Man Is Born Crying. When He Has Cried Enough, He Dies: Ran (1985)

To steal a phrase from the popular Lord of The Rings meme, "One does not simply adapt Shakespeare."  I mean this will all seriousness; because it is hard encapsulate the deep-seeded ideologies, multiple narratives, and poetic grandeur of the world's most well known bard.  When it fails, it seems like a skeleton of a narrative that offers little more to the viewers than a overdone storyline that anybody could have offered.  However, when one does adaptations of Shakespeare correctly the result is epic filmmaking that captures the human condition on film and inevitably rips violently at the heart strings of its viewers.  Akira Kurosawa's Ran, an adaptation of Shakespeare's King Lear is one such example.  In the matter of two and a half hours, Kurosawa manages to make the screen explode with the ebb and flow of human suffering from the eyes of Eastern ideology.  The actors deliver their various performances with such conviction and subtly that it gives the best of Shakespearean troupes a run for their money.   The excellent narrative is only helped by Kurosawa's unflinching cinematic grandeur, which continually encompasses both the large ideas of the world and the tiniest of moments in a being's existence.  I often have a battle in my mind between Ozu and Kurosawa for best Japanese director, but it is films like this one that remind me that the late director of Seven Samurai may just edge out his fellow countryman. 

As an adaptation of King Lear, one can imagine the levels of deceit and familial disappointment that exist within Ran and Kurosawa certainly shows these notions.  The film focuses on the stepping down from power of a once great ruler named Hidetora Ichimonji (Tatsuya Nakadi) who realizes that his time in charge is over.  As such, he places power in the hands of his eldest son Taro (Akira Terao) who accepts his responsibility with nervous gratitude.  His younger sons react in opposing manners; Jiro (Jinpachi Nezu) gladly follows the orders of his father as middle keeper of the lineage, while the youngest son Saburo (Daisuke Ryo) mocks the decision and steps away from his ties to the family altogether.  Befuddled, Hidetora attempts to continue on his way without his youngest son.  Foolishly, Hidetora assumes that his transfer of power will still allow him all the rights of ruler without the responsibilities.  However, Taro's wife Kaede (Mieko Harada) pushes her husband to demand his place a ruler, ultimately, causing Taro to confront his father in a rather violent manner.  What results are various levels of deceit amongst the family, the employees of the clan and the villagers surrounding the castle.  In violent, yet poetic, fashion the rest of the film builds up to a war between the brothers all awaiting the return of their father who goes blind and crazy, as a result of his decision.  Ironically, although very Shakespearean, the only voice of reason throughout the film appears to be the fool Kyoami (Pita) who through song and rhymes explains the problems of human existence.  Ultimately, all the characters die either through violent ends or heartbreak, but viewers should not be surprised, because after all King Lear is a tragedy.  There is certainly more to the plot I just explained, but to go into any greater detail would be to ruin its watchability, it is far more experiential than a simple paragraph could ever hope to show.

The important question to ask when discussing Ran is how precisely is it an acceptable adaptation of a Shakespeare play.  The first element that makes the film a great adaptation is its loyalty to the original text.  While the names of the characters and their exact words have changed from the original source material, they, nonetheless, reflect King Lear rather clearly and it does not take a Shakespeare scholar to realize this.  Secondly, performance is key to making Shakespeare adaptations acceptable.  Without a deep understanding of the words and ideas being expounded the film will fall flat, however, as I noted earlier, Ran is full of brilliant performances and even knowing that I do not understand a bit of Japanese, I still managed to gather the deep moving nature of each word spoken by the characters in the film, not once was a line delivered dully.  The final factor, and perhaps most difficult to manage is to ensure that any adaptation of a Shakespeare work be unique and fresh.  Ran does this, perhaps more successfully than any other filmic adaptation I have seen to date, including Kurosawa's own adaptation of The Bad Sleep Well, although from a formalist standpoint it is a far superior film.  Perhaps Ran is so unique given that it is Japanese, yet Kurosawa's use of The Buddha, samurai code and the world of feudal Japan to rethink a story of familial deceit seem so original that I kept having to remind myself that he was borrowing heavily from Shakespeare.  With that being said, I guess what ultimately makes a Shakespeare adaptation work is the ability of a director to blatantly steal the bard's work, yet, doing such a good job of thievery that it seems like their own.  While imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, at times it can match, or, dare I say, outdo the original.

Some time ago, Criterion possessed the rights to Ran, but given their recently ended relationship with Studio Canal it appears as though it will never come back.  However, if you find yourself with the finances, picking up a copy of the out of print DVD will certainly prove rewarding.

He Who Values His Life Dies A Dog's Death: 13 Assassins (2010)

The wicked mind of Takashi Miike has brought movie lovers a wide array of twisted films, most notably his 1999 film Audition, which is a personal favorite of mine.  Upon hearing that he had signed on to direct a remake of a sixties samurai film was a cause for celebration and was a film I greatly anticipated viewing.  I had, unlike many people in the United States, the pleasure of viewing the grand piece of cinema on 35 mm, which only helped to make the already brilliant film that much more amazing.  It is a film, in which those familiar with the expansive oeuvre of Miike, will instantly realize the directors maturity.  While his earlier films such as Audition and Ichi the Killer are brilliant, it is obvious that the, then young, director relied heavily on violent images for shock and awe.  13 Assassins certainly has its fair share of grotesque and hard to view imagery, however, Miike has clearly learned to moderate the imagery and help it to advance the narrative, as well as cause audiences severe discomfort.  With his newest work, Miike is beginning to mirror his contemporary Michael Haneke.  As a samurai film, 13 Assassins is true to the tradition, and has all the poetics, action and bad ass characters one would come to expect from the genre.  It is expertly shot, mixing stagnant symmetrical camera work, with experimental handheld action angles to create a viewing experience that is truly unique and incredibly engaging.  To put it bluntly, several Hollywood directors could use a lesson on making action films via Miike.

13 Assassins, as the title suggests, follows a group of samurai who have been assigned the task of assassinating a corrupt political leader named Lord Naritsugu (Goro Inagaki) who has become considerably infamous for his psychotic fascination with torturing and often killing the people under his jurisdiction.  Given his unquestioned place of power, those working below him struggle to find a way to undermine him one individual Sir Doi (Mikijiro Hiro), particularly loathes Naritsugu for his aggressive and evil actions.  This rage leads him to hire an aging samurai named Shinzaemon (Koji Yakusho) to take upon the task of killing him.  Realizing it is likely his only chance to actually engage in the samurai code, Shinzaemon stoically accepts the job and proceeds to gather a group of samurai's to join in the assassination.  In traditional samurai film fashion, the group consists of a varied group of samurais including among others a silent lone wolf, two humor inclined bomb experts, an aging spear master, a rebellious youth who is unsure about the ethics of samurai ways.  At one point in their travels, the group even recruit the help of a boar hunter, who despite being a samurai proves to be very adept at beating the crap out of people with sacks of rocks.  After some effort and careful planning the group of thirteen warriors, take command of a village and use it as a mousetrap for the soon to arrive Lord Naritsugu.  Even after realizing the dangers of entering the town, Lord Naritsugu faces the attack head on seeing it as more a game of chess in which he can throw hundreds of soldiers at with little concern for the value of life.  Over an epic battle scene, the group of samurai slowly dwindles leaving only Shinzaemon and the rebellious youth to fight Naritsugu.  Realizing it is Shinzaemon's battle the youth steps aside and watches as the aged samurai makes rather quick work of the pretentious Naritsugu.  Upon being stabbed Naritsugu whines in distress as he had up until that point only dealt pain.  Indifferent to his pain Shinzaemon kills Nartisugu, but passes out from his own wound, only to die momentarily.   The people left standing are the rebelious youth, and by some miracle the hunter.  The two go their separate ways, as the film closes with a note from Miike telling viewers that the system allowing such rulers to go into power would be abolished only decades later, suggesting the equal, if not greater power of politics to prevent corruption of such dire forms to ever take power again within Japan.

Keeping such a closing commentary in mind, it is clear that Miike's film is considerably political.  It adheres to the old notion that "absolute power corrupts absolutely," but adds the twist of the truly dangerous problems of such possessors of power being by all definitions insane.  The Lord Naritsugu, depicted within 13 Assasins is a historical character, although it is obvious that Miike took poetic license when depicting how truly cruel the person acted.  However, it is not unfair to compare the actions of such a person with the atrocities that were occurring in 2010 and are in some tragic cases still occurring within much of the world.  One only needs to look up Sudan in the news, or read about the problems happening in The Congo, barring the ridiculous outpouring of "support" from Invisible Children, to see that such acts of violence do occur.  We as a privileged Western power have the fortunate ability to completely ignore such happenings, yet their existence is nonetheless there.  A film like 13 Assassins reminds viewers of such facts and that like the seppuku committed in the films opening that it is only until someone of high power gets hurt or dies that we remotely begin to care.  Miike's film also reminds people that action is necessary, and that sometimes the action requires a small amount of well-reasoned actors, as opposed to a large number of people half-attempting to solve the problem, again an organization like Invisible Children comes to mind.  In essence, Miike's film demands action against atrocity, however, he suggests that the action enacted should consider the importance of quality over quantity.

Miike's film is a thing of violent beauty and a must see, thankfully it is available on Watch Instantly, at the moment, and is well worth spending over two hours to watch.