For starters, I’d have to say that Martin Scorsese doesn’t so much star as appear briefly, but I expect his name had to appear prominently in order for the film to be considered for the Globes (I’m not suggesting any bias, lordy lordy no). And when he does appear, he’s not that impressive.
Okay, sledging aside, I can now review the movie. And a fine movie it is too: Kurosawa uses childhood memories, Japanese traditions, and his own moral views to construct a loosely-connected series of episodes rich in visual imagery. The overall mood is melancholy: none of the sequences except the last could be considered cheerful, and many are sad, depressing, or otherwise downbeat.
This melancholy is used effectively to convey a message. One sequence, called ‘The Tunnel”, shows a Commander confronting the soldiers that he sent off to die. One lone soldier, clearly dead, points out his house in the valley below: “My parents are there,” he says. His stoic, expressionless refusal to admit that he is dead, and his reluctance to return to the tunnel from which he marched, give an unusual but highly effective portrayal of one of the horrors of war. And this scene is followed by another, in which the entire company (note that the subs say “Platoon”, but I think a platoon is larger) return to salute the Commander. Rank upon rank of grey, emotionless faces stare back at him, all unwilling to believe that they’re dead, as he confesses that their deaths are due to his orders. I must confess, though, to being puzzled by the barking dog with a bunch of grenades strapped to its back. Perhaps it wants to get the grenades off so it can roll around in the dirt.
On a lighter note, one of the scenes, “The Peach Orchard”, contains a stately and graceful dance performed in a peach orchard (yes, I know that will surprise you). The costumes worn by the characters, representing peach festival dolls come to life, are sumptuous and colourful: the kimonos, quilted winter ones by the look, are worn layered one over the other as courtly costumes apparently were, and are lovelier than a hatful of lovely things. The music is measured and slow, and the dance is enhanced by the white, mask-like faces of the dolls: very regal, and very evocative.
The last four sequences are tied together by the central character, a hatted, bag-toting tourist, who interacts with those in his path. Said path leads him through a wheat field sporting a busy Van Gogh, past the destruction of Mt Fuji as six nuclear reactors blow, into the demon-peopled devastation that results, and finally to a quiet village alongside a rapid stream. Kurosawa’s message here is as subtle as a brick: humanity is spoiling the world, with pollution, consumerism and ignorance. Since I agree wholeheartedly, I found these sequences inoffensive, but I imagine someone of more mainstream opinions might be annoyed.
Nonetheless, the film is slow but enjoyable. The main downside for me was the pace: accustomed as I am to the lightning pace of Hong Kong films, I found myself twitching towards the remote control to skip through on several occasions. I can see, though, how that silent, measured pace was vital to the construction of the whole film, since the message could not have been adequately conveyed otherwise. Overall, it was a good film, but one perhaps not entirely to my taste.
I’ll leave you with a quote from the teak-faced villager placidy mending his waterwheel: “What’s important is clean air and clean water.” No matter what your views, you can’t argue with that.