured earlier have come to life. The “dolls” say they are the spirits of the trees come back and admonish the boy for the orchard’s destruction. Kurosawa, as the boy, begins to cry and is further admonished by the ‘dolls” that he is crying because he will miss the peaches the grove supplied. When the boy says that he is crying because he will miss the orchard’s beauty at blossom time, the dolls grant him one last view of the orchard as he remembered it. When the vision subsides, he finds the “extra” girl has been turned into the only remaining tree left in the orchard. This dream explores themes of loss of childhood (and childhood memories), again the awe of magic, regeneration through our youth, and the mystic of the feminine world.

The Blizzard In this dream, Kurosawa is a young man, on a mountaineering trip through the Japanese Alps. The group of men are linked together and in dire straights: they are lost, fatigued, cold and desperate. Also, there is an approaching storm and if they cannot find their base, they are lost forever. To make things worse, in the middle of the storm, all his men fall asleep from exhaustion. Trying to revive them Kurosawa is confronted by a “snow fairy” who tries to lull him to sleep also, saying that ” The snow is warm. The ice is hot.” Shaking himself from her spell, the storm suddenly clears. In this dream, Kurosawa’s famous use of color is absent. There is only the blue of a cold world of ice and snow. He uses sound well in this story: for minutes at a time all that can be heard is the labored breathing of the men and the clank of equipment, followed by the roar of the storm that suddenly becomes quiet as the “snow fairy” sings. This dream explores man’s fear of nature as well as the “kami” (spirits) that inhabit it.

The Tunnel Kurosawa is an army commander returning home from the war. He comes upon a tunnel guarded by a fierce dog carrying hand grenades across it’s back (literally a “dog of war” or perhaps Cerberus, the guardian of the underworld.) Getting around the dog he passes through the tunnel. On the other side he hears a noise in the tunnel behind him and out steps the ghost of one of his former men. The ghost is trying to return home and as he cannot find his way, he pleads with his former commander to help him. The commander explains to the ghost that he has died and must return through he tunnel. The ghost reluctantly does, but soon returns with the rest of his platoon. The commander explains that it was through his error that the whole troop was annihilated,  begs their forgiveness, and persuades them to return. As they recede down the tunnel the snarling figure of the dog returns. This dream explores the longing for home, fear of death, honor, guilt, and the futility of war.

Crows In this dream, Kurosawa is still a young man, a painter (that Kurosawa was before he broke into movies) that is visiting a museum showing the works of Van Gogh. Able to enter the world of the paintings the man goes off in search of Van Gogh himself. This is probably the least favorite dream in the series for most people due to two things: the digital effects of the “painting world” seem a little dated to modern viewers,( but remember this film was made 1990, really the birth of digital cinematography.) Also, the person playing Van Gogh…well..I don’t want to give it away, but I found it more humorous than distracting. This dream explores the passion for art, the drive to excel, hero-worship and our desire to be inspired.

I confess, I usually skip over the next two as I find these the most depressing as they deal with the threat of nuclear annihilation in Mt Fuji in Red and it’s after effects in The Weeping Demon. They are both worth a watch for first time viewers, as some people say that these are their favorites.

Village of the Watermills is perhaps my favorite of the lot. Kurosawa enters a peaceful and beautiful village that has a stream running though it, powering a series of watermills. He meets a very old man who is repairing one of the watermills. The old man describes his life in the village. The village has no electricity, no modern conveniences of any sort, yet the people remain very happy and live a long, full life due to their natural existence. The dream ends with a burial of the old man’s former lover. Instead of a solemn occasion, the whole village comes out with a happy parade, celebrating the woman’s life. Of course this dream represents an ideal of the way of life that a lot of us would want to live: free from the trappings of modern life and the stresses our modern “solutions” really end up making our lives more (not less as they were designed) complicated. Yes, an ideal…but a very beautiful one.