A Long Time Ago, in a Nippon Far Far Away

This floating world’s a dream; so burn in mad abandon!
. . . . from the song at the fire festival.

Everybody loves a story about a princess in distress and the dashing heroes that come to her aid, saving her from the evil-ones. Throw in a little comic relief and masterful cinematography, and you’ve pretty much got yourself a winner!

Historical Background: Akira Kurosawa, Japan’s most celebrated director of all-time, was at the height of his prowess in the late 1950’s when he made The Hidden Fortress. It came among a flurry of successes for the master director, following immediately on the hells of that brooding tragedy, Throne of Blood, and then being followed in turn by The Bad Sleep Well (1960), Yojimbo (1961), Sanjuro (1962), High and Low (1963), and Red Beard (1965), in just a seven year time span.

The Story: The story opens upon two lowly Japanese peasants, Matashichi (Kamatari Fujiwara) and Tahei (Minoru Chiaki), who are wandering across a barren landscape, in need of both food and water. Matashichi is a rather short fellow while Tahei is distinctly taller. The two are engaged in grouchy banter, complaining, for example, about each other’s body odor. The pair had traveled to the Province of Akizuki, a while back, to participate as soldiers in the Japanese clan wars, but had arrived too late for the fighting. Worse, they had been mistaken for part of the defeated army and had been forced into burial duty. Having escaped, they hope to return to their village in the adjacent province of Hayakawa, but the border between Akizuki and Hayakawa is tightly sealed and heavily guarded. They’ve decided to detour through Yamana, which abuts both Akizuki and Hayakawa and which is the home province of the victorious army, on the assumption that the border of Yamana will be less heavily guarded. Since their nerves are frayed and each is fed up with the other, they decide to part company. Each, however, is soon overtaken by units of the Yamana army, captured, and put to work searching for buried gold in the remains of the Akizuki castle. During an uprising of the captives, the pair find an opportunity to escape once again. It seems that this pair is fated to be together.

While cooking some stolen rice that evening on a campfire in the wilderness, the pair accidentally discovers the reason why one of the pieces of kindling for the fire is not burning well. A piece of gold is inserted inside its hollow center. The bumbling pair begins a frantic search for other sticks that might also have hidden pieces of gold. During their search, they spot a large man (Toshiro Mifune) watching them from a distance. They keep a cautious distance but the man later approaches them at their campsite. The man is intrigued by their plan for reaching Hayakawa indirectly by passing through Yamana. He, too, needs to get to Hayakawa and has 200 gold pieces to transport. He suggests that Matashichi and Tahei might be interested in helping with the transport for a share of the gold. The two conniving peasants, who are slaves of avarice, are more than merely interested.

The man leads Matashichi and Tahei to a hidden fortress where the gold is presumably hidden, although he takes the easy, secret passage while letting them struggle with a sharp ascent followed by an equally steep descent to reach the same point. The man introduces himself as Rokurota Makabe. One of the peasants recognizes that name as belonging to one of the greatest of the Akizuki Generals, but both peasants assume that this man is merely pulling their legs. They spot a girl at some distance, but she quickly disappears. Rokurota puts the two peasants to work digging for gold.

Rokurota goes alone to a large waterfall nearby and enters a cave behind the falls. There he encounters the girl and an older woman. The girl, we soon learn, is Princess Yukihime (Misa Uehara) and the woman is her Lady-in-Waiting (Eiko Miyoshi). Rokurota, it seems, is the trusted protector of the Princess. His job it is to help her reach Hayakawa with the 200 gold pieces, which will enable the rebuilding of the Akizuki clan. The Princess is a feisty girl of sixteen – brought up by her parents in the manner of a Japanese boy rather than as a girl. She is arrogant and contrary and something of a load to manage for the General, who must, in the end, defer to her wishes. The General’s own sister had sacrificed her life to buy time for the Princess to escape. She had disguised herself as the Princess and was duly beheaded by the enemy. The Princess, however, is more bitter than grateful for the sacrifice, demanding “What difference was there in our souls?” (A remarkably “democratic” question for a society as stratified as traditional Japan). The Princess and the gold are the last hopes for survival for her people. Since 200 gold pieces represents a lot of weight, the two peasants will need to be duped into helping out. The trick will be to play on their natural greed.

The foursome sets out with pack horses loaded with gold-filled faggots. The two peasants have no idea that they are traveling with a Princess and a General. They must travel along roads and through villages that are sometimes patrolled by soldiers from Yamana. Matachichi and Tahei are intent on betraying their companions, one way or another, at the first opportunity that presents itself, but their schemes invariably merely deepen their own jeopardy. Once they realize that they are traveling with the Princess, they are more than prepared to sell her and the General out for the 10 gold pieces that are being offered as reward. I won’t relate all of the challenges that they face, but I’ll briefly mention three interesting scenes. In a village, the Princess, who is pretending to be mute so that her imperial manner of speech will not reveal her identity, observes the life of the peasants for the first time in her privileged life. She observes an Akizuki woman, a farmer’s daughter (Toshiko Higuchi), being abused by a man who had purchased her from her father for a pittance. Incensed, she demands that Rokurota purchase the woman so that she can be given her freedom. The grateful woman, however, joins the foursome in their odyssey, despite their efforts to send her away.

In the best action sequence of the film, the travelers encounter a patrol of four soldiers, who are preparing to search through their load. Rokurota is forced into action, instantly slaying two of the four, and then pursuing the other two on horseback, catching each in turn and downing each man with one decisive blow of his sword. Unfortunately, after killing the last man, the momentum of his horse carries him into the fortification of the enemy, full of armed soldiers. Rokurota is quickly surrounded. The leader of this force, though obviously an enemy, is also an old acquaintance, Gen. Hyoe Tadokoro (Susumu Fujita). They will fight man to man. Rokurota is allowed to select a spear from any one of the soldiers. The two engage in a protracted, delicately choreographed dual, with Rokurota finally emerging victorious. He mercifully spares his opponent (much to Tadokoro’s chagrin, as defeated Japanese warriors prefer death to mercy).

Another brilliant scene involves the traveling heroes having to intermix with peasants on their way to a fire festival in order to evade detection by the enemy soldiers. Despite the protestations of Matachichi and Tahei, their sticks must be thrown into the bonfire so as to avoid making their party conspicuous. Later, the group has to dig the gold pieces out of the ashes. The fire festival is a magnificent spectacle of dancing and song. The song ultimately proves important to the plot.

I won’t give away the ending except to say that in their darkest hour, it takes the intervention of one of their enemies, changing sides in effect, to save their bacon – and their gold. Matachichi and Tahei remain both witless and greedy to the very end.

Themes: This film, which blends comedy and action, is, perhaps, less thematically rich than such Kurosawa films as Ikiru or Rashômon , to name just a couple of examples. The main theme of the film, I think, is the contrasts and similarities between the hapless greed of the two peasants and the warrior’s code of honor of Rokurota and some of the others. On the one hand, the courage of Rokurota and his utter devotion to serving his Princess is infinitely more appealing than the pettiness, stupidity, and avarice that drives Matachichi and Tahei. On the other hand, we see in the end that the difference is not absolute. The greedy peasants end up helping the cause almost unintentionally, first, by providing the plan of escape and, second, by helping to transport the gold, even if they are motivated by their greedy hopes. We also learn that the honor of a warrior and his devotion to his “leader” is not absolute when one of the enemy changes allegiances.

There are some lesser themes as well, mainly touched on in passing. There’s a kind of women’s lib thing going on with the Princess, to an extent. And there’s class issues raised, especially in the scene in which the Princess interacts with the villagers.

Production Values: There are two features of this film, in particular, that sets it apart from most of Kurosawa’s other works. One amazingly creative aspect of this story is that it is told largely from the vantage point of two of the lesser characters – Matachichi and Tahei – rather than from the point of view of the heroic figures – General Rokurota or Princess Yukihime. This may very well have been the first time that such a tactic was employed in an adventure film. That stylistic approach is also what allows the second distinctive characteristic of this film. It is even more a comedy than a period adventure piece. It is Matachichi and Tahei that provide most of the comedic element; keeping the focus on this hapless pair brings the comedy to the forefront.

At the same time, this film features many of the strengths that movie lovers have come to associate with the films of Akira Kurosawa. There’s the usual emphasis on long shots to promote a contemplative response on the part of the audience more than strong emotional involvement with individual characters. There’s the deep focus lens technique of Kurosawa that permits simultaneous or sequential action at various levels in the depth of field without shifting camera positions. There are graceful tracking shots and long takes. As with other Kurosawa films, the natural environment is omnipresent and a major element in both the story and the images. The Hidden Fortress was Kurosawa’s first venture into the widescreen format and he made use of every square inch of it. The action extends from one side of the screen to the other. Consequently, this is one film where you want very much to watch it in widescreen format. Some of the sets for this film were outstanding, including the slave pit and the hidden castle.

Toshiro Mifune is undeniably a towering screen presence. In previous reviews of Japanese films, I’ve both praised and panned Mifune’s acting. The Mifune performance in The Hidden Fortress is the Mifune that I thoroughly enjoy. His Clint Eastwood persona – strong, noble, and impervious. The Mifune that I can’t stand is the one that overacts and plays the buffoon – in, for example, The Seven Samurai and, especially Rashômon. In The Hidden Fortress, his performance is exemplary. I liked Misa Uehara as the Princess quite a bit – full of vim and vigor and sporting those intense, sparkling eyes. I would have liked to see more done with her character. Maybe some love interest. Minoru Chiaki and Kamatari Fujiwara as the two peasants were not to my liking. Their facial expressions were unappealing to me and not in a humorous way. I will say, however, that they were superb in one scene in which they are trying to pantomime for the supposedly deaf Princess their intention to take the horses for a drink of water. Otherwise, their antics were largely lost on me. Chiaki’s other credits include Rashômon, The Seven Samurai, and Throne of Blood. Fujiwara appeared in Ikiru, The Seven Samurai, The Bad Sleep Well, and Yojimbo.

Special Issues: This film sparks controversy among reviewers more than the average film for a couple of reasons. One issue is how this film stacks up against other Kurosawa films. Many reviewers relegate The Hidden Fortress to the second tier of Kurosawa films while about as many others argue that it stands among the best. The first group of reviewers use such adjectives as “lightweight.” Roger Ebert, who is in the second group, invokes the happy “m” word: “masterpiece.” The Hidden Fortress is one of the most comedic films in Kurosawa’s body of work and comedies are usually “lightweight” or, at least, lighter in weight than the average drama or adventure film. If a film must be demoted into the dreaded second-tier simply because it is lightweight, that pretty much condemns most comedies to second class status. Thematically, The Hidden Fortress clearly does not have the depth of some other Kurosawa films – even some of the other Samurai action films, such as The Seven Samurai. For me, however, that does not conclude the discussion. Weightiness is one measure of greatness and another measure, equally important in my view, is entertainment value. On the basis of entertainment value, my personal response to this film places it in about the middle of the Kurosawa films that I’ve seen: below The Seven Samurai, Ran, Ikiru, and Dersu Uzala but above such acknowledged masterpieces as Rashômon, Yojimbo, and Throne of Blood. Those are just my personal preferences.

The second set of issues has to do with the relationship of this film to George Lucas’ Star Wars trilogy (well on its way to a double-trilogy). I made a commitment to myself when I began this review to avoid any mention of either Star Wars or George Lucas until the end of the review because my feeling is that Kurosawa’s film deserves to be understood in its own right and not to be reduced in the minds of viewers and readers to being mainly the film that provided some of the inspiration for Star Wars. One part of the debate relates to the extent of the influence of The Hidden Fortress on Star Wars, especially the first film. I see no reason not to take Lucas at his word, since he’s acknowledged the influence in general and has described the nature of that influence in its particulars. Lucas states that the major influence was in featuring the point of view of two minor characters in preference to the heroic characters. The droids of Star Wars, R2-D2 and C-3PO, were clearly modeled after Matachichi and Tahei – even to the point of the height differential. The opening of Star Wars features that pair of droids walking across a barren landscape bickering and then going their separate ways. That much, all agree, was the foremost influence connecting the two films. The second most obvious similarity is the fleeing princess, which Lucas declares is more coincidence than an influence. Some reviewers find that less than credible. I think Lucas was probably simply sloppy in his description of how his concept for Star Wars developed. I imagine that he started with a rough idea of a princess being pursued by evil forces and various heroes coming to her aid. At that point, he probably recalled The Hidden Fortress because of the common element of a fleeing princess. It then occurred to him that he might adopt the point-of-view element of the Kurosawa movie for Star Wars. In any case, it makes little difference.

Then there’s the inevitable quality comparisons between The Hidden Fortress and Star Wars. What are the relative merits and importance of the two films. I’m not going to accuse reviewers who prefer the Kurosawa film of mere snobbery. I’ll acknowledge that there’s plenty to be argued in favor of The Hidden Fortress. On the other hand, I saw the original Star Wars film in New York City the first week it was out and I’ll say unequivocally that it had far more impact on me (and, I would argue, the world at large) as a viewing experience than did The Hidden Fortress. Star Wars was a film revolution that took science fiction into a whole new dimension. Although the special effects of Star Wars don’t impress as much today, those effects were amazing for the film’s time period. By contrast, the special effects in The Hidden Fortress are, at certain points, truly pitiful – even for its time. I’m thinking in particular of a scene in which the heroic group are being shot at by numerous enemy soldiers, which looks plainly ridiculous.

Many reviewers of The Hidden Fortress cite the comedic element provided by Matachichi and Tahei as the highlight of the film. They have chemistry, we are told, and are more “human” than the droids of Star Wars. Well, humor is always a matter of taste, but, for me personally, it was the heroic characters of The Hidden Fortress that I enjoyed, not the comic ones. I would have preferred a lot more of Mifune and Misa Uehara and a lot less of the peasant clowns. I found them mainly irritating and stupid, certainly not laugh-out-loud funny as some reviewers suggest. By contrast, I find the banter between R2-D2 and C-3PO far more humorous. I suppose it’s the difference between intellectual humor (the droids) and slapstick (the peasants). I’ll also flatly assert that I experience the droids as far more human than Matachichi and Tahei. The comedic peasants were devoid of both loyalty and intelligence – two of the best of human characteristics. In Star Wars, I always got a kick out of the obvious signs of emotion and even “values”, like loyalty, exhibited by R2-D2. Even the Princess in Star Wars recognized that R2-D2 was an exceptional droid. The droids were adorable little creatures while the two peasants are greedy lowlifes with no redeeming qualities.

Lastly, by way of comparisons, the characters in The Hidden Fortress are much closer to one-dimensional than those of Star Wars. Matachichi and Tahei are all greed and stupidity and never grow. Even the heroic characters of Kurosawa’s film are pretty much one dimensional – the honorable General and the feisty Princess. Luke and Han, by contrast, mix strengths and weaknesses and have real personalities. There’s nothing in The Hidden Fortress that comes close to matching the imagination and creativity of the unforgettable bar scene in Star Wars. So . . . all of you Epinion-ites who were convinced that I’m a foreign-film snob – take that!

Bottom-Line: The Hidden Fortress was one of the top grossing films ever in Japan, which is a pretty powerful statement about its entertainment value. The Criterion DVD boasts a truly superlative transfer, perhaps the best of their five Kurosawa releases to date. The widescreen, black-and-white photography is crisp and clean. For extras, Criterion landed an 8-minute interview with George Lucas in which he talks about his experience with Kurasawa films, which didn’t begin until he was already in film school. Otherwise, there’s just the theatrical trailer and an alternate sound-tract utilizing “perspect-a-sound” simulated-stereo effects. The English subtitles are “new and improved” though one wishes they hadn’t chosen such phrases as “This sucks!” which sound terribly out of place for the time and place in which the film is set. I’m giving this film four stars. The dramatic elements are better than that but, for me, the comedic aspect was less, so I’ll split the difference. The Hidden Fortress is in Japanese with English subtitles and has a running time of 139 minutes.


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You might want to check out these other excellent films from Japan:

The Ballad of Narayama
The Burmese Harp
Chushingura
Drunken Angel
The Eel
Floating Weeds
Gate of Hell
High and Low
Ikiru
Kagemusha
Kwaidan
Ran
Rashômon
Red Beard
Samurai 1: Musashi Miyamoto
Sanjuro
Sanshô, the Baliff
The Seven Samurai
Shall We Dance?
Stray Dog
The Woman in the Dunes
Yojimbo