As an early work from one of the pioneers of world cinema – Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa – Rashomon is a movie of ideas first and foremost, albeit ideas that are brilliantly framed. There is little room for subtext here. Matters of truth and human nature are debated in an anguished, grandiose acting style that can be jarring to contemporary, Western eyes. Rashomon takes place in the woods of 11th-century Japan, where a bandit (Toshiro Mifune) encounters an aristocrat and his wife. He rapes the woman and kills her husband but is later caught and brought before a court, where everyone involved gives conflicting testimonies about the crime. Rashomon‘s true value is visual, as Kurosawa frames each image with a painter’s care (indeed, he began his career by studying painting at an art school in the West). The dappled sunlight he captures through the forest’s leaves is deceptively idyllic, while the torrential rain that dominates the opening and closing scenes more appropriately matches the overall mood of despair. Perhaps the reason much of the talking in Rashomon feels unnecessary – particularly the moralizing between the woodcutter (Takashi Shimura) who finds the husband’s body and a priest (Minoru Chiaki) – is because the picture’s strongest moments play like a silent film. Each of the reenactments of the crime itself could be taken from an early melodrama, with the three players taking turns playing the villain and victim depending on who is telling the tale.
