Lyman, Rick. “Akira Kurosawa, Film Director, Is Dead at 88: Akira Kurosawa, Director of 'Rashomon' and 'Seven Samurai,' Dies at 

88.” New York Times 7 Sep. 1998: A1.

    This obituary of acclaimed director Akira Kurosawa appeared in the New York Times September 7, 1998. As in accordance with the format of obituaries, the author, Rick Lyman, chronicles the details of Kurosawa’s death, life, and fame. He is humanized with demonstrations of his perfectionism, humble family life, and personal influences and experiences that help explain how this great man and his masterpieces came to be. Particularly informative was the anecdote provided about a trip taken in his youth with his brother, Heigo. The two visited the ruins of the once great city of Toyko after a massive earthquake and firestorm of 1923. When his brother forced the young Kurosawa to stay firm and look, Kurosawa developed the outlook that would define his aesthetic enterprises throughout his life. He learned that “‘to be an artist means never to avert one’s eyes.’” Such steadfast investigation into the physical world and the life that inhabits it brought about his unforgettable shots of the forests scenes, for example, in Rashomon. The influence of his brother Heigo is stressed in this article, mentioning Heigo’s taste of story-telling and speculation as to the emotional impact of Heigo’s suicide. Rashomon is mentioned as also introducing the now formulalistic style of narration, namely the recounting of one event through difference characters perspectives. The complex intertwining of characters and recolations highlight the unifying theme of what Kurosawa terms a “‘sinful need for flattering falsehood.’” Kurosawa communicates the plight of humans to always desire to better themselves with lies to listening ears, and laments the inability of humans to contentedly coexist with one another. Such themes bring Kurosawa’s work out of the brilliance of their setting into the history of cinematic culture and universal intercourse.

The benefit of obituaries in studying an artist and an individual piece of his work is that it allows one to put the two in the context of his life and body of work as a whole. The film Rashomon takes on a whole new perspective when placed into this longer framework. However, the individual analysis of the film itself is very insightful and would be valuable when used to specifically study of the film.

Wetmore Jr., Kevin J. “Modern Japanese Drama in English.” Asian Theatre Journal 23.1 (2006): 179-205.

This article discusses the modernization of Japanese dramatic mediums. In the late 19^th century with the advent of the Meiji Restoration, Japan was opened up to the west politically, economically, and culturally. The conceptual challenge to Japanese theatre brought about the opposing strategies to either renovate traditional theatre or to implement entirely western models. Initially an attempt was made to maintain the traditional forms through the former path, including the reinvention of kabuki with shin-kabuki or “new kabuki” and then later with Shimpa or “New School” which incorporated Western storylines and playwrights with the traditional style and acting of kabuki theatre. Eventually, however, these failed attempts transitioned into a full application of Western models in the early 1900s with shingeki or “new theatre.” This new style marks a complete rejection of tradition, both in the realm of theatre but also in the greater context of Japanese cultural heritage. Shingeki placed emphasis on naturalism and realism, indicating its adherence to modernism. The American occupation between 1945 and 1952, however, brought about a new attitude towards Western views, translating as well into the now established new theatre styles. In the 1960s, the U.S.-Japan Mutual Security Treaty crisis of 1960 brought about the formation of a new form developed going by many names, including angora or “underground,” post-shingeki,” and shE gekijE undE or “Little Theatre Movement.” This new form attempted to reconnect with the lost traditions of the pre-modern Japan. The last thirty years show a growth in “modern pluralism,” blending modern and traditional techniques, including the English versions of many works. The author goes on to state that despite such reforms few modern Japanese artists, directors, actors, etc., receive much attention in English.

This article relates to my film because it deals with modernism and the translation of Japanese drama outside of the island. Kurosawa’s film is unique in its modern perspectives and narrative techniques, and its influence across the globe is seen in many contexts. Akutagawa Ryunosuke’s short story is mentioned in the article as an English playwrights using Japanese source material, and the film has influenced many remakes and reinterpretations, such as the films Vantage Point and The Usual Suspects.

Strass, Harold. “Glimpsed Behind the Japanese Screen Scene: Renaissance of Industry Due to Blend Of Commercial and Esthetic Values.” New York Times 2 Jan. 1955: X5.

This article appeared in the New York Times newspaper on Sunday, January 2, 1955. The author, Harold Strauss, is cited underneath the headline as having traveled in Japan and studied its culture. He mentions the then recent advent of Japanese film in the global critical eye. He then gives a brief history of film in Japan, beginning with its introduction in 1910. Notably, he describes the unique Japanese cinematic style as well as the production difference of about ninety percent commercial films to the ten percent art-house. However, this disparity, as he goes on to illuminate, is smaller than in most Western countries. The Japanese audience demands quality, even in the clearly commercial films, and critical recognition especially will influence the audience’s attendance. Kurosawa’s Rashomon was at first a failure in the Japanese box office until the film and its director received praise abroad. He then goes on to describe the five categories of commercial cinema in Japan as well as the different styles found and then compares them to genres in Western cinema. Kurosawa is again mentioned particularly as blending many genres in his films. In Rashomon, the Kabuki style is attributed to the forest scenes and the Noh style to the court scenes. Returning back to a historical, production aspect, Strauss goes on the relate how increased opulence occurred as a result of the country’s involvement in the Korean war. New talent was drawn into Japan, in both actors and directing. After the end of the occupation in 1952, these new players enjoyed an influx of free artistic expression, now with the means.

This article provides a key insight into Rashomon’s reception in the years immediately after its release, both within in home country and abroad. It also explicates specifics as to the styles and characteristics of Rashomon and Kurosawa, its director. Finally, it places the film and its director in the context of both Japan, in a cultural and artistic cinematic sense, as well as in the larger, global cinematic community.

    Woudenberg, René van. “Thomas Reid on Memory.” Journal of the History of Philosophy 37.1 (1999): 117-133.

    This paper by René van Woudenberg discusses Thomas Reid’s view on memory. The paper offers a philosophical perspective on the nature of the human intellect and the faculty of memory. Reid provides a distinction between memory and perception, saying that memory is a “knowledge of things past,” whereas perception is a “knowledge of things present.” Therefore, the things we remember are separate and inapplicable to the things we perceive. Questions arise as to the way in which we remember things in the past and the possibility of remembering things in the future, such as an appointment the following week. Reid argues that a memory of the latter kind is merely a remembrance of the specific moment in which we learned the knowledge. Memory, therefore, is an “avenue of knowledge.” Reid’s ideas are met with many critics, specifically mentioned here is William Hamilton. Another interesting discussion is Reid’s correlation between memory and belief. Reid states that the presence of memory means that there is also belief. Where there is no belief, there can be no memory. This viewpoint leaves little room for the intentional reconstruction of memory. Next he brings up the intriguing notion of the perception of memory. B can check A’s memory, for example, but only with the predisposition belief in his own. This circularity of reliability he terms epistemic circularity. The question arises then on where does realism exist?

This article is extremely illuminating in the discussion of Kurosawa’s film Rashomon. Since the main argument of the film is the concept of human perceptions and altered reality, the audience questions not only the story as seen from each character but also the story itself. Can we ever be sure of what we are seeing and know for a fact what actually happened? We can only see what is shown to us through different character’s perspectives and then intermixed with our own. Even the witness, therefore, is an unreliable source to ascertain the truth of the crime. Reid’s article made me completely rethink whether I can trust what I see on the screen or how I react to it. Does a story exist if only our memory holds it?

    Joyce, Richard. “Cartesian Memory.” Journal of the History of Philosophy 35.3 (1997): 375-393.

    This paper, from a journal discussing the history of philosophy, examines Descartes’ theories on memory. Descartes places memory into two forms: the corporeal and the intellectual. In the discussion about corporeal memory, Descartes provides a scientific description of sensory functions, including the stimulation of nerve fibers and the reception by brain particles. Images transferred into our brain can originate from a physical stimuli or an imagined one. Intellectual memory, on the other hand, is independent of our body and unable to be logically illustrated on paper or in discourse. This title of the article, “Cartesian Memory,” comes into play here in the circularity of Descartes arguments on memory. He writes that all we can trust as true is what we perceive, yet states that such a perception if impossible without the guarantee of clarity and mental distinction. Perception negates truth in this argument. He cannot claim that his reasoning is true and right when memory cannot be trusted; hence the labeling of his discourses on memory as Cartesian, referring to the famous circular argument of his exposed in the now labeled “Cartesian Circle.”

This paper offers another interesting insight into the nature of memory. Descartes does bring up the interesting aspect of the biological nature of memory and perception, despite the overall fallibility of his claims. His misperception just further proves the power of viewpoints and self-assertion. This paper fits nicely with the Thomas Reid paper on memory also included in this project. Descartes belief in his correctness does not denote the actual accuracy of his statements. Again, the notion of individual fact versus actual fact can be applied to Kurosawa’s Rashomon. One can argue that perhaps the characters are not intentionally lying for self-affirmation but rather from an intrinsic error in their memory and reality. The concept of truth is again brought into question here.

    Darrell, Davis. “Reigniting Japanese Tradition with Hana-Bi.” Cinema Journal 40.4 (2001): 55-80. 

    This article, published in a cinema journal in 2001, reviews Kitano Takeshi’s 1997 film Hana-Bi, or “Fireworks,” in the context of Takeshi’s use of traditional Japanese icons in a modern, global gangster-film market. Immediately, the other main subject of the article is Akira Kurosawa, as demonstrated in the first sentence. In order to catch the audience’s interest, Takeshi is introduced as the greatest Japanese filmmaker since Akira Kurosawa by generic Western critics. The author, Darrell Davis, interrogates Takeshi’s personal message, however, when he questions whether “Japaneseness” in cinema is merely a marketing ploy by the filmmakers. He points to Takeshi’s meticulous attention to traditional Japanese customs in his films despite his public desire to be disavowed from a primarily Japanese identity. In a New York Times interview, for example, he criticizes Kurosawa’s adherence to stereotypical Japanese representations, while the next day asks for Kurosawa’s particular input and recommendations. Darrell asserts that perhaps Takeshi exploits the icon of Japanese cinema, Kurosawa, to garter a particular image for himself publicly, and then by censuring him plays a keen political tactic. Darrell moves on to the study of Takeshi’s work and Japanese cinema. He uses the three types of Japanese film as described by Kurosawa to structure the remainder of her analysis. According to Kurosawa, the three modes of Japanese film are the reflectionist, dialogic, and contamination models. Darrell ends by commenting on Hana-Bi’s release at the Cannes Film Festival and an ending remark on the work and Takeshi.

This article is useful to my study of Kurosawa’s Rashomon for two main reasons. First, the detailed descriptions of Kurosawa’s labeling of film genres offer a new level of discussion applicable to the film Rashomon. Secondly, the discourse about Kurosawa’s samurai films among the modern industry provides a look into the sustainability of Kurosawa’s films over time, of which his masterpiece Rashomon is included. Particularly, while many articles today celebrate Kurosawa’s work from a Western perspective, it is interesting to see how he is discussed by his Japanese peers.

    Susan. “Confronting Master Narratives: History as Vision in Miyazaki Hayao’s Cinema of De-assurance.” Positions: East Asia Cultures Critique 9.2 (2001): 467-493. 

    Susan Napier’s article discusses the cinematic master narratives in the context of Japanese cinema and the larger global cultural consciousness. Its main subject is Japanese filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki, though his work is described in view of his contemporaries and influences. Napier begins by discussing the broad ideas of modernization vs. history and the role of cultural identity in art and cinema. She asserts that films have the power to “write history” and “create national identity” on the global stage. She points to the crucial post-WWII period in Japan when Japanese cinema first made its mark. Specfically, she credits Akira Kurosawa and his jidaigeki, “period films,” with their realism and dazzling visual aesthetics, as being the most influential Japanese filmmaker at the time. In his films, Kurosawa both “exploit[ed] and deconstruct[ed] the mythology of samurai.” His films powerfully brought humanity to the Japanese traditions and brought the past into the contemporary discussion of Japanese identity. Similarly, the animator Miyazaki, of the title of the piece, created scenes and characters that while being decidedly Japanese are individual in their personalities and actions. Notably, this characterization can be seen in Miyazaki’s many female protagonists, who stand out from their group-oriented traditional counterparts. The article then focuses on Miyazaki’s film Princess Mononoke, comparing it to the English powerhouse animation counterpart, Disney.

The relevance of this article to my project is found beyond the simple citing of Kurosawa’s influence and works. The real insights came from the comparisons of Miyazaki’s style and that of Kurosawa. Miyazaki is cited as criticizing Kurosawa’s formulaic depictions of good and evil in his samurai films. However, it seems clear in the larger sense that Kurosawa’s humanism did anything but adhere to clichés. He brought life into historical stereotypes. Furthermore, Princess Mononoke is praised as being “history as vision,” or representing in a new light a “historical reality,” recognizable yet distinctly unique. What style could better apply here than that of Kurosawa and his Rashomon-effect. Rashomon deals entirely with the reconstructions of identity through deceit and the power of perspective on redefining historical fact. The two directors offer a great deal of illumination to one another.

    Brion, Denis J. “Pluralism: Rashomon and Contested Conceptions of Criminality.” (2006) Washington & Lee Legal Studies Paper No. 2006-11.

    This paper is a Legal Studies paper written by Washington and Lee student Denis Brion in September 2006. In his paper, he uses the film Rashomon as the basis for his argument about pluralism in human perception carried into the various degrees of criminality. The film depicts four different reports of a violent crime in twelfth century Japan, told by three participators and one witness. These four perspectives are the extended to elaborate on the four modes of criminality and the four levels of individual human consciousness using the California Supreme Court case Taylor vs. Supreme Court as the specific case study. By providing a deep analysis of the aesthetics within the film Rashomon, Brion contends that the United States judicial system works as well by aesthetic acts. He begins by providing a close textual analysis of the four different storytellers in the film: the bandit, the woman, the man, and the witness. In parallel, he then goes on to closely evaluate the Taylor vs. Supreme Court case. Brion then extrapolates his argument into the subject of human nature playing its role in each case. After describing the four levels of consciousness alluded to above, he writes, in a phrase with which Kurosawa would surely agree with, that “perception is a hypothesis; and the reality we perceive is an interpretation.”

Primarily, this paper is extremely useful in a study of Kurosawa’s film Rashomon since it provides a scene by scene close textual analysis of the four different reports shown in the film. Furthermore, it provides a unique insight into the deeper human nature described in the film. Finally, its emphasis on a legal studies perspective in the discussion of the paper provide an important view on the nature of crime in the film, a point that is often overlooked in the greater narrative of perception.

    Thomas, Kevin. “Movies: Kurosawa Retrospective: Films That Won the West.” Los Angeles Times 9 Jan. 1983: T16.

    This article is a retrospective on director Akira Kurosawa’s body of work and appeared in the Los Angeles Times on January 9, 1983. At this point in Kurosawa’s career, he warrants the description in the opening paragraph of the article as “the world’s greatest living director.” The article’s subject relates to the retrospective being exhibited in Kurosawa’s honor at the County Art Museum. The author Kevin Thomas then goes on to enumerate the many unique accomplishments and characteristics of Kurosawa which earned him the title attributed above. He states that above all Kurosawa’s films evoke a powerful, lingering response in the viewer, of any background. The author is clearly well-versed in the language of film, as he sites the specifics of Kurosawa’s mise en scène, camera movement, and overall narrative. He gives interesting insight into Kurosawa’s training, including his frequent family outings to movies in his youth, training as a painter and calligrapher, his work as a narrator for foreign silent, and being an apprentice screenwriter in accord with Japanese tradition. He points out that while Kurosawa brought Japanese cinema to the world stage, he stands out in his own community as a dynamic, and therefore Western, anomaly among traditional Japanese cinematographers.

This article provides a nice summary of the works of Akira Kurosawa, while highlighting with key example the reasons for his critical success in global cinema. The author balances the overall influence of Kurosawa culturally with specifics of technical film analysis. The information on Rashomon is very in depth, seeing as it’s the film which first established Kurosawa and Japanese cinema in the world’s eye. Consequently, the film is given much attention in the article and has some useful analysis passages. The quotes incorporated from Kurosawa himself paint the picture of the man and his work very well and give the reader insight into what drives this innovative man and therefore his work. Overall, he is depicted as human; yet his work makes him immortal.

    The article “No Jade, No Peonies” by James Kelly appeared in the New York Times November 30, 1952. It is an introductory review to the translation of Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s book No Jade, No Peonies: Rashomon and Other Stories. The article focuses mainly on Akutagawa the writer rather than his specific works; though the story “Into the Grove” is focused upon. It is cited for its significance as the basis for Akira Kurosawa’s film Rashomon released the year before and accordingly the reason for Akutagawa’s recognition abroad.

The other works cited in this project focus on Kurosawa’s perspective on the story “Into the Grove” into his film Rashomon, and stress the director’s interest in the human use of facade to gain self-affirmation and thereby happiness. Overall, Kurosawa’s outlook on humanity is a positive one rather than inherently bad. Kelly, however, describes Akutagawa as quite different in his attitudes toward man. With “Into the Grove,” for example, Akutagawa was exercising a study in human “deceit, treachery, and heartlessness.” What are pitiable, indulgent lies to Kurosawa would be proofs of man’s innate wickedness to Akutagawa. This illumination between the source material and adaptation, therefore, is particularly interesting to a study of the film Rashomon. The dissimilar translation of the story from paper to film ironically fits rather well with a narrative concerned solely with individual perspective. The strict moralistic tones of Akutagawa still resonate within the film’s story, however, and it would be intriguing to study how both the filmmaker and original author complement each other. The two seem to share common traits despite their aesthetic leanings. Kurosawa attempted suicide, and Akutagawa died by suicide at the age of 35. The examination of the man Akutagawa helps illuminate Akira Kurosawa by association and also his film adaptation Rashomon.