MovieChat Forums > Hakuchi (1963) Discussion > DVD from Eclipse (Update: release due J...

DVD from Eclipse (Update: release due Jan. 15, 2008)


THE IDIOT will be released by Criterion's Eclipse label as part of its box set, POSTWAR KUROSAWA, also including NO REGRETS FOR OUR YOUTH, ONE WONDERFUL SUNDAY, SCANDAL and I LIVE IN FEAR. Likely release is in January 2008, though no specific date has been announced as of this posting. (Sad to say, THE IDIOT is the one klunker in the set, and one of the very few in Kurosawa's distinguished career. Still, any Kurosawa is worth watching.)

10/30/07 UPDATE -- set coming out 1/15/08.

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Okay, you have a point -- "klunker" is too strong a word. But it is unquestionably one of the least good and least successful of K's works, as even he admitted. Even the Eclipse description of the film is very restrained, a damning-with-faint-praise sort of review. As I said previously, any Kurosawa is worth seeing but HAKUCHI/THE IDIOT is probably the weakest film the director ever made. When Kurosawa himself, who was very protective of and a bit touchy about his work, said he found the film a disappointment, then it's fair to say this is inferior Kurosawa. No one, in American or Japanese baseball, ever bats .1000.

The five films in this set are the last five of Kurosawa's films made after WWII never to have been released on DVD (after DRUNKEN ANGEL makes its Criterion debut later this month), so it's great to have them all in one set. Now for the release of his wartime films -- which is another rumored Kurosawa box...sometime, maybe.

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Well, hello again Hob, fancy finding you here. I'm afraid I simply can't let this "klunker" stuff pass without a few words of admonition. First of all, if you think "The idiot" is bad, check out "Scandal", "Dreams", Rhapsody in August", or, my own pet-hate, "I live in fear". At least "The idiot" has some ambition.

I'm afraid it's also not quite right to say that Kurosawa himself didn't like the movie: it was actually his favourite - or, to be more correct, his original four-and-a-half hour cut was. The problem he had was that he considered Dostoevsky to be the greatest novelist ever, and saw a chance to adapt his particular favourite book. Shochiku gave him the go-ahead, and were happy to give him carte blanche, since he was able to schedule all the shooting through one winter in Hokkaido (hence the permanent snow - I presume you know how important extremes of weather are in Kurosawa movies), and keep costs right down. Unfortunately, the producers took one look at the cut he handed in and knew it couldn't be commercially shown. To prove the point, they screened it once, to a "general public" audience (which Kurosawa always claimed was rigged) and got the expected response: mass walk-outs and sleep-ins. A fortnight later (honestly), they had cut a hundred minutes from the running time, introducing completely random intertitles, voice-overs and more uses of the wipe than you will see in a Warners thriller from the thirties. Kurosawa was so furious he refused to work for the studio ever again, a decision which caused him a good deal of bother in the seventies when they were the only Japanese studio prepared to finance him, after the monetary disaster of "Dod-es-ka'den" (he eventually prefered to shoot the awesome "Dersu Uzala" for SovKino in the USSR).

Eventually he relented, and agreed to make "Rhapsody..." for Shochiko in '89, although, as he himself admitted, less for any artistic reasons than because it gave him a chance to root around in the archives for the missing footage of "The idiot". He never did find it, and no-one else has, either, so, rather like Erich Von Stroheim's "Greed" (another film made from a novel beloved of its director, who obviously didn't know when to stop), we will almost certainly never see what was intended.

What remains, however, isn't too bad at all. You need to have read the novel to understand the plot, I grant you, and you need to put up with long scenes of interminable talk, but when the picture does move, I think it's splendid, and splendidly held together by Masayuki Mori as Myshkin. Plus, it has a very rare instance of Kurosawa actually casting Toshiro Mifune (as Rogogine) to type, rather than forcing him to play against his regular image as a tough guy.

Since I know from our previous discussions about "Beyond a reasonable doubt" that you are a literate and intelligent fellow, please give this film another chance: it will reward you.

Thomas

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Thomas, I was thinking about you yesterday as I wrote that last post -- this is too odd, even though people tell me they're convinced I'm slghtly psychic (among other things!). Anyway....

I shall certainly be giving HAKUCHI another look anyway, when the set comes out, and you are correct, additional viewings are always a good idea. In fact it's been many years since I saw this film, and I saw it only once, unlike virtually all his other work. (The only K. film I've never seen is his apparently-unavailable-in-the-West 1944 THE MOST BEAUTIFUL, which sounds excellent from what I've heard -- evidently it's not even available in Japan, but only on a Hong Kong DVD dubbed in Chinese, with the characters given Chinese names! This is a hoped-for addition to any set of his wartime films that may one day materialize.)

Your in-depth description of his trials and tribulations re Shochiku are fascinating -- I was aware of his problems with the studio about the length of his original cut, but never realized the extent of his sulkiness toward them and his decision to film RHAPSODY IN AUGUST only to give him access to their archives for missing IDIOT footage. K was rather high-strung, of course (notably in his suicide attempt over the contretemps surrounding his participation in filming TORA! TORA! TORA!), so none of this is surprising.

Since you were kind enough to compliment me (or should I say bait me?!) about being intellignet and literate, I'll immodestly (and it is immodest) add that I read "The Idiot" only once, well over 30 years ago, in the original Russian, which I studied. Unfortunately that has had the regrettable effect that I have retained somewhat less of the story's detail as the years have gone by and my Russian has become a bit rusty, especially since the Soviet Union collapsed and I am no longer called upon to spy for them. [Note to the Bush administration officials reading this: that was a joke.] But I of course know the story and it will be refreshing to see K's take on it in the light of greater Kurosawa experience than I possessed when last I saw it.

(Okay, bad joke: many years ago an American satirical magazine called The National Lampoon printed a phony catalogue from the USSR's old GUM department store, full of shoddy, cumbersome and ridiculous consumer goods, such as thermal underwear that was equipped with hot plates plugged into a nearby outlet, a chemical refrigerator that operated by winding it every 45 minutes, clothes made of nougat, etc. Their priciest item was an automobile equipped with 23 headlights, a steering wheel, and brakes that "dig deeply into the pavement for quick, sure stops." The vehicle's name: the "Four-Door Dostoyevsky".)

Yep, intelligent and literate, c'est moi.

Back to Kurosawa-san for a moment. I didn't dislike RHAPSODY, I found it interesting, though like all his later work well below what he made in his heyday. DREAMS -- okay, not too good. But I strongly disagree with you about I LIVE IN FEAR (RECORD OF A LIVING BEING), which I think is superb (albeit with a rather over-the-top finale), especially Mifune's stunning performance. And I also disagree with you about SCANDAL, which I was prepared to dislike until I saw it some years ago (as I was with ONE WONDERFUL SUNDAY, until I saw it). I actually think SCANDAL is a very underrated, enjoyable and rewarding film, perhaps (like Billy Wilder's ACE IN THE HOLE) more relevant today than in 1950, and ask you to give it another try. More straightforward in its story and development, perhaps, than most of his contemporary films, but nonetheless good for all that.

I will no doubt appall you by saying that one of my least favorite of all Kurosawa's works is, of all things, RASHOMON, whose imagery I admire but which I find in parts slow and uninvolving. I realize this casts me somewhere amongst the Dantean depths in most people's eyes, but to me the film -- which, do not misunderstand me, I think is indeed very good -- has a touch of tedium here and there and is simply not quite as enjoyable as -- and a tad more pretentious than -- most of his other works. Of course, I own it (I own all but three of K's films from 1943-1965), and it is in many respects marvelous, but I don't hold it in quite the level of esteem most of the world does.

Feel free to revoke your compliment about intelligent and literate at any time!

No, my "essential Kurosawa" runs to such masterpieces as STRAY DOG, IKIRU, SEVEN SAMURAI, THE BAD SLEEP WELL, HIGH AND LOW, RED BEARD, among others. RASHOMON, alas, lurks somewhere on the low end of my Kurosawa preferences. Or perhaps, it's my normal reaction to anything I find over-praised or overly-singled out -- I tend to shy away from it a bit, and seek out less-discussed or -appreciated items. For instance, SCANDAL. But isn't it nice to have a filmmaker of such great and versatile talents that there is a wealth of material to assess and enjoy? Even in his weaker films, there's always something worth seeing.

Wonder how Dana A. would have fared in, say, THRONE OF BLOOD?



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Intelligent and literate and a fan of National Lampoon. That's okay. It was "Mad" magazine for me when I was younger. Hilarious stuff.

Massively impressed at your Russian ability. Especially if you could read someone like Dostoevsky in the original. He's difficult enough in English, although I actually share Kurosawa's taste here: my favourite novelist, too (and, of all the screen adaptations of his work I have seen, "The idiot" is comfortably the least bad - although there's much to be said for Kaurismaki's characteristically gnomic version of "Crime and punishment"). Did you have to fight through other great Russians - Gorky, Turgenev, Tolstoy, perhaps?

I fully admit to a complete blind spot when it comes to "I live in fear". I would never dream of trying to put anyone else off it, it's just, as I said, a pet hate. Listen, Tosh, there are nuclear bombs about. Deal with it. Or organize a protest against them. Just do something. It's a film I simply want to pick up and give a good shaking to. It may also be a good one, but I can never get past that basic visceral reaction (it's exactly the same with Vittorio de Sica's "Umberto D", but that's probably for another day and another board).

"Scandal", however, I am prepared to put up an argument over. That and "The idiot" have been out here on stand-alone discs for a couple of years (put out by a company called Eureka, who are kind of a high-brow version of Criterion), and I went and bought them, never having seen "Scandal" before. I remain, I'm sorry to say, unimpressed. I understand that Kurosawa is making a comment on the gradual, post-war Americanisation of Japan, from Tosh's motorbike and "new" paintings, to the spread of scandal mags and the corruption of the judicial system, and all of this is interesting and worthwhile. His method of putting the stuff across, though, I have more difficulty with. Shirley Yamaguchi, the reclusive pop singer wandering up a mountainside singing her little heart out (as you do); Tosh's brooding, intense painter, given to long, shouty monologues about the "state of the Japanese nude"; and the fact that the second half, as soon as Takeshi Shimura arrives, has almost nothing to do with the first: all of these things make me chortle. And then Yoko Katsuragi dying of tuberculosis, which just allows young Akira to go off on one of his deeply unattractive sentimentality jags. I like the way Kurosawa uses American film-making techniques (especially in the editing) to tell the story (like "Beyond a reasonable doubt", allying style and content), but it all seems to me too funny, I'm afraid. A touch of Billy Wilder's acerbic talent would have gone a long way (no-one ever died tearfully in his films).

And one other thing: I came across your post while trawling early Kurosawa boards because I was off to watch "The silent duel" last night, which I hadn't seen before. I frankly wasn't expecting much, but I thought it was very good - and a stunning performance from Tosh, there, really, really well controlled.

Anyway, that's more than enough for now.

Thomas

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It was "Mad" for me too, pre-Lampoon. Very funny stuff there, too.

One thing I find an interesting sidelight to I LIVE IN FEAR is the then-prevalent concept that a nuclear war would involve only the nations of the Northern Hemisphere, leaving the South untouched. Mifune's character's desire to move to Brazil was actually in keeping with what a sizable number of Japanese did, for varying reasons. (Brazil does in fact have a large Japanese expat community; I even recall the tale of a Japanese soldier, Hiroo Onoda I believe his name was -- don't ask how I even recall such a thing -- who was discovered and "captured" in the Phillippines in 1972 after following his "no-surrender" orders since 1945. He returned to Japan hailed as a hero, but after eight or nine months announced he was leaving his native country for the by-now more comfortable climes of the Brazilian jungle, to live in a Japanese farming community. Apparently he found modern Japan so far removed from the nation he had known 30 years earlier -- as indeed it was -- that he decided it was corrupt, materialistic and spiritually bankrupt. And to think, had he only surrendered in '45 like everyone else, he might have risen to the chairmanship of Toyota.)

Anyway, that notion of a "nuclear-free" Southern Hemisphere is largely what prompted Nevil Shute, once he'd relocated to Australia, to write "On the Beach" -- basically as a means of diabusing southerners of their quaint ideas that they could somehow escape a nuclear holocaust "confined" to the north. So all of Tosh's machinations would have been for nought in any event (even though Shute's vision of a post-nuclear world wasn't entirely accurate anyway).

But I LIVE IN FEAR is of course primarily about family relationships. The nuclear angle is simply a convenient, albeit apocalyptic, plot point on which K hangs his overview of the nuclear family, as it were. And as to its timing, in the wake of the Lucky Dragon No. 5 incident -- the Japanese fishing boat whose crew was poisoned, many fatally, by radiation from a US hydrogen bomb test that drifted over their boat (an incident that also prompted Toho to invent Godzilla -- GOJIRA) -- making the nuclear fear the MacGuffin of this film was a logical and timely one for Kurosawa. And besides, I think Mifune was fabulous in an offbeat role for him.

I too recently bought THE QUIET DUEL (I presume "The Silent Duel" you referred to?). It's one of the few Kurosawas I haven't seen and unfortunately as yet I haven't had the chance to get to it. (Oddly, it's the one Kurosawa film from his 1943-1965 period not released in the US by Criterion.) But I must get to it because this one too has always received less-than-stellar reviews: considered okay, no more. I'll be curious to see if I rate it more favorably, as you do.

Interesting story about Shirley Yamaguchi (Yamaguchi Yoshiko). She was born in China (as was Mifune, that most Japanese of all Japanese, who never set foot in Japan until he was conscripted in 1940, at age 20; she was six weeks older than him). Both were children of Japanese colonialists. Anyway, Miss Y., who was fluent in Chinese, became an actress in Japanese-made films in China, invariably playing a beautiful Chinese maiden who at first hates the Japanese, until she realizes that they are kind and generous gentlefolk only reluctantly invading to civilize her own backward, barbarous people. She acted under a Chinese name, Li Xianglan (Ri Ko Ran, in Japan) and was wildly popular in Japan before and during the war. But she was hated in China, reviled as a traitor, because she was so convincingly Chinese that all Chinese (and most Japanese) actually thought she was Chinese. She was captured at the end of the war, tried for treason, and sentenced to be shot, and was reportedly saved only because a birth certificate proving her Japanese nationality -- and hence rendering her incapable of "treason" to China -- was produced at the last minute. That helped her even more in Japan, where she returned, though it did little to help her in her brief sojourn in Hollywood in the 50s. After quitting acting in the late 50s she became a noted journalist, interviewing newsmakers the world over, and from 1974-1992 served as a Liberal Democratic member of the Upper House of the Japanese Diet, becoming an associate of many prominent foreign dignitaries (including Margaret Thatcher). How appropriate she starred in a movie called SCANDAL!

Oh, yeah, I read some Tolstoy, Chekov, Gorkiy (the literal transliteration -- funny how we accept the French rendering of Tchaikovsky, for example, which in English would be Chaikovskiy), all in Russian, but as I understood it pretty well back then (less so today -- the old mind is going fast) I had few problems. I even read "Doktor Zhivago" in Russian -- or most of it; I recall skipping some sections, when I had less patience with length! In Russian, there are no articles (a, an, the), so I often wondered who decided the English title should be "THE Idiot" -- maybe Dostoyevsky meant "AN Idiot", or even just "Idiot". In Russian, "idiot" is, surprise, "idiot" -- pronounced ee-dee-YOTE. I remember remarking to my Russian teacher that if you wanted to translate the complex sentence "The idiot goes" into Russian, it would be "Idiot idyot" -- the latter the third-person singular of "to go", accent also on the last syllable. She smiled and sort of mentally patted me on the head, in my role as the class "idi-YOTE".

That is really more than enough for now. But hope to catch you again soon, Thomas -- always a pleasure, truly.

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What an amazing story about Ms Yamaguchi. There's a film right there. Still doesn't make me warm to "Scandal", however, even if I will now see her,as both an actor and a character, in quite a new light.

You have, on the other hand, persuaded me to give "I live in fear" another shot. There's a very servicable disc available over here from the BFI, so I will invest in that, and, when I find myself in a nice tranquil mood, try it again. I can't promise anything, but we'll see.

Just a word about your (comical) suggestion of getting Dana Andrews involved in a Kurosawa project. Since he worked with Lang and Preminger, both apparently tartars in their own right, he wouldn't, perhaps, have been too phased by Akira, but this director really did demand proper performances from his actors. The repeated insistence on casting both of his favourites, Tosh and (less so, perhaps) Takeshi Shimura, against their type, and then demanding that they didn't just rest on their reputations, suggests that it would either have been the making of Dana, or that he would have struggled badly. Unlike Lang, Kurosawa didn't just want a "type". The difference in their approaches is quite instructive, I think, given that both are unassailably "great" directors, intent on making their own pictures.

Thomas

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The western director Kurosawa always most reminded me of was David Lean, partly in their treatment of actors, but also in their visual style and their seemeingly effortless move from handling intimate, character-driven stories to making sweeping, large-scale visual drams that were spectacular visually and thematically, yet also succeeded in focusing on those more intimate aspects of character, not losing sight of the latter, as so many such films do.

You know, Takeshi Shimura appeared in more Kurosawa films than even Mifune, though the size of his roles varied widely, from the star of IKIRU to a bare minute or so of screen time in RED BEARD. But I believe he was in all K's Toho films (and the couple at Shochiku and Daiei during the Toho strike of 1949-1950), from 1943-1965, and then had a final cameo in 1980's KAGEMUSHA. He was born Shoji Shimazaki in 1905 and the reason he changed his name seems lost. He was of course one of Japan's most popular actors and as a good Toho contract player from the 30s to the 60s took whatever they gave him, including prominent parts in that most popular of Toho's film exports, the Kaiju Eiga, monster/sci-fi films: notably, the lead as the scientist Dr. Yamane in 1954's GOJIRA (GODZILLA). Quite a career! He died in 1982.

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It's Takeshi's role as the leader of the seven Samurai which has always stuck with me - so completely different from what you would expect, even, as you rightly say, for such a protean actor. Since you are such a wonderful fount of information, do you know anything about his relationship with Akira? I always imagined they must have been fast friends (since, again, as you say, the director always found him a role somewhere along the line), but the occasional needle that apparently existed between Akira and Tosh (Akira and just about everyone, at one time or another) made me wonder whether they did get on any better. He's such a superb actor, and so very changeable that, when younger, a friend of mine and I used to see who could spot him first in each movie he was listed in.

Yes, I meant to say yesterday that the film I saw here last week as "The silent duel" is "The quiet duel" elsewhere. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did; I was very pleasantly surprised.

And on the subject of transliterations from the Russian. Don't we (ie Anglo-Saxons) accept Tchaikovsky because French was the language that posh Russians spoke in the nineteenth century, so that would be how he himself transcribed it into our alphabet? I might be wrong about that, and I completely bow to your knowledge on the subject. Whatever the reason, though, it's good to find at least one thing that the English and the French can agree about (!).

I adore David Lean's work in Britain, particularly "Brief encounter" and "Great expectations", but am slightly more agnostic about his international ramblings. I think he does a terrific job in following both Dickens' detailed characterisations and the complex plot, but I am less happy with that aspect of the later work. "Kwai" is wonderful adventure story, but I'm not convinced that either David or Alec sort out the complications of the central character; I am prepared to say that this is deliberate, and that ambiguity is always welcome, but I'm not quite convinced in this case. With "Lawrence", it's clearly a terrific picture, but, once again, I'm not quite convinced that David finds a balance between his growing fascination for the wonders of the desert, and the difficulties of T. E. Lawrence's character. I can't help feeling that the latter keep getting lost amid the immensity of the former, and in this instance, I do feel that's a problem. Post-"Lawrence" I'm sorry to say that my interest in Lean's work diminishes steeply.

I do, however, thoroughly agree with you that Akira's great strength was matching character and background (I would cite "Red Beard" as an outstanding example of this, but a friend of mine regularly dismisses this film as nothing more than elevated soap opera [his phrase]. Where do you stand on that?), and, while I know it's a cliche, I guess the Hollywood director who most often managed the same thing would be Akira's great hero, John Ford. Who, of course, had a similarly interesting relationship with his chief leading man, Mr Wayne.

Good to talk with you again, Hob.

Thomas

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My understanding is that Kurosawa and Shimura got on pretty well; he certainly wasn't the difficult personality Mifune (or Kurosawa!) could be. I suspect that K wouldn't have cast him in literally all his films for 22 years had they not generally gotten on. He may have been a contract player, but that wouldn't have compelled K to use him that often.

I agree, my favorite of his roles is SEVEN SAMURAI, even more than IKIRU. A fascinating combination of physicality and intellect, not something you generally associate with Shimura's roles, and at 49 he was a good fit for the part.

I have to disagree about Lean and his handling of the characters' complexities in KWAI and LAWRENCE. I think he handles it all very well, balancing the sweep with an understanding of the individuals caught up in the story. I think LOA does wander a bit in its second half, but this doesn't affect the characters per se as much as it seems to impart a sightly "rushed" air to the enterprise, as if they're trying to cram too much -- spectacle and character development -- into an ever-shortening time frame. Lean's pre-'57 work in the UK is of course generally superb, though OLIVER TWIST is below standard in my belief. One of my favorites of his from this period is his most atypical film, THE SOUND BARRIER (in the US called BREAKING THE SOUND BARRIER). In a way, that presages some of his later, international epics in that it takes an overarching theme and layers it upon character-driven stories and events. Unfortunately it's never been available on home video of any sort in the US; I have an old off-the-air copy, but at least it's of the complete film, not the edited American version. But I do agree with you about Lean's post-LAWRENCE work -- increasingly pretentious and unfocused. I remember that when he lunched with the NY Film Critics in 1970, after they had panned RYAN'S DAUGHTER, they so upset him by their attitude (particularly the admittedly insufferable Pauline Kael), that Lean went home and essentially sulked for a dozen or more years before making A PASSAGE TO INDIA. Another similarity to Kurosawa!

Did you know that Lean had intended to do a revisionist version of MUTINY ON THE BOUNTY? He was touring the Pacific, scouting locations, with his screenwriter Robert Bolt, when Bolt suffered the massive stroke that impaired him for the rest of his life. Soon after, Lean abandoned the project, which was picked up by Dino DiLaurentiis and eventually became 1982's THE BOUNTY with Mel Gibson and Anthony Hopkins. I always wondered how Lean would have handled the story -- maybe that one would have come out better, than both his other later pictures as well as the actual film that resulted, although I like that well enough.

Speaking of Robert Bolt, just a few weeks ago I caught the beginning of LOA and discovered that they'd changed the writing credits on the film -- adding the name of the blacklisted screenwriter Michael Wilson to the credits. They've been doing this to a lot of 40s, 50s and 60s films where the writer was blacklisted, including KWAI, where for decades, the author of the novel, Pierre Boule, was listed on the film as its screenwriter, despite the fact he spoke no English! Sam Spiegel figured listing him was the most justifiable means of crediting the writing, since he was terrified of running afoul of the blacklist by naming the actual writers, Wilson and Carl Foreman: the latter had actually once owned the rights to film the novel, but was forced to sell them. He lived in England for 23 years and became quite big in the British film industry, emerging from the blacklist shortly after KWAI and producing and/or writing such films as THE GUNS OF NAVARONE, BORN FREE and YOUNG WINSTON. Wilson was probably the better writer; I think he remained in America and wrote lots of scripts behind pseudonyms. In fact, when he wrote FRIENDLY PERSUASION, William Wyler tried to get him screen credit but the studio, Allied Artists, refused; so Wyler refused to list any screenwriter, simply saying "Based on the Novel by Jessamyn West". But since the 90s Wilson's name has been on the film's credits. He was nominated for an Oscar for that film but was declared ineligible by the Academy, which was then embarrassed because the original screenplay Oscar that year (1956) went to "Robert Rich" for THE BRAVE ONE; only after did they discover that "Rich" was the most famous blacklisted writer of all, Dalton Trumbo! He finally took possession of his Oscar in 1971. God, what an amazingly stupid time. (Wilson and Foreman finally got the Oscars they earned for KWAI's screenplay in 1985 -- posthumously: although Foreman, who had moved back to the States in 1975, had learned that his effort to procure his recognition and the Oscar had succeeded just the day before he died in 1984; Wilson had died in 1978, by which time he had also emerged from the blacklist.)

Getting far afield here. Yes, I love RED BEARD, in fact I think it's among K's half-dozen or so best films; but a lot of people put it down as a 19th-century, Japanese Dr. Kildare! Ridiculous. I don't know how far I'd go comparing K to Ford, though. K might have admired him but I think in most ways their styles and approaches were dissimilar. I'm actually rather critical of much of Ford, especially his later work. Too often -- not always, but enough -- he fell back on formulaic, boys-will-be-boys humor, which Henry Fonda, among others, was furious about after Ford insisted on mucking up MISTER ROBERTS with this same approach. They argued so fiercely (Fonda had, after all, played the role on Broadway for three years and so knew something about it) that Ford took to the bottle and left the production (hence the dual directing credit for him and Mervyn LeRoy) and he and Fonda never spoke again. Anyway, a lot of Ford's later work was self-indulgent and sloppy -- not overall, but in enough sections that much of the potential power of each film was lost. THE SEARCHERS, often cited as one of Ford's greatest, is to me so overloaded with these idiot [I knew I could bring this thread around!] indulgences of Ford's, which he thought were so funny, that they badly impair the power of the better sections of the film -- which are quite good, no doubt. I think Kurosawa was steadier in his work, though his films, like most filmmakers', declined as he grew older and newer talents took precedence.

Sorry, Thomas, hadn't intended to meander so. Oh, yes, you're doubtless correct, Tchaikowsky is spelled the French way because the old Russian elite always learned French first, even before learning Russian in some cases. Remember the film NICHOLAS AND ALEXANDRA? Of course the movie shows the Tsar and his German-born wife speaking English to one anohter, but in fact that's what they usually did, as she spoke no Russian when they married; but both had learned English so as to be able to talk with Granny Victoria, the various dynasties' centerpiece. But back to French: do you know where the word "bistro" comes from? Everyone thinks it's French; mais non: when the mostly boorish Russian aristocrats used to go to Paris, they would sit in the cafes and evidently found the service of the French waiters slow and slovenly; and so, out of patience, they would pound the table shouting "Bistro! Bistro!", which is Russian for "Quickly! Quickly!" And the name stuck, albeit on the slightly wrong object.

Always a pleasure, my friend.

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French waiters being slow and slovenly?! Surely not! Some things obviously don't change. I lived in Paris for six months after finishing university, which proved just (but only just) long enough to become accepted by the gang of waiters at the cafe round the corner where I had breakfast almost every day. I can tell you of some considerably more offensive words than "bistro" (in a wide variety of languages) that were hurled at them while I patiently waited. In the end I realised that laughter was the only proper response, and an accomodation was arrived at from there. I didn't know about the derivation of "bistro", though.

You are kinder about Lean than I, then. I suspected you might be. The thing that most horrified me about him was that, after "A passage to India", a film about which I can find nothing good to say whatsoever, he was planning to attempt a version of "Nostromo", which, after Dostoevsky, is my all-time favourite novel, and the thought of what late-period Lean was going to do to it was too much to contemplate. He died before he could get past the planning stage, although storyboards exist, along with a pre-credit underwater sequence, with a camera snaking along the sea-bed until it alights on a pile of gold, glittering greenly in the water. I've no idea what happened to this material (it's probably on YouTube somewhere), but I thought you might be interested.

Clearly we swap our impressions with Ford and Lean. I completely sympathise with your dislike for Ford's back-slapping moments. Every so often he just went hog-wild and made a whole film with nothing except back-slapping good ol' boy schtick ("Donovan's Reef", for instance), presumably to get them out of his system for a while. But then he was also capable of making absolutely unified, coherent masterpieces like "My darling Clementine", "They were expendable" and "The man who shot Liberty Valance" (as with "Ran", a late-period film that lives up to the heyday). I've always had the feeling (based on exactly no evidence) that Ford was a man who was somewhat suspicious of his own "art", and kept up the alcoholism/lads-night-out front as a sort of shield against it.

The parallels with Kurosawa are not exact, of course: for one thing, Ford would never have attempted anything like "The idiot" at any stage in his career. But it's from him, so Kurosawa claimed, that Akira learned the importance of environment to a film's totality - the topography and, of course, the weather. I know it's extremely unlikely, but I've always wondered whether the amount of rain in "...Liberty Valance", especially at the critical moments, and the contrast with the extreme aridity of the "contemporary" bookends, is a reverse tribute to Kurosawa from Ford. I doubt it, but, as a fan of both film-makers, it warms me to think it might be true.

About the blacklist I have nothing more to add, except to point out that you can't enshrine freedom of speech and then get upset if someone espouses a point of view you don't like.

My diary tells me I am supposed to be seeing "Red Beard" again next week, so I'll get back to both you and my soap-opera-comparison friend later.

Cheers, Thomas

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Gosh, I only vaguely recall hearing about NOSTROMO being Lean's next project. You're correct, I think he may well have done it, shall we say, an injustice. I don't think I'm quite as critical of PASSAGE TO INDIA as you are, but I'm probably not all that far behind you. I found a few segments interesting, and some good performances (although not from Lean-perennial Alec Guinness, ordinarily one of my favorites; but here he was miscast, or dare I say, mis-caste); but overall, I quite agree, a lot of overblown, overstuffed, overindulged emptiness (confessing here that I never read the novel). So I think the "Bounty" story might have been better for Lean, if only because there was not the opportunity for overarching sweep that he'd begun using as a substitute for creativity in his final few films.

Don't get me wrong about Ford: when he was great, he was great. CLEMENTINE is one of my absolute favorites, a superb motion picture, and there are many others: LIBERTY VALANCE went unregarded at the time of its release but has come up a long way, and deservedly so, with Ford holding his taste for slapstick humor in check for once. It was only that he came too often to fall back on such things as he grew older, and that aside, some of his later films were simply unfocused in their development: THE WINGS OF EAGLES is the prime example (even if it did co-star my cousin, Dan Dailey!). On the other hand, a film like THE GRAPES OF WRATH was one of those rare movies that did complete justice to the book -- even Steinbeck thought so. And you are quite right about Ford's exploration of the effects of geography on men, and events. No one expressed this aspect better than he, and I'd like to think that directors like Lean and Kurosawa, who came to films touching upon this relationship rather later in their careers, may have been at least subliminally influenced by Ford's work.

I gather Ford was a real S.O.B. -- so you're absolutely right, not only was he not someone I could envision filming THE IDIOT, I could also just hear the four-letter expletives he'd employ at the very suggestion! But charitable he wasn't: you know that when he saw Wayne's excellent performance in Howard Hawks's RED RIVER, Ford was heard muttering in surprise after he left the theater, "I never knew the dumb son of a bitch could act!" He did like to control things and people. On the other hand, he had no pretentions about his work: but I think he secretly liked and wanted the praise and recognition and feigned indifference to the acclaim, or dissection of his films, just to make people heap even more encomia upon him. He must have been a bit insecure, to be sure.

Let me know your updated RED BEARD thoughts when you can -- if you want to do so over on the RB site, that would be appropriate (just leave a note here to tip me off!). I don't recall the dialogue precisely, but my favorite passage in that film came after Mifune slew all those miscreants, then looked around the scene and began shouting something to the effect of, "Why did you make me do this? I'm a physician!" Wonderful.

Cheers.

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No question that Ford was a deeply unpleasant fellow from all accounts. The English critic, Derek Malcolm, tells a story that he was summoned once to the director's hotel room at Cannes for an interview, where he was met by Ford's wife, who asked him to wait because her husband was on the toilet. From which little room growled the voice, "That's okay; I can deal with two *beep* at the same time." I suspect this story might be apocryphal, since I have heard something very similar told about the actor-manager Donald Wolfit, but it seems to sum ol' John up quite well, with its mixture of belligerence, vulgarity and downright rudeness. His best films are among the very best, though; pleased that you find some to like. Everyone at the time, led by Orson Welles, cited him as the sine qua non of cinema, and I guess it was impossible to make serious films during the fifties and sixties and not be aware of his strengths. Do you think he ever watched anyone else's pictures, though - especially given his reaction to "Red River"? Did he and Akira ever meet?

To link the use both directors made of topography back to "The idiot", we haven't touched much on the constant snow (even sweeping into the decaying old mansion at one point). This seems highly symbolic to me, a kind of cleansing of Japan after the war, and before the Americans change it forever. Given that this is also, to a certain extent, the subject of "Scandal", I wondered if you had any thoughts on it. In "Scandal", it's all quite ambiguous: you gain on the motorbikes and lose on the press intrusion. In "The idiot", though, it seems something more complex is going on, with Kameda both a representation of the best of "old Japan", and a warning about how ineffective those qualities are likely to be in the new world order. Changes have been made here to Dostoevsky's intentions, but that's inevitable. Changes also to the character Setsuko Hara plays, who is much sterner and more forbidding than the party-girl Natasha in the novel. I don't want to push you if you don't recall enough of the film, but, if you do, are these something like the right lines? And I bet you have an interesting story or two about Ms Hara (who gave up acting,and was very dismissive of her work, even with Ozu, in her later life, causing, I believe, much consternation among the Japanese, who revered her). Comments welcome, anyway.

Plus, I forgot to say how pleased I was that you like "The sound barrier". The best of the trio of pictures Lean made with Ann Todd, and, yes, a very solid film all round. I first saw it as a child, on television, and was thrilled by the idea of it; and then saw it again much later on, at the NFT in London, with Ms Todd introducing it, and it lived up to my memory of it. Another one to add to Mr Lean's credit list.

Will definitely report back (somewhere) on "Red Beard" - assuming I can think of something interesting to say.

Thomas

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Thomas, everything you say is interesting -- thoughtful, insightful, with many exceptional ways of looking at film. Your critiques and discourses are among the best I've read, actually. I only wish I could attain your level of knowledge and analytic ability.

Nonetheless...!

I must clarify again -- I like many more than merely "some" of Ford's films. But it is true I am not the rapt idolator of him that many people in the industry (such as Welles) are/were. Like all great talents, Ford I think coasted a bit in his later career, and indulged himself in certain cinematic passages that simply don't hold up well, or detract from the main thrust of his work. He became very uneven, and I think he did less than justice to, say, MISTER ROBERTS, as Fonda thought. But I would certainly not take away from his overall greatness or talent, although as a human being he was, as Maureen O'Hara put it, "a bastard!" (You know what Ford's own favorite of all his films was? THE SUN SHINES BRIGHT (1953), which I've never seen (other than a few clips), and which seems to have disappeared -- his forgotten film, as it were.) Certainly Ford did see others' films, but I think it's true, he thought working with him was the epitome of any actor's career, and saw others' work as secondary. Perhaps he felt threatened by other talents -- he wasn't the only great director in town!

But I have to hand it to Ford for one thing -- it was he who stood up to Cecil B. DeMille and other right-wing directors who tried to overthrow the leadership of the Directors' Guild at a heated 1950 meeting. This was odd in that Ford had joined his pals Wayne and Ward Bond in founding the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals in 1944, an ultra-right group dedicated even then to ferreting out leftist elements in Hollywood. But in '50, when DeMille & Co. tried to toss liberals out of leadership positions in the DGA and force its members to take a loyalty oath, Ford came to the rescue. DeMille had just read out a selected list of some DGA members of foreign origin, deliberately affecting a foreign accent as he read out names like "Mank-ie-vich", "Vee-ler", "Vil-der", and so forth. After this tirade Ford arose and said, "My name is Ford and I make westerns." Then, turning to DeMille, he said, "Cecil, you are the greatest filmmaker in Hollywood. You were a pioneer of this industry. No one knows the tastes of the American people like you do, and no one makes more successful films than you do." Then Ford said, "But, Cecil, I don't like you. I have never liked you. And I will not support you here today." (Or words to that effect.) Ford's authority was so great that it won the day -- although when Mankiewicz prevailed, and the loyalty oath DeMille had temporarily gotten passed in his absence had been repealed, Mankiewicz then asked the members to sign a voluntary oath anyway! But I always though Ford's unexpected action -- the liberals had assumed he'd be with DeMille -- was the main reason he won his fourth Best Director Oscar for THE QUIET MAN in 1952 -- beating out DeMille himself, for THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH.

Anyway....I find your analyses re snow in both SCANDAL and THE IDIOT fascinating and with merit. Unfortunately I don't recall enough of the latter to comment in depth now (it's been 20-plus years since my one viewing), so as to specifics, I'll have to await purchase of the film in the Eclipse set in January (as I said, it's one of just three Kurosawa films of this period I don't own on DVD or VHS). So, please bear with me...! But another interesting point is that K made only two films in which the central character is a woman -- THE MOST BEAUTIFUL and NO REGRETS FOR OUR YOUTH, the latter of which also starred Ms. Hara. This may explain why K was not quite as successful in portraying strong women as was, say, Ozu, for whom Hara starred in several films, notably TOKYO STORY.

Ms. Hara, from what I know, is considered "the Greta Garbo of Japan". She was a top star, and acclaimed actress, from the late 30s into the 60s, having made her film debut at 15 in 1935. There have always been rumors -- unclear whether true or not, but probable -- that one of her grandfathers was German, which is reflected in her rather different build and facial features -- somewhat Eurasian. This made her a unique-looking woman and accounted for a good degree of her popularity with Japanese audiences. She's been compared variously, and in part only, to actresses such as Joan Crawford or Maria Schell in her femininity, yet also in her underlying resentment of men, who do not understand or appreciate her abilities. She abruptly retired in the 60s and disappeared into her home in Kamakura, refusing all offers and interviews and seeing only a few friends; she never married, something else that made her something of a scandal in Japan -- because she was so beautiful and so independent, she symbolized a type of character that most Japanese (women, especially) could only envy, never emulate. Apparently, her retirement upset her fans enormously, but true to her nature, she's remained reclusive and unyielding in her forty-plus years out of public view. She's 87 now. You're right, she has evidently been dismissive of her work, and of films in general, which may have upset her fan base even more; besides, I think these feelings are misplaced, as do most viewers. Pity most people in the West don't know of her -- or perhaps, don't know that they know of her!

My two favorite shots in THE SOUND BARRIER: the contrails of the jet, far above in the sky, passing over the ancient Greek statuary -- not subtle, but a glorious evocation of progress and a juxtaposition of man's stages of development; and the end, when Ann Todd (Mrs. Lean, then) comes into Ralph Richardson's study, where he's peering through his telescope, and walks past a large photograph of the surface of the moon laying there -- a peek into man's technological future, then just in its infancy. Same themes, wonderfully invoked...the continuum of man's progress, and more, of boundless optimism in the efficacy, inevitablity, and basic goodness of such progress. Very Ayn Randian!

Cheers! hob.

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Hi again Hob! Hope you had a good weekend.

Sorry if I belittled your liking for Mr Ford. Nothing personal meant, I assure you. But that's a GREAT story about him, which, if I had heard it before, I had completely forgotten. Good for him: I've always rather thought that his films showed pretty liberal tendencies - "The grapes of wrath" most obviously, and "Cheyenne autumn", too, but also the bulk of the western work, all of which demonstrated that, while individuals like Tom Donophan and Ethan and the Ringo Kid all helped to tame the west (and, of course, kill injuns), it was the communities which came in their wake which made the real difference. "My darling Clementine" seems to me to delineate this especially well, with Wyatt desperate to become part of the burgeoning society of Tombstone. (Brief aside: have you ever seen John Sturges' film, "Hour of the gun", a kind of sequel to "The gunfight at the OK Corral"? It shows Wyatt unable to settle down at all until he's finished off the last of the Clantons, and it's a really good picture: the exact opposite to what I'm talking about). Also, returning to the main theme, "Fort Apache" is interesting in this regard, because the individualist, in that case Custer, in trying to "tame the west", is shown as being a bloodthirsty fool (Henry Fonda counter-intuitively cast).

This becomes even more interesting, I think, with regard to Akira, who was always much more interested in the individual, often as a lone leader of others, either weaker or more corrupt. "Yojimbo" and "Sanjuro" (now there's an under-rated film, in my opinion) are obvious examples, but you can see it running right through "I live in fear" and up to his last picture, "Madadayo". How much, for instance, Akira admires the character and life of Dersu Uzala. It's clear in Tosh's character in "Scandal" how much contempt he has for society - either the pre-war Japanese, or the new American version - just as it runs troublingly through "The idiot" (about a society which cannot find the leader it needs). And while I haven't seen one of the female-led films you mention, "The most beautiful", the other one, "No regrets for our youth" is particularly fascinating in this respect, because it's one of the very few Kurosawa films which deal directly with a specific political situation. I wonder if this is why he centres it on a woman, because it means he doesn't have to get caught up in the male-dominance thing. These thoughts are tentative, because I'm ad-libbing them in response to your post (you see what you get for being so interesting and informative yourself - you set off all sorts of chains of ideas in my mind), and I have no idea whether you can come up with a general theory of Kurosawa based on them (although "Seven Samurai", with its tacit disdain for the villagers who are being defended seems to fit), or a general theory of Ford, either (and I completely agree about how lazy he could be, and not just towards the end of his career), but if you have any ideas, or you just want to tell me I'm wrong, then please do so.

I try to fight shy of putting political labels on people, so I'm not trying to cast John Ford as the great unsung liberal of American film-making, nor make Kurosawa out to be a right-wing firebrand, but the ideas above are where your thoughts have taken me.

"The sound barrier" as Ayn Randian? Do you think Ayn Rand's vision was generally benevolent? Her work has always struck me as advocating individual ambition and to hell with all the little minds and people that get in the way. The moment in "The fountainhead" (I think it's in the movie, too) when the architect (I can't remember his name just now) destroys the building which, in his view, has been bastardised from his original plan comes pretty close to justifying terrorism, doesn't it? I'm even more tentative about this, because I know that Rand is particularly revered in America, and I honestly don't want to offend, but, while I understand she was advocate of a kind of progress, and while the Ralph Richardson character in "The sound barrier" had put technological progress ahead of everything else, I think it's perhaps too benign to say that the film thinks this is unassailably a good thing.

Best wishes,
Thomas

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Hi Thomas,

Terrific post. First, my Ayn Rand allusion (not de- or il-lusion!) re THE SOUND BARRIER....My comment was somewhat facetious -- I for one am not a Rand admirer, nor was she in any manner benevolent (God, no!), although she had some valid points, unfortunately taken to extremes. (I don't believe she's "revered" in America at all -- certainly some people must, but the vast majority have no idea who she was [good old American educational standards], and many who do dislike her -- even a leading conservative thinker such as Wm. F. Buckley, while agreeing with her on the primacy of the individual, found her atheism and materialism off-putting and did not get along with her). My point was merely that RR's driven aircraft manufacturer emphasized technological advancement over all else, and coldly (not unfeelingly) understood the risks to individuals and put the work first. I do think the film was a glorification of man's progress and did see such progress as a good thing, while taking account of its costs to individuals. In that sense it isn't Randish, in that for all her devotion to objective materialism (her term), while revering the concept of the individual, she showed little real human concern for actual, flesh-and-blood people. RR's character did, which made his single-mindedness in his quests even more difficult, for the other characters as well as the audience. I quite agree with you, Rand did have a sort of disdain for the "masses" -- curiously akin to her despised Communist approach, which professed concern for them but insisted on lumping them all together, as "masses". (Easier to kill them off or enslave them that way, perhaps.) Rand wasn't devoted to ruling them, she opposed that, but did hold them in a sort of uncaring, unfeeling disregard. You're also right, that Howard Roark's (the architect) dynamiting the bastardized building in THE FOUNTAINHEAD is little more than an act of terrorism, though I'm sure few would have thought of it in those terms in 1943 (novel) or 1949 (movie).

Movie trivia: For THE SOUND BARRIER, Ralph Richardson was the first man to win the NY Film Critics' Award for Best Actor (here the second-most prestigious film award) and not even be nominated for an Oscar for the film (Tallulah Bankhead, for LIFEBOAT (1944) was the first such actress). He was always one of my favorites.

Kurosawa's concentration on the individual is most astonishing given Japanese culture and its racially homogenous, society-oriented (no pun) tilt, which emphasizes mass action, the mass mind in part, certainly much more so in his heyday than perhaps today. In that sense, could there have been some slight hint of Randist thought in some of K's work? Not consciously, as I think K would have found AR unappealing, but the disdain for the masses, if you will, and glorification of the individual leader, or individual protagonist, which you so brilliantly cite, is somewhat along the lines of what we've been speaking of. I've not quite thought about it in precisely the way you've posited, but I think you have an excellent point. Interesting also, because I quite agree that NO REGRETS is his only political film (perhaps RHAPSODY IN AUGUST might partially qualify, given its background story), and is striking both on that account and because of its lead being a woman. I always interpreted that film as damning of the Japanese man, the male-dominated hierarchy, that had led Japan to disaster in the 30s and 40s, and that now was the time for women, so long repressed, to come into their own -- a very un-Kurosawan theme, before or after. But I don't think he was a right-wing firebrand, rather he was pretty liberal, and NRFOY was his effort to document the sudden changes overtaking Japan and contrasting them with the (to him) discredited old order. His (or his characters') contempt for their society in this era is clear throughout most of his work in the immediate postwar years: change is needed, but where it will take them is also unclear, and it won't be without pain. STRAY DOG is another such film thematically, and also one of my favorites of his -- except here society is simultaneously changing and being threatened by such change, at a very personal level (THE QUIET DUEL has some slight similarities in this sense too).

By the way, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL, as I said elsewhere, is unavailable in the West, but there is hope it might someday surface as part of a wartime Kurosawa set. It involves women working in a factory producing weapons for the war effort, and is apparently quite a landmark film for its varied and sympathetic treatment of women, especially so for wartime, male-centric Japan. It's where K met his future wife, actress Yoko Yaguchi, who was the film's star. From what I've read it sounds an excellent film, certainly one worth seeing, so let's hope! (Oh, and is SANJURO underrated? I like it very much, and YOJIMBO, and never thought it neglected critically...unlike, say, RED BEARD!)

As for Ford, I think we basically agree. Politically he was actually always hard to pin down, and the best I've been able to see is that he's considered a populist, a very broad and broadly-interpreted American political ethos, one used variously by both left- and right-wingers. Essentially it's a concern for the forgotten individual, being crushed under by powerful forces (usually economic) beyond his control. I think Ford instinctively felt for the little guy, a consistent theme throughout his work, visible in some form in almost every one of his pictures, though often obliquely or incidentally. Yes, I have seen Sturges's HOUR OF THE GUN, which is evidently a bit closer to the truth surrounding the O.K. Corral gunfight than other films -- also remarkable in that it opens with the gunfight, unlike most films, which use it as their climax: though of course that's the point of the movie. MY DARLING CLEMENTINE is very loose on the facts of the Earp/Holliday alliance vs. the Clantons, and as to the nature of the characters themselves; Struges's GUNFIGHT AT THE O.K. CORRAL is much closer to reality, and many of the characters there were actually real people. MDC, in fact, has a couple of glaring historical errors: when you see the tombstone of the young Earp brother (name?) who got shot down at the start, it reads "Died 1882"; the O.K. Corral fight took place in October 1881. Also, Doc Holliday didn't die at the OKC, but five years later at a TB sanatorium, in Denver I believe. But the gunfight itself lasted all of 30 seconds, tops. Ever see a 1939 film called FRONTIER MARSHAL? It's a fictionalized version of the same story, and much of the dialogue and incidents were lifted verbatim into MDC seven years later; though for some reason the character is called Doc Halliday in this one. (A fun aside: DeForest Kelley co-starred as one of the Earps in GUNFIGHT AT THE O.K. CORRAL in '57. Well, some writer must have seen the movie on TV 10 or 11 years later because there was a "Star Trek" episode called I believe "Day of the Gun" (guess where that title must've come from?), in which the Enterprise crew finds themselves on a planet whose race forces them to relive the gunfight, this time as the Clanton gang, meaning certain execution. Of course, they find a way around their prescribed fate. A common danger in space travel, of course, and one I understand NASA trains its astronauts how to handle on lunar and orbital missions.)

Whew! From Dostoyevsky to Captain Kirk. What an eclectic thread have we here. Akira-san would be proud. Or maybe appalled!

hob

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I didn't think you sounded like the sort of person who would be attracted by Ayn Rand, but people who do like her seem to get very evangelical, and I've learnt the hard way that it's best not to upset them if at all possible. Hence I pussy-foot around for a while when her name crops her. I understand her latest high-profile disciple is Angelina Jolie, who wants, of all things, to see if she can get a version of "Atlas shrugged" off the ground. Ahem. One wishes her well.

There are so many things that you mention in passing, that I always forget to cover all bases, so I'm going back a couple of posts when I say, wow, Dan Dailey was your cousin? That's quite cool. He always looked just like a film star ought to look, and I thought it a shame that he seldom had the chance to stretch his acting wings - he was Betty Grable's leading man too often for anyone's good. One film I particularly remember him in was Larry Cohen's scurrilous J. Edgar Hoover movie, although that may not be how he would want to be immortalised. Still, raise a glass to your cousin for me, sometime.

Good that we agree on so much about Kurosawa. "No regrets for our youth" is completely unavailable on any Region 2 disc, so I bought one off a Chinese website a couple of years ago, because it promised to have English subtitles. Which it kind of did, although they seemed to have been translated via Portuguese and, quite possibly, Martian. This made understanding what on Earth was going on extremely difficult. It had the benefit of sending me down the library, though, to find a book on pre-war Japanese politics, after which I could make sense of the movie a bit more second time around. It would be nice to watch it without having to fill in so many blanks, though. I think your assessment of it is correct, and I believe it was considered extremely provocative in its day in that it dared to criticize the political class (even a discredited one). Given that not only did Kurosawa barely ever return to direct political comment in his films (as we have said), and given that so many of his later films, and not just the Samurai ones (there's a proper Japanese word for this genre, but I've just forgotten it), are indeed about individual struggle and the championing of it, I wonder whether the reaction to "No regrets..." coloured Kurosawa's thinking. He is not, I believe, nearly as revered in Japan as he is in the west, or as people like Mizoguchi and Ozu are, and is considered a little un-Japanese, for the exact reasons you point out. I wonder how much he saw himself as an "Idiot"-like individual, going his own way among people who are fascinated by him, but who cannot - or do not want to - understand him.

Someone pointed out to me yesterday, when I mentioned this conversation, that Kurosawa's other lasting hero and influence (along with Ford) was Shakespeare, and that Kurosawa's love of an individual putting himself above an often dismal or corrupt society, and relishing the "struggle" as much as anything else, could be said to come from Shakespeare. Quite apart from his direct adaptations, all of which I love, does this seem sensible to you, as a theory? I shall put it to the test later on, while watching "Red Beard", which, now my friend has mentioned it to me, seems a very Shakespearean film (even things like the sudden change of tone which you mentioned, when Tosh starts banging heads together, has something of the Bard about it).

A couple of other points, briefly: yes, Ralph Richardson is always fun (and was a proper eccentric, too, in real life). He's one of the few actors whose mannerisms I even find endearing (and he could be a very mannered actor if the director wasn't strong enough).

"The most beautiful" sounds fascinating. I must have a hunt for it (avoiding Chinese versions).

And a last word on the OK Corral. Other versions of the gun-fight might be more historically accurate, but I think you'll agree that none of them have the resonance and the artistry of Ford's. Hence, let's "print the legend". It's more fun.

Thomas

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I've heard something about Kurosawa's admiration of Shakespeare, though I don't think I'd stretch my understanding of the Bard's plays (most of them) as pitting an individual against his corrupt society, at least not to the degree evident in Kurosawa. S's characters, if they were heroic, were more prone to try to uplift their fellows, not merely surmount or survive among them, which strikes me more as K's themes. K's characters often betray their contempt for their society, or its "masses", and the individualism they express is defiant, and personal -- intended as a form of self-expression, even self-preservation. In Shakespeare many of his leading characters are throughly unattractive, even reprehensible in some way, whereas virtually all of K's leads are admirable. Good or bad -- perhaps weak or strong would be a better way of putting it -- S's characters try to meld with their surroundings, their times, their contemporaries, whether to uplift or in some vain attempt to mollify some inner demon. But K's protagonists are mainly interested in proclaiming their independence from their society -- a real challenge in a non-individualistic society such as Japan's -- and while they may occasionally lead by example, that is not their intent, as it often is in S. They are self-contained and hence really self-absorbed, but in the sense of seeking strength through their individuality; in S, the self-absorbed ones are generally weak, the truly strong eager to use their strength for the greater good as well as their own. This is all rather over-simplified, of course, but this is one reason why I find more of a hint of a kind of Ayn Randism to K's leads than you'd ever find in Shakespeare. I'm sure Kurosawa found inspiration in S several times (even beyond THRONE OF BLOOD), but I'm not sure I see so many parallels between their handling of the people, or the societies, they bring to life.

But when Kurosawa died in 1998, Steven Spielberg called him "the pictorial Shakespeare of our time". Others have likened his characters more to those of Dickens, which is interesting, and I can see perhaps more parallels there than to S. It's also true I agree, picking up on another of your points, that K was much more revered abroad than at home in the last third or so of his life, and it's true he spoke very highly of American filmmakers such as Spielberg, Scorsese, even Lucas, than of his own countrymen, during this time -- probably not uninfluenced by the fact that these guys championed and revered him and helped finance some of his later films. Still, when he died, 35,000 people showed up for a memorial service to which only 4000 had been invited. After you're gone, people suddenly realize what they've lost, of course.

There is (or was) a MOST BEAUTIFUL DVD (I've mentioned this) available from Hong Kong, quality unknown, with the characters all given Chinese names, so it sounds extremely risky -- especially after your hilarious NO REGRETS experience. (Okay, I must ask if you have any regrets about purchasing that...oh, never mind.) Can you get a Region 0 DVD player? They're available here, though I don't own one, but several people have recommended them -- this way you can buy any region's DVDs and they should play. I have several so-called Region 0 DVDs (from Russia and Japan), which play fine on my R1 player, and apparently you can get the same quality with an R0 player using any region's discs. I'm thinking of buying one sometime, especially as there are a lot of films on R2 disc that aren't available here (like SOUND BARRIER). (We're all in the same boat, just on different oars, for a tortured metaphor.)

"Atlas Shrugged" has been bandied about as a film project for decades. I hadn't heard of AJ's plans -- "ahem", indeed -- but, hey, at least it wouldn't star Bo Derek. Somehow I doubt this one will see the light of celluloid.

Absolutely corral-correct: CLEMENTINE is by far the greatest of the films depicting this historic fight, however fictionalized it all is. With that, no one, including the makers of the other films, would ever take issue. Not if they wanted to avoid being transported to the scene by aliens determined to see them gunned down for their apostasy.

You know Kurosawa's laconic reply when he was asked what he thought of Sturges's westernized version of SEVEN SAMURAI, THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN? "Gunslingers are not samurai," is all he had to say. Do I detect an air of disdain in this? It was still the most popular foreign film in Japan when it was released there in 1961, followed by THE GUNS OF NAVARONE and ONE-EYED JACKS, curiously enough.

Ah: THE PRIVATE FILES OF J. EDGAR HOOVER (1977). Yes, I doubt cousin Dan would like to be remembered for that one, but I must say I thought his was the best, most natural performance in that film, which I find enjoyable if dopey. DD played Hoover's #2 in the FBI, Clyde Tolson, presumably J. Edgar's boyfriend, and the heir to all his property; he resigned from the FBI the day after Hoover died and took all the "private files" he could lay his hands on home with him, where they met with an unfortunate fireplace. I agree that Dan should have been given more opportunities to use his dramatic talents, but he was a terrific dancer and more than held his own, I think, with Gene Kelly in IT'S ALWAYS FAIR WEATHER, for instance. He had an Oscar nomination for WHEN MY BABY SMILES AT ME (1948), of all things. If you ever see a movie called THE MORTAL STORM (1940), catch it -- Dan, in an early role when he was signed with MGM, plays a Nazi thug who had it in for anti-Nazi lovers James Stewart and Margaret Sullavan. He looked pretty menacing, I must say. But he had many good roles. I always found it funny that his 1956 film, MEET ME IN LAS VEGAS, was for some reason retitled in the UK -- a common enough practice, both ways; but most UK titles of that era were rather staid, vs. somewhat more sensational American titles. So what did they rename this one for the British market? VIVA LAS VEGAS! (!!!!) And what were they then forced to retitle the Elvis flick of that same title, eight years later: why, the sexy and sensational LOVE IN LAS VEGAS. Which took no account of the title tune. Anyway, I shall indeed raise a toast to him Thursday, our Thanksgiving Day, and mention this comes from a British admirer as well. My mother, whose cousin he was, will be pleased; she and her brother, who spent a lot of time at his place in California in the late 40s and 50s, always exchange chatter about him -- more than they do about their uncle, who was merely a member of the US Congress for 32 years!

Guess that makes me the family disappointment!

Cheers,

Hob

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Hello again.

Yep, if I had to pick one of Mr Dailey's films, it would be "It's always fair weather", which I have always thought an excellent piece of work, often overlooked in Kelly's canon, and with an unusually serious, almost disspirited mood given it's a musical (perhaps the reason that it doesn't get the attention it deserves).

And yes, I do have a multi-region player - they are pretty much de rigeuer over here in Europe, where we get probably less than half of all American releases, and a lot of those we do get have a similarly small percentage of the extras otherwise available. The Hong Kong disc of "The most beautiful" looks to be exactly the same as the Chinese disc of "No regrets" (some regrets for buying it, yes, but it did at least allow me to see the film; the transfer was fine, visually - it was just the crazed subtitles). I will learn my lesson and wait patiently for someone to bring out this war-time Akira set you mention. At the same time they bring out Fritz' last two American films (!).

On to the meat of the post, though, for twas yesterday when I went to re-watch "Red Beard", and while I was thinking of Shakespearean parallels, it was indeed the name of Dickens which popped into my head just as often. The length, for one thing. I didn't really remember it being three hours, and although I have sat through longer (and many shorter which seemed much longer), there are editorial decisions made in this picture which I would question now. The central story, with Tosh's crusty old stick, always looking to do good for the poor, set against Yuzo Kayama's arrogant young student of "Dutch medicine" (what is that, exactly?), is excellent. Consistently interesting, and with obvious echoes of "The quiet duel" (if you prefer that title), only with Tosh now taking on the Takeshi Shimura role. But I'm less convinced now by all the stuff going on around them: the homicidal nymphomaniac (no hospital should have a back-room without one); the chap dying of liver cancer and the mysteries attendant upon him; the hard-working fellow who suddenly divulges the secret of his One Great Love on his death-bed. It's as if Akira had a whole bunch of ideas for films and then just thought he'd throw them all in to this one. I can now see where my friend gets his "soap opera" analogy from. Plus each story adds a little to what I'm going to call the creeping liberal sentimentalism which casts a kind of pall over the film every time Tosh isn't front and centre. Even Kayama is revealed to have an imperfect past, having been two-timed by his fiancee.

The influence of Dickens is clear, but where Akira seems to me to fail is the way that he doesn't integrate all the story-lines. People criticize Dickens for the neatness with which his plots work out, in which everyone is revealed to be related to everyone else somehow or another (although as you stand between a film star and a Congressman, perhaps it's not so far-fetched after all), but Kurosawa seems to have gone too far the other way, throwing in a mass of subplots simply to demonstrate how darned noble old Tosh is in dealing with each of them.

When he is on screen, being noble or otherwise, however, it's absolutely first-rate: a top-notch example of what we've been talking about, a character who sets himself up above the society in which he finds himself, but, in this case, one whose influence, despite his occasional tantrums, is entirely benevolent. In the way he gradually influences Kayama for the better, the film could be said to betray its sentimentalism, too, but this is the one strand where its length counts entirely in its favour, allowing the director to play out the story in its fullness, without the necessity of a sudden change of heart by the arrogant young man.

I'll stand by the Shakespeare comparison, though. I meant it specifically with the tragedies and Roman plays (Kurosawa doesn't seem to have had very much interest in comedy), all of which provide a contrast between a driven individual and a society against which they find themselves at odds. In some cases, like Hamlet, he's a decent man, honestly trying to do the right thing in a world where politics and Machiavelli are everything (and Shakespeare's conception of the character is much "nicer" than Kurosawa's version of him, in "The bad sleep well"). In other cases, like Macbeth, he's basically a violent man with serious arrogance issues whose case is made worse by his marriage, and here Kurosawa makes his conception of the character slightly more noble than Shakespeare. Both artists seem to see Lear in pretty much the same way, and Kurosawa never attempted a version of "Othello", perhaps due to the racial homogeneity of Japan? But the Shakespeare characters who always put me most in mind of Japan are those from the Roman plays, particularly Coriolanus, who can be played either as a hero or a villain, and who expressly sets himself up as better than all those around him, and to hell with all society.

I don't know if you'd like to develop this argument, or just to refute it completely (there's a good chance I'm talking nonsense, you know), but I think there's some evidence (beyond just people saying that Kurosawa liked to read and watch Shakespeare plays, which, apparently, he did) to support the comparison.

Anyway, "Red Beard" has slipped perhaps half a mark in my estimation, due to a lack of focus (not something you would often accuse peak-period Kurosawa of), but it's still cracking cinema.

Thomas

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Bolt's "Nosferatu" script is prime. As is "The Bounty".
The best thing about this film is AK gets the humor of the novel's most beautifully brutal conceit and treats it as a way to film the movie with its lofty cinematography: that innocence is akin to an insane medical condition that can be treated, as if it's just something to cure.

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