For his birthday week, we here at MovieJawn are celebrating the work of Akira Kurosawa! Check out all of the pieces here.

by Ian Hrabe, Staff Writer

It is hard to believe Rashomon is 70 years old. Released in Japan in 1950, it feels like a film that has been around since the dawn of time. It is seminal. It is a universal truth. It is one of the most exquisite pieces of storytelling in any medium, and based on how many TV shows put out a “Rashomon Episode” (see also: the “Seven Samurai Episode”), the film is obviously still relevant. One could argue that in our post-truth world of alternative facts and alternative realities, Rashomon deserves a retrospective. Not a remake, because messing with Akira Kurosawa’s perfection is nothing short of sacrilege, but anything to raise awareness for a story that addresses “the truth” in a way that is still salient today. 

Rashomon’s plot is deceptively simple: a bandit accosts a samurai and his wife in the woods. The samurai is killed, the wife is raped and flees, and the bandit is put on trial for the crime. The bandit, wife, samurai’s ghost (via a medium), and a woodcutter (who clandestinely witnessed the events) provide testimony, and each person tells a different story. The perspectives vary wildly and often contradict each other, with each testifier doing everything they can to portray themselves in a better light than the cold hard light of the truth. Even the seemingly objective woodcutter’s testimony has doubt cast upon it. As a result, there is no definitive version of the story. No “aha! moment” at the end like you expect from American movies, where the final truth is revealed with a flourish. In Rashomon, Kurosawa’s point seems to be that there is no definitive version of events because the truth is so often subjective when filtered through the mind of ever fallible human beings. Objective truth is often never truly obtainable (there’s even a term called “The Rashomon Effect” which pertains to the unreliability of eyewitnesses). A definitive truth exists, and in Rashomon’s case the woodcutter’s likely comes the closest, but only God can say for sure what really happened in the woods.

Rashomon’s storytelling device feels so postmodern, it’s hard to believe that it’s based on a short story written in 1920. These days we are used to unreliable narrators, and maybe that’s why Rashomon still feels incredibly fresh in 2021. It’s a brilliant subversion of the murder mystery, a meditation on the lies we tell ourselves to live with ourselves, and a multifaceted morality tale all in one. Though Kurosawa already had a couple of great movies under his belt--Drunken Angel (1948) and Stray Dog (1949)--Rashomon is in a class of its own. It’s not only Kurosawa’s first true masterpiece in a filmography FULL of masterpieces, but it’s in the conversation for his best film period. 

Every aspect of Rashomon feels like a director truly unlocking his limitless potential. The pacing of the story is methodical, and yet the film clocks in at a perfectly concise 88 minutes. The camerawork and lighting are exquisite with more than a handful of breathtaking compositions. Toshiro Mifune gives a brilliantly unhinged performance as Tajomaru the bandit. There is no wasted movement. Needless to say, if you haven’t seen Rashomon, it goes without saying that you need to cash in your free trial to the Criterion Channel or pick up a copy at your local library ASAP. Hell, if you haven’t seen Rashomon LATELY, it’s probably time to give it another look. I rewatched the film last year back and didn’t feel like I needed to do a complete rewatch for this piece and what did I end up doing? I ended up staring at my computer monitor for 88 minutes unable to turn it off.