It was a monster from the beginning. Akira Kurosawa had gone back to Toho, the MGM of Japan, and he planned to make his first real historical film, or jidaigeki. He also wanted to put to shame the other jidaigeki that had been crowding Japanese cinema screens. He did just that making an all inclusive epic set in the 16th century. It follows the exploits of three groups of people. There are the farmers, who are lower class peasants with a somewhat honest profession. Then there are the bandits, the dishonest opportunists who prey off of the ill equipped peasants of the world. Then there are the samurai, the defenders of the earth who are men of respect and integrity.
All of these groups though become interchangeable through Kurosawa. Toshiro Mifune’s samurai Kikuchiyo is the best case. His parents were farmers, which means he could have easily picked up their trade. Yet they died at the hands of bandits. He wandered around and probably would have become a bandit, had they not murdered his family. So he ends up a samurai, the most undisciplined one, but the most eager, exciting, and admirable. He has no official rank and his inclusion in the group is based more on his daring and determination as he follows the other six samurai like a stray dog.
He has nothing in common with Takashi Shimura’s head samurai Kambei Shimada. He is portrayed as next to Jesus in this film. He never makes a wrong decision, and it is no surprise that he is the first samurai approached by the farmers. Had he not been picked first the rest of the group may not have been formed. It is through his respect and dignity that he manages to round up another six master less samurai or ronin. Saint he may be, he is still a warrior, which means he does still kill. It is after his selfless act of heroism, removing his sacred top knot and disguising himself as a priest in order to rescue a young child taken hostage by a thief, that a few samurai wish to be his disciples. He is the first piece to fall into place and throughout the film he always knows the right move.
The rest of the samurai have their own personalities, some of which are highlighted better than others. Gorobei Katayama, a clever and good natured whose specialty is archery; Heihachi Hayashida, a good-humored samurai who makes up for his mediocre swordsmanship by cheering up the group; Shichiroji, an old friend of Kambei's; and Kyuzo, a master swordsman who initially refuses to join the group but relents. Kyuzo is something of an idol for Kikuchiyo whose lack of swordsmanship he tries to make up for in bravery and fearlessness.
The basic plot is that a village of farmers are attacked every year and they have had enough. They hire seven samurai to help fight the bandits and protect them. Although greatly outnumbered, and promised nothing but three squares and the fun of fighting, the samurai accept. It is this that helps support claims that this is pro socialist. No one is motivated by money, other than the seemingly evil bandits, or capitalists. There is also the strength in numbers so common in communism. The farmers can’t defend themselves alone. It takes the samurai to get them to work together, and proof that the individual is virtually powerless. Throughout the film Kambei has to reiterate how important teamwork is to everyone. He is willing to sacrifice a few of the outlying houses in order to keep the village as a whole secure. He goes as far as to berate Kikuchiyo for leaving his post in order to steal one of the bandits three rifles. Despite how heroic the move might seem, Kambei realizes that it was reckless and could have cost them plenty.
This is not the same collectivism of say the Soviet cinema as evidenced by the samurai being given distinct personalities. They all have their own quirks and mannerisms. There are also a few farmers shown in detail. There is also the breakdown of the dream at the end when the farmers turn their back on the samurai, forgetting what they have done in order to concentrate on planting rice. This may be used as evidence that eventually communism won’t work. Either way, Kurosawa might not have had any political intentions in mind, but it was hard to make any film in the 50s without someone projecting political ideology on it. Kurosawa, like Renoir before him was a humanist director. People are neither good nor bad, and to quote Renoir’s Rules of the Game “Everyone has their reasons”. Therefore it seems uncharacteristic how the bandits just appear to be pure evil in this sense.
There is a scene where Kikuchiyo returns with some samurai armor that we are only left to believe he got by killing a traveling samurai. As he is berated, he states that the villagers needed the armor and that Kambei himself said he needed to get armor. In an extended monologue Kikuchiyo goes on to rip apart the farmers for hoarding rice, food, and even sake but he says that they can’t be blamed after what they’ve been through. Despite treating the samurai as their saviors they’re still holding out on them. We see later on that when the farmers offer sake on the evening before the final showdown that perhaps this final wall is being broken. After the samurai decide to start sharing their rice with some of the children who are forced to eat the much less appetizing millet, the class divisions in this society begin to break down. It’s as if saying we can only be equal when we share everything equally.
The relationship between Katsuhiro and Shino is perhaps the most interesting in the film. Shino’s father decides that his daughter is far too pretty and will likely be ravaged by the samurai when they arrive. Like many of the farmers they feel they need the samurai but are terrified of them and wonder if they’ll be any better than the bandits. He cuts her beautiful long hair and has her dress as a boy. When he sees her in the woods picking flowers he asks her gender, when she replies she’s a boy he proceeds to berate her thinking she should be training for the upcoming fight. It doesn’t take long for him to realize the truth and it involves a great deal of awkwardness. This scene along with the one where her hair is cut are classic examples of the exaggerated acting style present throughout the film, and a lot of Japanese cinema of that era, but more on that later. Their love seems almost tragic, forged in the heat of conflict at the end of the film she simply turns her back on him, which is perhaps one of the things that leads Kambei to declare, “Again we have lost”.
Not a moment of the film drags, even in the extended version. Kurosawa makes certain of this, keeping his shots short and to the point. Lots of senseless dialogue is trimmed out, and a great deal is implied rather than shown. The battle scenes are all shown in great detail. They are fast and moving, in more ways than one. Before you know it this film will be over, so don’t worry for boredom. Some people do still complain though, oddly enough preferring the John Sturges remake The Magnificent Seven (1960). Hard to deny the running time, and so much of the film is set up in anticipation of the final showdown. If these character building scenes bore you, just try to stay awake until the battle starts off. Rather than have a symphony of destruction ala Sam Peckinpah, Kurosawa decides instead to show his action in bursts. There are waves of attack and if you’re attentive you know that the magic number is 30 bandits. A few are killed each attack, the second wave being the most costly for the village.
Over the years Seven Samurai has gradually been accepted as Kurosawa’s best film. Rashomon may have been the one to break the gate open, Seven Samurai seems to be the most consistently praised. Seeing how it’s been over a decade since the monumental restoration a whole new generation has grown up watching this film without realizing there was ever a much worse alternative. Not surprising there was some preference for the Sturges’ remake for years considering the only available version was butchered.
I would hesitate to call it a perfect film though. The acting styles take a lot of getting used to. The general performance style in most Japanese films, particularly the jidaigeki was anything but naturalistic. Everyone seems to be shouting or shrieking, people run fast and fall down, sentences are blurted out rather than spoken with any eloquence and this can all seem very foreign indeed. Mifune was guilty of this exaggerated style perhaps more so than anyone else in the script but somehow hit fits his character who although brave is extremely reckless. It’s fitting that his one last act of heroism is to charge at the one remaining bandit whose taken refuge amongst the village women. He takes a bullet but charges with his sword perhaps showing that the time of the rifle was inevitable, but the sword was still mightier in this age.
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