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.

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.