by Ted Prigge
A Kinnopio film writer
A passionate perspective
RAN
opens peacefully, with numerous static shots of gorgeous green hills,
but at the same time there are shots of soldiers waiting for god knows what
and forboding music that starts and stops, creating an eerie, unsettling
atmosphere. It's still almost tough to believe that by the end, almost all
of the chief characters will die horrific deaths, and thousands of
innocents will be mercilessly slaughtered.
"Ran" is loosely based on "King Lear," the great Shakespeare play about
that point in your life when you look back at everything you've done and
hope to be able to rely on all of it as a backbone for rest and relaxation
in the last years of one's life. When King Lear looked back, though, he
saw that everything was not well. In fact, he discovered his justful
arrogance let loose to ignorance, and that all of the horrible things he
had done in his life and all of those things that were the opposite of what
he believed all came to haunt him simulataneously.
Looking at this story, which has been told countless times, it hardly seems
like it needed to be told again, not the least in the form of a classic
samurai melodrama as directed by Japan's greatest director, the
recently-late Akira Kurosawa, who had directed such masterpieces as "The
Seven Samurai" and "Rashomon," amongst numerous others. But then again,
Kurosawa's films were never mere "samurai melodramas," not even his most
popcorn-y films as "The Hidden Fortress."
Kurosawa directed "Ran" at the age of 75, nearly blind, relying on others
to help him conceive his shots, and allowing for an effortless R rating
with the most graphic, gory violence he had ever done, not even in "The
Seven Samurai." His reason for directing this was, most likely, out of
fear that he was in fact Lear himself, as is the fear of anyone who has
ever read or seen the play performed before. With decades of films that
were almost consecutively praised by critics and audiences alike as
masterpieces, perhaps he was fearing that his numerous accomplishments
would give way to haughty arrogance, and that perhaps there were things
going on behind his back that he didn't know.
The story itself deals with an aging Japanese Lord, Hidetora (Tatsuya
Nakadai), who decides at the point in his life when he feels that he has
achieved everything he has wanted to achieve, and that everything is fair
in his land, to finally retire. He decides to divide his land into three,
shelved out to his three sons, Taro, Jiro, and Saburo (Akira Terao,
Jinpachi Nezu, and Daisuke Ryu, respectively), with the most prominent
lands given in order of age. In one scene, he decides to demonstrate the
fallacy that this will all work out well by showing them that one arrow can
easily be broken, but when three are together, it is much more difficult to
break.
Sadly, though, Saburo disagrees with his father, and will have no part in
it. Hidetora, without hardly a pause, banishes his son, as well as anyone
who stands up for him. But when he tries living with each of his two sons
he still holds in high adoration, he discovers that they have different
plans, and they soon drive him away one by one. Without any sons to fall
back on, he retires with his army and numerous concubines to Saburo's old
deserted castle, where a ghastly battle occurs over his possession between
his army and the armies of Taro and Jiro, both who now only think of him as
someone in the way and not even as their father.
Joined only by the faithful comic relief, Kyoami, the Fool (played by
Peter...just Peter), and an old assistant, Tango (Masayuki Yui), Hidetora
ends up wandering around the landscape, slowly but surely growing madder
and madder. But as he loses his sanity, things continue to get worse
around him. A plot develops after Taro is killed in battle between his
widow, Lady Kaede (Mieko Harada), and Jiro, who begins to control the
weakest brother, and an old wound opens when Hidetora stumbles upon an old
foe who's eyes he poked out when he was a kid.
The entire story has been told many many times before, but it really needs
someone who understands what this story entails. There are many a
contradiction in the telling of the story, such as the optimism of a good
life's led bringing about a pessimism of everything to come. Kurosawa has
no doubtedly had these thoughts, knowing the chronicle of his life, and he
ends up telling "Ran" with an understanding of these paradoxes, as well as
with some major opposites. There are two major battle sequences in this
film, for example, and the way they're handled directly contradict the way
the other scenes are handled.
His battle scenes are gory, gratuitous, unevenly paced, and merciless.
Most importantly, very little is accomplished in them. But most of the
film is filled with chamber-like scenes of people talking, but very much
happens. Take for example a scene where Lady Kaede confronts Jiro about
her husband's death, and during the course of the scene, threatens his
life, seduces him, and totally usurps any power he ever had. As such, it
takes great patience to watch "Ran," since everything is told at a
leisurely pace, disappointing anyone who thought that "Ran" was just "King
Lear, only with samurais and gore."
But the reason "Ran" really works is because it's a great story that is
told exceptionally well. Kurosawa's style really works becuase it allows
us to look at the drama of the story. The reason we should be motivated to
sit through all 160 minutes without a break should not be because every
hour and 10 minutes, there's a really nifty battle scene. It's because it
transcends all that and really tells the story. A film is never more
boring when it's filled with shallow characters taking the easy way out of
very dilemna they're charged with. "Ran" gives its characters numerous
connundrums, and by the end, everything has been dealt with so badly that
it becomes exactly what the title translates to: Chaos.
Watching "Ran," it's easy to see why Kurosawa is so heavily received
commercially and critically: he doesn't bullshit his audience with a style
that ultimately overcomes the story, and he always worries about the way
his characters are handled. Visually, the design is incredible. The film
is beautifully shot, and the color scheme in this film is brilliant.
During the battle scenes, each army is fitted with a certain color, and
when they clash together, it's one of the most breathtaking images ever to
grace the screen. His story-telling is wonderful: he paces the film slowly
so that all the elements effortlessly come out, and never feel forced.
Watching Hidetora's life crumble around upon him is simply stunning, and it
could have easily been ruined by direction that was quick and jolting.
I've seen "Ran" twice, once by myself, and another time in a small college
theatre with a crowd who was less enthused than I was about the way the
film was made. "Ran" holds up for multiple viewings because of the passion
that it is told with. We can sense the pain Kurosawa has when he tells the
story of Hidetora, so much that he shoots most of everything from a safe
distance, maybe hinting that he hopes we never have to arrive at a point
like Hidetora's, or Lear's. But when watching this, when we see how he
deftly controls his characters and his scenes, and how everything is told
with the right amount of looseness and structure, then I guess that at this
point, Kurosawa ironically had very little to worry about.
Ted Prigge, 1985
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