(Japan 1980 180m) DVD1/2
Aka. The Shadow Warrior
Immovable as a mountain
p Akira Kurosawa d Akira Kurosawa w Akira Kurosawa, Masato Ide ph Kazuo Miyagawa, Asaichi Nakai, Takao Saito, Shoji Ueda m Shinchiro Ikebe art Yoshiro Muraki
Tatsuya Nakadai (Lord Shingen Takeda/Kagemusha), Tsutomu Yamazaki (Nobukado Takeda), Kenichi Hagiwara (Katsuyori Takeda), Hideji Otaki (Masakage Yamagata), Kota Yui (Takemaru), Hideo Murota (Nobufasa Baba), Daisuke Ryu (Nobunaga Oda), Jinpachi Nezu (Sohachiro Tsuchiya), Takashi Shimura (Gyobu Taguchi),
At the time of its release, in the west at least, Kagemusha was hailed as a supreme return to form from a master returned from the wilderness. Certainly it was his best film for years, but when the splendour of Ran followed it five years later, it seemed that Kagemusha had been, in retrospect, the dress rehearsal for the real main event. Kagemusha was, in many ways, perhaps, the double of Ran, holding fort until the real one was well enough to take over. The story of how it came to be made, financed and co-produced by Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas – his way of repaying his stealing the plot of Star Wars from The Hidden Fortress – and then was cut by twenty minutes in the States and much of Europe, is well known. As is the fact that many critics turned their back on Kagemusha, the sort of film intellectuals were to afraid to call tedious.
Set in 1573, Lord Shingen is a powerful, ruthless, but loyally-followed warlord who is laying siege to his enemies when his brother, who frequently impersonates him in battle so he can be elsewhere, introduces him to a thief saved from crucifixion because of his remarkable resemblance to the lord. He is instructed to learn to behave like the lord in case of emergency, but then the lord is fatally wounded by a sniper’s bullet and, when he finally dies, the double is hired to be his Kagemusha, not just part-time but 24/7, a task which he doubts he will be up to, but which he begins to enjoy. One by one, Shingen’s enemies try and find out whether the rumours of Shingen’s death are true, but the ruse is maintained for nigh on three years until it is finally discovered when the Kagemusha is thrown from Shingen’s horse. Now useless to the generals, his is sent packing, to wander in the wilderness and fall into insanity.
The quasi-Shakespearean leanings are clear to see, and the chaos of Ran, with its fateful battles, can be seen here in the numerous extended battle sequences, and notably in the final vainglorious slaughter. (It’s sometimes hard to recall that all this is taking place at exactly the same time as Catherine dei Medici, Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots were alive, the only link to the west in the form of Catholic missionaries who pop up to chant Latin in a couple of sequences.) There’s also Kurosawa’s imperious use of form and mise-en-scene, most notably in his framing of the Kagemusha in relation to his surroundings, and in terms of the endless, mythical shots of soldiers marching slowly along magnificent vistas, from blood red skies to in front of snow-topped mountains, from over muddy plains to being lit by gorgeous sunsets. Gorgeously costumed and designed, and ravishingly photographed (not by the great Kazuo Miyagawa as many sources state) in a way which manages to be both muted in its study of the power of nature, yet vibrant in highlighting the rich colours of the court wardrobe. True that there are parts which might stretch the patience of the average viewer, but Kurosawa’s eye for detail is as sure as ever, maintaining a hypnotic, almost trance-like power from beginning to its truly dream-like finale. The slow pace allowing us to savour every detail, and feel true emotion at sequences such as the Kagemusha’s uncanny impersonation of Shingen in front of his attendants, with that imperious twirl of the moustache. He’s also helped by a superb performance from old regular Taysuya Nakadai, who brings forth memories of both Kurosawa’s and other samurai films. It may not quite be Ran, but this rehearsal is worth a dozen main events.
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Obviously, I don’t quite agree that Lucas “stole” from Kurosawa for “Star Wars”– again, if you’re looking for true creative theft, point your finger at Sturge’s lazy “Magnificent Seven”, Leone and the shot-for-shot shamelessness of “A Fistful of Dollars”, or that western version of “Rashomon” with William Shatner (I kid you not). Still, Kurosawa himself “stole” from guys like Shakespeare and Dostoyevsky all the time, so in any case I’d say it’s a fitting tribute (except for Leone, who he rightfully sued for downright plagiarism).
Now that’s out of the way– “Kagemusha” is a movie that rather unfairly is pushed into the shadow of “Ran”. Granted, Kurosawa’s version of King Lear is very likely the best film he ever did, and certainly his best color film, but “Kagemusha” is a true stand-alone gem that deserves far more credit than it gets. As far as pure visuals go, it’s one of the best works that highlights Kurosawa’s use of composition, color and especially light, and the story’s focus on a man and his double works effectively as a parable of the nature of identity. If I have any complaints with this film, it’s only that the sheer beauty of the setting and aesthetic gives it a truly magical quality– at its lightest moments, it feels like a fairy tale, standing in stark contrast with the brutal realities which await its characters.
Still, it’s a small issue, and one with merits of its own. It may be a minor masterpiece from Kurosawa, but that only says so much about the heights and volume of the rest of his career.
I’m embarrassed to say that the pleasure I take in Kagemusha and Ran has always been blunted by the fact that Nakadai played these roles–and not Mifune. Obviously, it’s unfair to blame one actor for not being another. But for me, Nakadai is an extremely skillful journeyman, while Mifune had incomparable charisma, power of personality and physical authority. I’ve wasted many, many moments in bitterly rueing the day that Kurosawa and Mifune fell into a feud (over the two-year length of filming Red Beard), robbing us of collaborations in Kagemusha and Ran that Mifune would have inhabited so naturally. Nakadai is touching in Ran, but what I miss here is at least a shadow of the raging monster-who-could-not-be-withstood that the character is supposed to have been. Mifune could have done that in spades. Also, the Kagemusha is supposed to begin as a sly, shameless rogue. Nakadai is only ACTING roguery here. Essentially, I feel he was miscast. Kurosawa carried his loyalty to old friends too far–except in the case of the one former friend who could have lifted these two films to higher levels of greatness. For me, Nakadai’s only completely satisfying performance was as the beautiful, vicious young sociopath in Yojimbo.