Retro Review: Rashomon (1950)

A battle takes place in one account of the same story in Akira Kurosawa's "Rashomon"

It is Rashomon, a film that opens so beautifully and remains that way for its entire running time, which reminds us of how affecting simplicity in the movies can be. It is a film by Akira Kurosawa, of course, and the one that brought attention to the Japanese director in the West when it came to the surface in 1951. He would go on to become one of Japan’s most respected filmmakers. If this is where the rest of world got their first glimpse of Kurosawa, it rings true that this is still a good place to start.

Rain pours in torrents in the opening moments of Rashomon, and the instant appeal comes from the way the whole thing looks. It is magnificently shot, in black and white, each frame as fine-looking as the best photographs. The camera has been placed with such care that it is noticeable from the off. Kurosawa understands the importance of how we see something – it is, in fact, the theme of the film.

We are introduced to three characters, a woodsman, a priest and a drifter. The woodsman and the priest are amidst a personal crisis – a woman has been raped, and her husband murdered. The woodsman found the body. The drifter wants to know why the pair are so miserable. It turns out that they don’t understand the circumstances of the incident – “I just don’t understand,” is the first line of the film – and are trying to put the pieces together. And so a mystery begins, and we are invited to listen to various accounts of the tale from the perspectives of those involved. But who, we ask, is telling the truth?

That we might never know is actually the point. As simple stories are recounted (in this case, to an off-camera court), Kurosawa cleverly reveals everything but really says nothing. We hear from the raped woman, a bandit, and even the ghost of the dead husband who speaks to the court through a medium, but all the time we are never really sure of the true events that took place. The genius lies within the fact that the camera is stripped of its usual role - playing the neutral eye. Instead, it becomes subject to lies and perspective, and shows us only what the characters want us to see.

Rashomon influenced many modern contemporaries, the most famous of which is Bryan Singer’s The Usual Suspects. It was also remade as western The Outrage, which starred Paul Newman. But where most imitators rely on complex details and unforeseen twists, it is here that a now tired formula thrives. The story here is deeply poignant, tactically simple, and manages to be both riveting and distressing. It is also a masterpiece of mood, to be remembered not only for its story but for its use of cinematography. There is something deep and unexplainable about its power, and its willingness to explore multiple angles in such a direct way. To call it Kurosawa’s masterwork may not be far off. What can be said for sure? That Rashomon might be the most important film about perspective ever made. (*****)