Plot Details: This opinion reveals minor details about the movie's plot.

The common misconception about Akira Kurosawa’s 1950 film Rashomon is that it’s a film concerned about ultimate truth and just how fleeting the truth can really be. Kurosawa does certainly make that part of the theme in Rashomon, but to see it so simply does something of a disservice to the filmmaker.

Instead, as my friend and colleague Alex Jackson points out, Rashomon isn’t so much about how truth filtered through individual perceptions becomes a malleable thing, but is instead about the truth and how the four main characters will appear in its light. Rashomon isn’t a film that’s ever concerned with absolute truth (witnessed by the fact that Kurosawa never gives us any kind of legitimate resolution as to what truly happened on that day in the forest), but is instead a film that showcases how an individual’s self-perception can allow them to color events so that they remain true to who they are.

The film tells a deceptively simple tale. A woodcutter and a priest describe a murder to a commoner while holed up waiting for a rainstorm to pass. In the story, a samurai, Takehiro (Masayuki Mori) is escorting his wife Masako (Machiko Kyo) through a forest. They encounter the bandit Tajomaru (Toshiro Mifune), who lusts after the wife and intends to take her for himself. The only thing that is certain is that Takehiro winds up dead—Tajomaru, Masako, Takehiro (through a medium), and the woodcutter (who found the body), will all recount the events as they believe they happened for the court. Figuring out what really happened is the task that the film leaves to the audience.

There are many things to like in Rashomon, but perhaps the most pleasing thing of all is the way that Kurosawa weaves a rich tale out of the repeated telling of what happened on that day. By the time the film is over, almost everyone will have claimed to kill Takehiro—including Takehiro himself. Rather than foist the blame onto one of the others, each character seems to step up and take the blame for him or herself. Why would characters do this? Figuring that out is the key to understanding both Rashomon, and to a degree, the Japanese culture in general.

Tajomaru’s tale tells of how the bandit became smitten with Masako after glimpsing her through the foliage. His love (or lust) for the woman leads him to tie up the husband, then have his way with the wife. However, in his version of events, he comes to duel with the samurai, an epic battle where the two cross swords 23 times…a record for Tajomaru and a testament to the dead samurai’s skill and ability.

Takehiro’s version has the samurai killing himself, out of shame for what’s happened to his wife.

The woodcutter’s tale tells of the battle between the two men (which was also showcased in Tajomaru’s story), but explains that neither warrior was quite the fighter they professed to be, as both spend the majority of the fight rolling around in the dirt.

Masako’s story claims that she killed Takehiro in a moment of extreme duress, then tried to kill herself but failed.

Yet, while each story is different, each also shares some things in common. It’s these common elements that are perhaps the most telling. I’ll not get into them here, so that you can experience them for yourself.

Why would these people each implicate themselves in the death of Takehiro? Because to each of the individuals, their own self-perception and the way others perceive them is far more important than what truly happened. Tajomaru is a great bandit, and as such, his tale goes to great lengths to demonstrate his skill with the sword. Anything less would tarnish his legend.

The samurai Takehiro must commit seppuku because he’s been dishonored. To live on after his wife’s rape would be to live not only in shame, but to shame the very name of his family. Therefore, honor dictates that he take his own life.

Masako is supposed to be the simple woman, the dutiful wife. She claims to kill Takehiro in a moment where she loses control, but then does her penance for her actions by trying to take her own life. It’s the only honorable thing she could do—and if she didn’t at least attempt to take her life, then she too will live on in shame.

Even the woodcutter, who was nothing more than an observer, must lie and say that Takehiro was killed by sword—because he’s taken the dagger, and in essence has become a thief. He can’t lose his own moral high ground, so he lies in order to keep it.

Rashomon is an enigma, a puzzle to be considered time and again, as the viewer continues to search for the ultimate truth. It’s a film where nothing is at it seems. The wife is not the meek and simple child her husband and Tajomaru believe her to be, the samurai isn’t a noble warrior, Tajomaru isn’t a great bandit, and the woodcutter isn’t the innocent bystander sickened by depravity. Because of this, Rashomon is a film that lingers with the viewer long after its ended—and one that lends itself to repeated viewings quite well.

If all that weren’t enough, one must also consider the technical skill that went into making this film. Kurosawa’s direction is distinctive and stylish, with numerous tracking shots that seem light years ahead of their time in terms of intricacy. Scene compositions (courtesy of cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa) are amazing, despite the fact that it’s a black and white film. While the bulk of Rashomon is comprised of one scene retold four times, Kurosawa and Miyagawa keep things so visually interesting that rewatching the same segment never becomes tedious. In short, Rashomon is a film that demonstrates many of Kurosawa’s strengths as a filmmaker.

Criterion has recently released Rashomon on DVD, and as is to be expected, it’s a fantastic package. The film features a new high-definition digital transfer with restored image and sound, a great commentary track with Japanese cinema authority Donald Ritchie, an introduction by Robert Altman, excerpts from The World of Kazuo Miyagawa--a documentary about the cinematographer (one of the best features on the disc, in my opinion), reprints of the original stories that inspired the film, and a reprinted excerpt from Kurosawa himself on the film from his book Something like an Autobiography. Once again, Criterion has gone the extra mile for film fans. Just having the film on DVD would have been great, but the extras make it disc that belongs in any serious cinephile’s personal library.

Rashomon is an amazing film, of this there is no doubt. Not only is it an interesting exercise in philosophy concerning the nature of the truth and how our own individual perceptions alter it whether we mean to or not, but it’s also an intense character study. If that weren’t enough, it’s one of the landmark Japanese films in cinema history—a film that introduced the power and majesty of Japanese cinema to the world at large. Because of that, Rashomon gets five stars from me. Adding this film to your collection is a no brainer.


Recommended: Yes

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening