In the chapter A New Kind of Film Adaptation, Chatman counters the critique often aimed at film adaptations based on literature: that film adaptations take away from the audience's use of imagination by displaying everything on screen. Noted scholar Wolfgang Iser is quoted by Chatman saying that, "The point here is that the reader is able to visualize the hero virtually for himself. The moment these possibilities are narrowed down to one complete and immutable picture, the imagination is put out of action." Chatman argues that the imagination is not excluded by the visual medium of film and much can be left for the audience to imagine. In particular, dialogue and narration do not always present what the characters are thinking or feeling in film. For example, body language and expression often go unexplained by direct conversation or even diegetic context in the film.

Chatman mentions Rashomon as an excellent adaptation that invokes the audience's imagination. Although Kurosawa directly translates the dialogue and storyline from which the film is based onto the screen, the film still leaves it to the audience's imagination to try and resolve incongruities and figure out what actually happened. Each of the stories in Rashomon represents what the characters think and believe, however, imagination is not limited by this straightforward presentation of the characters' perspective. In fact, it turns out that these presentations are not straightforward after all. Although everything is presented to the audience visually, there is room to play with and entice the imagination of the audience.

In many ways, the term he uses, imagination, may be inadequate. What he is referring to is the workings of the human mind in its entirety. Rashomon inspires thoughts that do not fall under the scope of imagination, namely critical-thinking, rationalism and emotion. These thought processes make the audience active participants in the film.

Jarvie's chapter Rashomon: Is Truth Relative? discusses the film from a philosophical standpoint and examines what he calls the "Rashomon problem" as proposed by the film in the 1950's - simply, which person's storyline described in the film is true? Or is it even that none of them true as they are all mutually exclusive? Kurosawa does not imply that the samurai did not exist, or that the wife did not lose her husband. Instead, the construction of events, based on single-person perception tells "truths" based on their individual points-of-view.

In Rashomon, the audience is deliberately given too much information. They cannot coherently piece together the contradictory details and create a cogent picture of what happened. Jarvie argues that the film is more than only the truth relative to a point of view; it is also about each reality that the subjective truths attempt to describe and how those truths are interpreted through the character's perception of events.

Kurosawa uses several film techniques to show different points-of-view in Rashomon. He knows that the audience is able to transition across cuts to deduce what is going on; techniques such as eyeline matching, seamless sound, and complementary point-of-view shots, enable the audience is able to fill in the gaps between cuts. But Jarvie argues that Kurosawa goes beyond these simple editing tricks by showing the audience that in one setting, events are presented in a manner in which the mind cannot reconstruct. Hence, transitioning is made difficult, and the audience's sense of reality is thwarted. This effect is intentional and induces the audience to think about relativity in truth.

In addition, Kurosawa plays with point-of-view through the film's cinematography. Although each story is told from a first-person perspective, the cuts in the scene and the shifting of the camera do not make it clear who is speaking. The eye-witness is not in a fixed position, as to be assumed in first-person, and the point of view is shifted from one eye-witness to several. This freedom in filming that Kurosawa incorporates makes Rashomon even more of a challenge to the audience to view the chain of events as truth, which the audience may never solve.

The film Rashomon was based on the combination of two short stories written by Ryunosuke Akutagawa: Rashomon (1915) and In a Bamboo Grove (1921). Rashomon tells the story a slave waiting beneath the ruins of the city gate, anxious of what strong rain will bring him after it stops. The slave had been recently discharged by his master and was struggling for survival. The story provides a poignant account of the devastation sweeping the city.

In a Bamboo Grove tells the story of a murdered samurai and of his wife's rape from several points of view. The accounts provided by the characters are conflicting and the story provides no resolution to the crime. The reader can only hypothesize as to what really happened in the grove.

Kurosawa uses the short story Rashomon for one of the settings in his film. He omits the characters, and focuses instead on Akutagawa's vivid descriptions of the city in decline. In a Bamboo Grove, on the other hand, provides the plot for Rashomon. The film is an almost exact adaptation of the story to the screen, except that Kurosawa hints at meaning behind the conflicting accounts by tying in elements of the short story Rashomon. The city gate ruins are where the woodcutter and the priest retell the curious events of that day, which contribute to the overall mood of the film. The setting is a devastating image of the city, and similarly, the manner in which the characters acted is found to be depressing. The priest brings together this metaphor: the strong rains and dark skies represent his loss of faith in man. Also, the ending and the change in the setting provide some symbolic explanation about the characters as well. As the priest's faith in man is restored, the sun appears and the skies clear up.

The synthesis of the two short stories allows Kurosawa to provide a unique interpretation of the narrative in In a Bamboo Grove.

Something like an Autobiography is a first-hand account of director Akira Kurosawa's thoughts concerning his breakthrough film, Rashomon. About some thirty years after he directed it, Kurosawa recalls almost every aspect of the film, from the production, to the underlying message, to the film techniques used. His intentions for the film are precisely what film scholars and analysts have hypothesized in their work: that the film is about the inability of man to tell the truth without embellishment and without tendencies towards self-preservation, and that the cinematography, lighting and editing all contribute to the mood of the film.

However, what is most interesting is that Kurosawa applies these perspectives to his own life as well. In his book's epilogue, he relates the story of a studio director who boasts about the success of Rashomon, without even referring to himself (Kurosawa) or the cinematographer. The human weakness he portrayed in the film does surface in real life. He then goes on to describe his autobiography and how it is completely possible that he left out negative facets of himself and doubts complete honesty in its presentation, once again showing tendencies to show oneself in the best possible way.

The way in which Kurosawa relates the theme of Rashomon to his own life leads the reader to think about the film's relation to their own life as well. Because the director self-analyzed himself in the book, the reader's drive to self-analyze is made stronger. In addition, the degree of variation to the stories in Rashomon is large enough that it may render the film a bit unrealistic. The points-of-view of the characters are just so different that attributing it to the relativity of perception may seem like a stretch. However, Kurosawa's autobiography brings the theme of the film down to earth and emphasizes the question proposed in the film: how do humans represent themselves?

In a way, this first-hand account of Rashomon validates the analysis done on the film. The fact that the views of those behind the camera and those who only see post-production coincide is a testament to the effectiveness and success of the intent and the techniques used in the film. One should take this into account in assessing Rashomon's impact on cinema.

Bordwell differentiates the narrative between the classical and modernist styles of writing and cinema in his chapter Objectivity, Subjectivity, Authority. In classical cinema, reality is coherent and consistent with individual identity. On the other hand, modernist cinema considers the mind's perceptions and reality as well, with individuals treating it as if it were "objective like the world before us." Hence, variations in character psychology are put on the spotlight. Also, modern cinema is characterized by what Bordwell calls a "boundary situation," where the turn of events makes the character aware of significant human issues. Through a flash of insight, the character realizes the meaning of human existence. According to Bordwell, this boundary situation is often present in modernist films and which enables the film to explain the mental states and emotions of the characters. Lastly, he also suggests that because modernist cinema holds truth from a relative view point, modernist narration focuses the attention of the audience on others aspects construction of the film, and moreover, calls for a higher level of interpretation.

Through his differentiation between classical and modernist cinema, in light of narrative style, Bordwell classifies Rashomon as a modernist film. He doesn't delve into Rashomon in particular, but he is right on point in describing the film style that Kurosawa employed. First of all, the film unravels from subjective points-of-view, four in particular with one of them repeated at the end. Rashomon does not reveal which storyline is true, but it is certainly possible that the characters think of their versions as objective. Secondly, as the story concludes, the audience sees the woodcutter in a boundary situation: the woodcutter realizes how much mankind can be self-centered and egoistic. In coming to this realization, he knows that it applies to himself as well: in feigning innocence, he does not tell the complete truth to the high court. This spurs him to reverse compensate and carry out a benevolent act by adopting an abandoned child. These events call for interpretation from the audience, and it is through this analysis that one is able to understand the character of the woodcutter in the film.

In his book, Goodwin carefully examines each of the five points-of-view presented in Rashomon. He suggests that the overarching motivation of the conflicting accounts reflects each character's "egoism," each tells their story in a manner that is most favorable to themselves. In particular, the woodcutter emphasizes his non-involvement in the crime, even though it is later implied that he is guilty of stealing the woman's dagger. The bandit projects an image of heroism and romanticism, and that "grand passion" was the motive for his actions. The wife's story emphasizes herself as the victim in the situation, with the bandit taking advantage of her and her samurai husband ultimately betraying her. Similar to the wife, the samurai perceives himself as the victim in the situation, reflected in his suicide as a desperate act of passion. Finally, the story goes back to the woodcutter who is led to re-tell his version of the events. This time, he discredits the other characters to maintain his own innocence and credibility.

Through Goodwin's picking through the details of Rashomon, the truth in the first-person narrative is examined. One could deduce that all of the characters in the film are lying. But, it is also reasonable to hypothesize that the intensity of the situation the characters were in could have forced a change in their perception of the situation. From the way the Kurosawa directs the film, each account is made ambiguous because each character is trying to project a positive image for his/herself, either deliberately or accidentally. The film, as a whole, then brings to mind questions beyond finding the crime's solution and the explicit credibility of the characters. The film instead raises higher-order questions examining the motives in which the events are told. Thus, Rashomon is not only to be looked at for the veracity in first-person narratives, but also for the driving forces influencing the characters behind those narratives.

In this essay, Van Es discusses the important influence of societal roles in traditional Japanese society and compares them to the way the stories in Rashomon unfold. He suggests that the characters are not able to tell the truth under certain circumstances, because the social roles predetermined in the feudal Japanese society forbid them to do so. Marriage was a highly socially-significant institution during the Heian era, where Rashomon is set. Hence, the characters' mindset is impacted by powerful, external forces. The social aspect of an individual is a necessary part of the personal aspect: the two are almost inseparable. In effect, the characters present their stories in a way that is fitting for the role strongly demanded of them. Van Es suggests that this drives each of them to divulge a different version of the story.

Rashomon, in part, deals with marriage customs and faithfulness between partners. In examining Japanese marriage customs during this period, one can see how valid relativity of truth is as a proposed explanation for the differences in the characters' point-of-view. How strongly the Japanese society demands certain social roles of its inhabitants influence how personal perception of events changes in trying to conform to these roles. In particular, it was absolutely unthinkable for the samurai to have been humiliated in his perspective, which then led to commit suicide. Also, it was unimaginable for the wife to have had two sexual partners. So much so that she believed that she must kill one of them. Hence, she is led to killing her own husband.

Stressing the importance of social roles in the Japanese society makes one see how it can cause emotional distress so strong as to skew each of the perceptions of the characters in Rashomon. It is reasonable to attribute the disparities in point-of-view to the relativity of truth. Effectively, truth is relative because it is seen within the framework of what society demands. The characters' social roles impacted them so greatly that their subjective points of view were drastically altered.

As part of an emerging literature between law and film, Kamir talks about the influence of legal films on the understanding of law, society and culture. Apart from portraying legal situations, he argues that films can unconsciously evoke the audience to engage in its own judging process. Then, films play an active role in using its plot, characters and imagery to create a general representation of legal and social issues. Kamir points out that the audience comprises society's "jurors, judges and reasonable people," and that legal films have real-world impact.

Kamir describes Rashomon as one the classic and most powerful courtroom films ever made. The manner in which the story unfolds is an influential and complex insight not only on human condition but on the nature of legal processes in a socio-cultural context as well. It alerts the audience to the possibility that truth is completely subjective, and legal processes evaluate subjective rather than objective truths against each other. He refers to the film as a participant in society's perception of legal proceedings, and to some extent, in society's self-formation.

That Rashomon may have an impact more than just on the cinema world is an interesting idea to explore. First of all, it speaks of the film's powerful delivery and effectiveness. Second, because it deals with issues that are extremely relevant to society, it sparks thought that is not limited to the theoretical or philosophical aspects of human condition. Instead, its impact extends to the practical and socially significant aspects as well. The seemingly simple story of the death of a samurai, made complex by the different versions it is told by goes far beyond the confines of the film's single setting to real institutions such as the courtroom.