Beauty, Philosophy, and Film

Rashomon

Akira Kurosawa’s “Rashomon” (1950) is an influential reflection upon humankind and society, simultaneously being a beautiful work of art. The plot is carried out by multiple flashbacks and memories of a rape of a woman, the murder, or suicide, of her husband, and the alleged criminal Tajamoru. The flashbacks and testimonials are told by a woodcutter, priest, and commoner at the shelter of a ruined building from the heavy rainfall. This film brilliantly plays with our perception of reality through film (we watch the “same” thing four times! In fact, the majority of the film is lies captured through corrupted recollections!) The two aspects of this film that I will delve deeper into are Kurosawa’s usage of camera and the philosophical ideas presented about justice and truth.
In the first flashback of the woodcutter, we are given the beautiful sequence of the forest as he remembers walking through the forest on a routine wood-cutting day. From far away behind bushes, looking up into the sunlight, the woodcutter’s point of view, and moving through the thick forest floor, we get to see the grand scale of the forest. Humans can get lost in this density; they are so small and irrelevant in the forest. Kurosawa provides an analogy with the forest. Humans get entrapped in the thicket of desire, fear, consequence, retaliation, greed, mistrust, and dishonesty. And after viewing the same rape and death occur through four completely different and contradictory recollections, we truly get lost as well.
Another notable aspect of Kurosawa’s usage of film is how he captures the human face. This is so powerful because when the characters are telling what they state as ‘true’, we gullibly believe them. All characters are so emotional and ‘honest’. For example, when we view the woodcutter’s face and how disturbed he is, we ought to feel compassion for him and take his ‘honorable’ word. And the crying raped woman. She is quite deceiving as well. But getting to the point, Kurosawa captures these characters’ faces and deliberately deceives us. It is pessimistic, and further asks us, “Who can we believe? How can we judge what is true anymore?” When we figure out that the woodcutter himself is a thief, it is then that we get frustrated and become skeptical of humans and their telling the truth. What’s even worse is that he lies twice, both to the commoner and to us, the viewers. First, he lies about the dead body: “So you lied about the dead body,” (104:30) remarks the commoner. The wood cutter replies that he was protecting himself and that he was scared. The second time was when he lies about the ‘expensive-looking’ dagger, dropped by the raped woman. Ah, so we see how truth and justice are corrupted by self-interest and ego. And interestingly, when the characters provide testimonials to the high police commissioner (who we never see), they also are speaking to us. As they either look at the camera or close to the camera, we become the judge and we become frustrated with the inconsistencies.
Ironically, the actual reality of the crime is not important, which we are unsuccessfully searching for while viewing the film. In fact, Kurosawa does not even bother to provide a resolution to it. Rather, he raises a very philosophical argument about truth and justice. Throughout the movie, Kurosawa provides a plethora of his views on truth and justice. One example is with the saddened priest. He says, “If men don’t trust each other, this earth might as well be hell” (120:09). Another example is when the cynical commoner expresses: “It’s human to lie. Most of the time, we can’t even be honest with ourselves” (39:15), “Maybe goodness is just make-belief. Man just wants to forget the bad stuff and believe in the made up bad stuff” (51:28), “Dogs are better off in this world. Everyone is selfish and dishonest” (122). I believe that this commoner character symbolizes Kurosawa himself and his arguments. Through this character, he brings up a striking point: ‘If everyone else is dishonest and commits crimes, why can’t I?’ And indeed, when the commoner is confronted after trying to steal the kimono, the woodcutter is lost for words to stop him, for he himself has been dishonest and stole.
With such mistrust and acts of greed, what is there to look forward to? If we can’t trust each other or act with honesty to one another, what is left of the world (Answer: hell)? And does everyone act in self-interest and hypocrisy? Even me, even you, everyone needs to ask themselves these questions, Kurosawa would argue. Even the woodcutter, who seems honest and respect worthy, has been lying the whole time. Fortunately, the ending sequence provides us with hope. As the woodcutter asks for the abandoned baby from the priest, the priest hesitates. Is the woodcutter, who has lied and stolen, trustworthy? Yet, after hearing about the woodcutter and his having six children (one more won’t be too difficult), he allows himself to trust the woodcutter. And right before the woodcutter acts with compassion, the heavy rain cedes and the wind cools down. The priest feels hopeful through the acts of compassion and trusting others; humankind has hope. And as the woodcutter walks toward the camera with the baby, we see that there is hope for the future generations as well.
Kurosawa’s “Rashomon” does not only show his gift with film, but also his philosophical genius. Made right after World War II, it is a powerful reflection upon society and humankind.