The Poetry of Three Arrows: Akira Kurosawa's "Ran"

Akira Kurosawa's masterpiece, the crowning gem in a career dedicated to the creation of crowning gems, is his 1985 epic, Ran. It is a film whose merits are difficult to communicate with words, for these mere units of language are unable to express the overwhelming beauty of the movie's visual style--its grand sweep, its haunting performances, and its masterful choreography, which is so precise and graceful that the film's battle sequences play out like a glorious ballet. More than anything, Ran reveals a confident auteur at the peak of his abilities, helming the production he'd been building toward his whole life.

Much of Ran's storyline is lifted straight from William Shakespeare's King Lear, although many critics have been tempted to interpret the film as an allegory to Kurosawa's own life. The tale's main character, the Great Lord Hidetora Ichimonji (played by the incomparable Tatsuya Nadakai), is, like Kurosawa at the time he made the movie, a man entering his sunset years. Believing his death to be at hand, the ruler abdicates the throne and splits his kingdom into thirds, giving a portion to each of his sons. The hierarchy is thus set: the eldest son, Taro (Akira Terao), will be the new ruler of the land, while the second and third sons, Jiro (Jinpachi Nezu) and Saburo (Daisuke Ryu), are given lesser castles over which to preside.

In one of the film's most famous scenes, Hidetora demonstrates the power of unity to his offspring: taking an arrow from his pack, he breaks it across his knee. He then repeats the process using two arrows; again they snap, but it is much more difficult. Finally, with three arrows held together, the bundle cannot be broken. "Three individuals are weak and can easily snap," warns the father. "Three together, however, are strong, and can withstand any amount of pressure."

The lesson is a good one, and Ichmonji hopes that his sons will unite their provinces to form an invincible ruling class. But unfortunately, the optimistic leader has underestimated the power of jealousy--the younger brothers immediately begin to resent Taro, while Taro himself grows so paranoid that he spends all his time guarding himself and no time ruling. Soon the formerly peaceful country is plunged deep into civil war, with the siblings using their newfound power to attack each other's territories.

Ichmonji, aghast at his sons' behavior, tries to smooth things over, but is told that leadership matters are no longer his concern. Alienated from his family and having nowhere to go, Ichmonji finds himself homeless, forced to spend his days wandering the countryside. Very few images in cinematic history are as heartwrenchingly pathetic as the sight of the nearly catatonic Ichmonji shuffling aimlessly through the bloody battlefields, driven to the brink of insanity by the horror he has unwittingly unleashed upon his country.

If the film's protagonist has it tough, Kurosawa himself had an equally hard time making the movie; indeed, the name Ran translates into English as "chaos," and a more apt name for the production is difficult to imagine. The filming of Ran was interrupted numerous times by a string of catastrophes, including a multitude of financial setbacks (most notably, a reluctance of Japanese investors to put money into such an ambitious production coupled with unforeseen cost overruns and severe misbudgeting on Kurosawa's behalf). Combined, these problems made Ran--ten years in the making--the most expensive Japanese film ever produced, a title it still holds to this day.

As if these weren't complications enough, Kurosawa's beloved wife died midway through the shoot. Although grief-stricken, the director was being so pressured by the studio to complete the film that he halted production for only a single day to mourn. But despite all these obstacles--or perhaps because of them--Kurosawa pulled all the threads of Ran together into one of the loveliest cinematic tapestries ever to grace a theater screen. Ran isn't just a great film; it's a triumph of cinematic style. Every image on the screen breathes with life and color; it comes as no surprise that the movie won the 1986 Oscar for Best Costume Design (even if--incredibly!--it didn't bring home the Best Cinematography or Best Director trophies, for which it was also nominated).

But don't be fooled by the somewhat morbid description I've given; despite its frequently bleak tone, Ran is a celebration of life and beauty. Much of the plot centers around happier thoughts than those discussed above, including the joy of reconciliation, a call for group unity, and the power of forgiveness and remorse--three arrows which are strong together indeed.

Fox-Lorber offers Ran in a terrific letterboxed DVD edition, and a widescreen VHS version is also available. Look for them in the Foreign section of your favorite video store.