The Quest for Truth and the Human Spirit

I was surprised at how exciting Rashomon was with such a simple plot. Essentially it is the retelling of a terrible crime involving a rape and a murder through four different perspectives. It involved only a few settings and not very many characters, and to me reminded me quite a lot of the films that we saw earlier in the course. Many of the scenes that showed the flashbacks had little dialogue and most of the action was portrayed non-verbally. While it was obvious that the techniques were much more advanced than those of the age of the silent film, the minimalist style of Rashomon (1950) was in my opinion reminiscent of those times. To tell a simple story with a simple approach that has complex, deep, philosophical implications is pretty amazing. It may seem like a strange comparison, but it vaguely reminded me of Hitchcock’s Rear Window- only a few sets were used and yet suspense was built it perfectly and the audience’s yearning for the truth becomes greater as the story progresses.

Just like Professor Kehlens’s last post stated, these films truly to delve into the human condition without inhibitions or fear. If any of the four stories were true, the acts described in them would be horrifying and shocking. But I believe that the true offenses are found within the character’s lack of legitimacy. While I may certainly be incorrect, I have a feeling that the woodcutter’s story is the one that is closest to the truth. This prediction is only based upon a basic psychological principle that we believe that the people who have the least personal involvement in a crime are the ones that will be more objective, and therefore correct. The idea of an innocent bystander viewing the crime take place makes it more likely that he has fewer motives to lie than the others do. It would make sense that the animalistic bandit Tajamoru would lie about the story merely because of his pride. I would imagine that at the trial where he is finally captured (an ego bruise in itself) he would want others to think that he killed the man only through a fair and admirable duel. The wife might have felt the need to lie because of shame due to whatever it was that she did or said (almost all of the versions have her saying something that could be considered ignominious). The samurai might have felt reason to lie for a similar reason as the bandit. The fact that he is a samurai suggests that he would not want those to hear about his death to think that he was finally defeated by a no-good crook. Traditionally speaking, it could be possible that he believed that suicide was a more honorable death. Even though the priest believes that a dead man could not lie, I think that he might do so to protect his reputation. All of these selfish but natural, human reactions overshadow the truth.

None of these people are able accurately retell the crime because they seem to be too busy looking out for themselves. Even the woodcutter’s story had inconsistencies. I believe that he took the valuable dagger out of the body (just as the samurai speaking through the medium had said) and replaced it with a sword. He lied to the priest, the commoner, and the police by not telling the whole story in the first place so as not to get involved. How can we be sure that he would not lie again to protect himself? How can we can we make sure that ANY of these seemingly genuine, emotional versions are real?

The ending seemed a lot to me like those common of the French New Wave. Many would say that the ending in Rashomon was indeed not an ending at all. We never find out the truth, and we as human beings usually yearn to find out what happened. Kurosawa seems to be pointing out the fragility of the truth. It is subject to different perspectives and viewpoints, and even without the human tendency to make up lies, would be very difficult to find. Even if I was there at the crime, I would be telling you my version of what I saw and it would still not be reality itself. While some could feel cheated after watching the whole film and never knowing for sure how the crime really played out, I believe that it was that sort of ending that made the film so great. The movie to me seems to have importance only through the meaning the director wants to portray. The actual events are used almost as a tool to get to this meaning, and not as to an end in itself.

While the conclusion is left up to the viewers, the priest almost narrates what we are supposed to get out of this film. His expressions while hearing the other people talk and his “sermons” point at the underlying significance of the film. He describes his sorrow in seeing how terribly the human condition has evolved, he appears frustrated at the cruelty and deceitfulness of man, but at the end his faith is restored. He seems bitter and sarcastic when he asks the woodcutter if he wants to take what little the baby had left, which is a justifiable response after all of the evil that he has just seen and heard. Even the commoner left with the abandoned baby’s kimono! The priest’s reaction is the same one that the audience would have- I definitely was left with the bitter taste of mistrust. Yet the woodcutter selflessly offers to take this child since he already cares for six more and the priest apologizes. He explains that his faith in man is restored thanks to him, but this line is almost unnecessary. When the film ends by the rain dying down and the woodcutter walking away with the baby you FEEL what the priest has just said.

Kurosawa is definitely able to transmit these emotions and meanings nicely. Although the setting and the plot are not extremely elaborate, he uses dialogue well, manipulates lighting to his advantage, and utilizes some interesting camera angles (such as in the wife’s story when the camera moves 180 degrees from behind the samurai to behind his wife, when the camera points straight up at the sky so we can see the sun shielded by the clouds, when we can see the priest and the woodcutter sitting in the background and listening as the other characters provide their testimonies at the trial, or when we never see who these characters are speaking to and it seems like they are talking to us). I enjoyed this film much more than I expected and was glad that there were so many thoughtful implications behind it.