Tatsuya Nakadai, Tsutomu
Yamazaki, Kenichi Hagiwara, Kota Yui
Genre:
War/Drama
Director:
Akira Kurosawa
Screenplay:
Masato Ide & Akira Kurosawa
Cinematography:
Shoji Ueda, Masaharu Ueda,
& Takao Saito
Composer:
Shinichiro Ikebe
Runtime:
179 minutes
"Act naturally… Like him" - Nobukado Takeda
The opening shot lasts for six minutes and has so little movement it can be
hard to discern which character is talking. Almost as if we were watching
a play from an elevated seat, sitting center stage in front of us is the
powerful warlord Shingen Takeda (Tatsuya Nakadai). His right hand man, brother
Nobukado Takeda (Tsutomu Yamazaki), is right where you'd expect him to be,
while an unnamed thief is foregrounded because he doesn't belong (and perhaps
because the same actor also plays Shingen). They are deciding whether the
thief can be used as Shingen's kagemusha (shadow warrior, basically the warlord's
double). This clever distance and framing makes it obvious that physically
each could pass for one another.
One of the films key points is that in the rigidly structured and ordered society
of 16th Century Japan, almost everyone was interchangeable. They didn't do
their job; they were their job. The fact that most of them have the same
haircuts and uniforms makes it hard for us to identify these people, but
it's more that all signs of personality are subjugated. If the film seems
slow and somewhat dull it's because this society is stolid, and Kurosawa
isn't afraid to bring that out even at the expense of the enjoyment of certain
members of the audience. The obvious reading is that Kagemusha is a puppet,
but in many ways almost everyone but the generals are too. Even the supposedly
great ruler Shingen does not appear to have any real character, just a few
idiosyncrasies and ways of posing and posturing. Obviously there are huge
differences between the ruler and the peasants, but ultimately whether the
thief can succeed in doubling for Shingen comes down to his willingness to
give up all aspects of self in favor of constant imitation.
The thief is the only peasant with a role worth talking about, and aside from
the generals, until he "becomes" Shingen at the end of the opening
scene, the only one with strong will and character. He has the guts to laugh
long and loud at Shingen when the ruler questions how such a wicked scoundrel
could be his double. In a great gutsy reply, the thief tells Shingen, "I
only stole a few coins. A petty thief. But you've killed hundreds and robbed
whole domains. Who is wicked?" While it's true the thief has nothing
to lose because they were going to kill him anyway, you get the sense that
he's a ballsy rebel that isn't afraid to die, and perhaps give the circumstances
would rather. Shockingly Takeda likes him and even agrees with him. "I
am wicked, as you believe. I am a scoundrel. I banished my father and I killed
my own son. I will do anything to rule this country. War is everywhere. Unless
someone unifies the nation and reigns over us we will see more rivers of
blood and more mountains of the dead." The honesty of both men earns
each other's respect and the scene ends with the thief bowing to show his
acceptance of the new purpose of his life, the first and only purpose of
his existence.
Predictably, Shingen (1521-1573) soon dies after a sniper wound (this is disputed
with some historians attributing it to illness, perhaps tuberculosis). Before
he dies, he tells the most trusted members of the clan to keep his death
a secret for at least three years, guard the domain, and never move from
it to attack.
Kagemusha can "lead" the troops because the generals make all the
decisions. They argue over strategy and order the troops around during battle.
They are the ones with the real wisdom and power. General Yamagata can even
get away with telling Shingen he's a mountain monkey that behaves like a
five-year-old child and is so narrowminded he should not dream of rulership.
One of the most interesting scenes is an enemy sneak attack where many people
around "Shingen" are killed. Shingen's job is to "be the mountain,"
so he must stay seated while his protectors use their body to shield him
from danger. I feel it's the best scene toward making you question the value
of life in this society because two young men that were previously of a higher
class die bravely to save his life. Is one life really worth more, and if
so whose? Is Shingen really worth more than Kagemusha or is a leader in these
times worth no more and no less than his perceived value? Is this life just
about nothing more than who your parents are and being in the right place
at the right time?
While the scenes where Kagemusha gains acceptance as Shingen from Shingen's
various unknowing relatives, partners, and subjects come as no surprise,
they are still interesting and cleverly orchestrated. Many mistakes are made
by Kagemusha in his attempt to be Shingen all day and all of the night, but
luckily they are only witnessed by the few people that know he's an imposter.
His problem is not lack of concentration; it's lack of desire. This is a
man with a great deal of personal pride that, in spite of how others view
some things he's done, believes he was honest and honorable. He quickly longs
to return to his previous existence not because it was great, but simply
because it was him. In a pathetic attempt to retain the self, he tries to
steal some of the warlord's stuff and run away, but the shock and disgrace
of discovering the lord's corpse (they hadn't told him Shingen died yet)
in the large jar he was stealing from gets him caught. Unfortunately, this
is one of the scenes that's taken down by Nakadai's overacting.
If you are looking for battle action, this film is not the way to go. Kurosawa's
warrior films have always been about the characters and their strategy rather
than the action, but I believe this film shows a minimal amount of fighting
even by his standards. Kagemusha is about the "leader" in the battles,
and his job is simply to sit calmly, motionless. While in essence he does
nothing, the presence of their rock gives his warriors a sense of bravery,
confidence, and pride they wouldn't have otherwise. On the other hand, Shingen
never losing a battle on his home turf psyches the opposition out and gives
the Takeda clan a kind of home field advantage.
Kurosawa partly made Kagemusha as a dry run for his next film Ran, a resetting
of Shakespeare's King Lear. Looking at the two films from today's standpoint,
it's almost amazing that Kagemusha was financed with American money and Ran
with French. I say this because Ran had the battle sequences expected by
Americans while Kagemusha had the exploration of humans and their actions
expected by the French. Kurosawa only made 7 seven films in his last 33 years,
largely because he had a hard time getting funding. At that point the Japanese
studios were the ones that wanted a product they could sell regardless of
the quality, and Kurosawa's production company started with three other top
Japanese directors crashed and burned immediately with the flop of his Dodesukaden
(1970). Kagemusha was backed by admirers George Lucas, whose career making
Star Wars was inspired by Kurosawa's 1958 film Kakushi toride no san akunin
(The Hidden Fortress) and Francis Ford Coppola, before to me his name became
a symbol of nepotism and cinematic mediocrity (Jeepers Creepers this guy
that once backed Koyaanisqatsi now backs
films like Goosed). With it's $6 million budget, it was the most expensive
Japanese film to date. It was not the first Kurosawa film to be funded with
foreign money, as Russia financed much of his 1974 film Derzu Usala, but
Kagemusha was the first Japanese movie where a foreign country not only put
their money into it but also handled worldwide distribution.
Despite its lack of violence, the scenes involving the army are the standouts.
Kagemusha is a throwback to the old days, employing thousands of extras with
elaborate colorful battle outfits. That could be meaningless, but the cinematography
and choreography are exquisite and exceptional. Looking at this film, one
certainly would not think that Kurosawa was a director associated with black
and white films (his previous two were also color). The soldiers are never
shot in what appears to be broad daylight. Usually we see them at sunrise
or sunset when the outdoors has it's own very distinct look that alters the
effect of the soldier's costumes. There's a certain uniquely colorful beauty
to every scene of troop movement, at least until you reflect on the pointlessness
of a land where most everyone's existence is defined by endless battling
over territory. It's a very expansive film that's breadth cannot be fully
enjoyed in the pan and scan video that's unfortunately the only way we can
see it on at the moment.
One great shot is a low angle of the orange sky at sunset. The soldiers sitting
on the ground near the camera are barely visible, in part because it's very
misty, with the main focus being on the soldiers marching across a wall behind
them. As the shot is set up so the wall seems to block all the other light,
the marching soldiers appear more as solids blocking the orange rays.
Another great moment is the first time Kagemusha leads the troops. The spies
from the other clans feel the only logical explanation for the Takeda clans
recent action is that Shingen has indeed been killed, so we get Kagemusha
convincing the troops and the spies that he's Shingen from the overhead spies
eye view (they are looking down from a small mountain). The screen is basically
split into two diagonals with hundreds of troops decked out in their armor
raising their lances and shouting in the bottom left while "Shingen,"
almost acting as a composer, and his generals ride by the front line in the
top right. Where the scene gets cool though is when the split changes to
horizontal and Kagemusha and co. riding by remains in focus even though there's
a blur of troops in between them and the camera.
Even though Kagemusha handles himself well, he still has bouts with self-doubt.
This is shown by a nightmare on an incredibly colorful set that looks as
if Kagemusha is walking on the surface of a planet with a colored cloudy
atmosphere. Well, he's not really walking. He's running away from Shingen,
who hatches from his jar in full battle gear and starts stalking after Kagemusha,
but then turns his back on him and walks away. What's great about the scene
is Kagemusha doesn't know if he should keep running or chase after the lord,
so he just winds up wandering around bewildered.
The production values are certainly fantastic. The one thing I generally didn't
like was Kurosawa's heavy overuse of mist, steam, and dust. It gives the
film a more artistic feel, but at the same time takes away some of the realism
and in my opinion what makes most of the shots so beautiful. This is a small
issue, but nonetheless I find natural scenes like the one where the troops
are marching through the wind toward the ocean with the tide coming in far
more impressive than most of his steamy stuff.
Shinichiro Ikebe's soundtrack is so effective because it's only used at appropriate
times. It gives a certain feel of longing and weariness to the travel scenes.
This is not at all a soaring score. The film has been criticized for not
having "epic moments," but that's one of its strengths. Kurosawa
realizes the clan period was an unproductive rather than glorious part of
Japan's history, and while this isn't really the focus of his film, he still
has his ways of showing the pointlessness of it all. The film would be more
pleasant with one of those overrated happy shiny triumphant John Williams
scores, but why should war be pleasant? The glory is reserved for Kagemusha's
achievements in making people believe he's Shingen or at least momentarily
forget he isn't. While in and of itself deception is not a good thing, it
is what keeps the clan going and the troops motivated.
Visuals aside, the film's greatest pleasure lies in Kagemusha's relationship
with his young grandson Takemaru (Kota Yui). This is an important relationship
because, we assume seeing that his son Katsuyori Takeda (Kenichi Hagiwara)
was too aggressive to lead the clan, Shingen choose to bypass him and make
Takemaru his heir. The bond they form is moving because it's immediately
established that Takemaru had a less than spectacular relationship with Shingen,
whom he was afraid of. More importantly, even though Takemaru isn't in the
know, it is through this relationship that some of Kagemusha's own character
can live on. These scenes show that people of different class could actually
have a great relationship, but only as long as the illusion that they were
the same lasted.
The movies dialogue is brief and to the point. Some statements are very profound
like when Nobukado tells Kagemusha what it was like for him to impersonate
Shingen. "I know it is difficult. I was for a long time the lord's double.
It was torture. It is not easy to suppress yourself to become another. Often
I wanted to be myself and free. But now I think this was selfish of me. The
shadow of a man can never desert that man. I was my brother's shadow. Now
that I have lost him it is as though I am nothing." Most of the film
though is about not expressing any such feeling, just about doing your tasks
the way they must be done.
Kurosawa certainly sees irony and comedy in the ways of this society. One particularly
humorous scene has two servants sweeping dirt aside so Shingen can ride in
on his horse. The servants think they are finished, but one of them didn't
move the dirt in a nice enough pattern so their overseer orders the other
guy back, takes the broom from the screw up, does it "properly,"
and throws the broom into the bungler's chest.
Nakadai's performance is mainly good, but could have used more subtlety. My
main problem with his performance is I don't believe his eyes wouldn't have
betrayed him. I realize Kurosawa was trying to show Kagemusha's difficulty
and self doubt, and that no one dare challenge the warlord. However, I don't
buy that only the audience observes Kagemusha looking so lost and out of
place. He's too central a figure for there to be only one time when a few
protectors notice give each other a weird what's going on with him kinda
look. Kurosawa does portray the people as pretty dump and unperceptive. For
instance, at one point Kagemusha falls off the horse "only Shingen can
ride," so Nobukado complains, "How stupid. He could deceive men,
but not the horse."
There are scenes where Nakadai's performance is incredibly convincing though.
For instance, Shingen's burial at sea where he discovers his passion for
the lord and realizes it's his duty to help him the only way he can, which
is to win Nobukado's trust back immediately and proceed to lose himself.
Overall though, I thought he was much more impressive, commanding and under
control, in Masaki Kobayashi's superb anti-Samurai film Seppuku (Harakiri).
Kenichi Hagiwara does a strong job, making Katsuyori an intense, aggressive,
attention-commanding figure. Kota Yui is also impressive as Takemaru, a role
that would be so cliché in a Hollywood film, because he brings spirit
to his role as the perceptive and inquisitive grandson rather than just cuteness.
*Spoilers*
Kagemusha is a tragic character because no matter what he does he can't win.
All the credit for anything he does right goes to Shingen, even succeeding
in deceiving everyone for three years, while all the blame for anything he
does wrong goes to him. No one that knows he's not the lord will ever respect
him, and sooner or later everyone will know. Those that were deceived will
blame him even though it wasn't his idea and he wasn't calling the shots.
Those that know from the beginning are hypocritical because they need him
to be the ruler, but resent him for any decision he makes even though they
are wise and he only makes them on the rare occasion he has to make a call
to protect his ability to deceive.
Perhaps the biggest point the film makes is that once you've given yourself
up, you can never regain yourself. Kagemusha's existence during Katsuyori's
reign is truly pathetic. He takes on the look of a beggar, seemingly doing
nothing but crawling around to follow the action from as close as he can
without being detected. He cares so much for the people of the Takeda clan
and wants to continue to help them, but now he's a powerless reject. He can
only look on as Katsuyori destroys the clan.
The final segment depicts one of those important battles that my history classes
skipped over, the Battle of Nagashino on May 21, 1575. It's important because
it's the first military battle where firearms where used systematically on
a large scale, predating any such battle in Europe by more half a century.
The Takeda clan was famous for their strong cavalry, but the Nobunaga clan
had 3000 guns. It's was a suicide mission with Katsuyori's imprudence singlehandedly
bringing the clan down. This isn't covered in the movie, but during Shingen's
day there were many times when the troops lined up but one side wound up
retreating after little to no fighting. Thus, Katsuyori could easily have
pulled out after his first round of lancers were gunned down.
The post battle shots are some of the best ever filmed. They alternate between
wider shots that emphasize the scope of the carnage and closer shots that
focus on the wounded. It's impressive just seeing that many people and beasts
lying on the ground at the same time. The best shots are actually of horses
trying to get back to their feet. I also like how the score is pretty much
the same as one we heard earlier when the troops were at full strength preparing
for battle, except it's been altered so the horn has a sadder death ridden
Taps kind of feel.
For the sake of creating one of the most memorable film endings, Kurosawa finishes
this long scene of devastation by having Kagemusha run out from behind the
bushes into the battlefield. At first we think he's going to do something
great because, well, it's a movie and the hero usually steps up at the end
so everyone goes home happy. This is a man that has been gutted though. His
heart and soul have been ripped out of him now that the remaining thing he
cared about has been cut down for no good reason. He had been below these
men, above them, and below them again. Finally, he joins by picking up a
lance and running toward the enemy in a one-man attack. Wounded by enemy
gunfire, he stumbles toward the ocean where he collapses and dies as the
symbol of Shingen rises from the depths of the sea. We think he's finally
made peace with Shingen through a symbolic acceptance that's about to come,
but a magical current takes his body right on past so Shingen remains just
out of reach. Perhaps though he's done something more important, finally
broke free of Shingen's shadow and made peace with the soldiers he duped
as well as himself.
