Throne of Blood (1957)

directed by Akira Kurosawa

Japan

108 minutes

4.5 stars out of 5

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I feel like I'm not qualified to give my opinion on this film, being relatively un-versed in Akira Kurosawa. I've seen probably his most famous works and I would count him as one of my favorite directors, but I cannot speak about his technique at length in the same way that someone who has studied him (and cinema in general) could. But I am still going to review it because I do not know when to be quiet.

Another aspect of this film that renders me unable to talk about it intelligently is its basis in a minor work by the obscure Muromachi-era poet and playwright, William Shakespeare. I'm not very familiar with his works either, and in fact I only read Macbeth last month in preparation for watching Throne of Blood. However, I don't feel like reading it was necessary, because I found that, while watching the film, trying to compare it to the source material really just kind of gave me a headache. I could see where the overarching plot was taken from the play, but all in all I think it's best to examine this movie on the basis of the themes it presents - though they are shared with Macbeth - rather than look at it as a 1:1 adaptation of its source material.

The film begins during a war, but we never really see the war itself. Frantic, breathless reporters ride back to Kumonosu-Jô, Spider's Web Castle, telling of the downfall of one garrison after another, until the situation is abated somewhat by the warriors - and companions - Washizu and Miki. These are our main characters, with Washizu standing in for Macbeth and Miki as Banquo. Roughly - again, I don't think it's too good of an idea to think too hard about Macbeth while we're watching this. But what we learn is that both, though possibly Washizu more so, are brilliant military commanders and upon their return to the castle both are to be granted an increase in rank. But before this happens, they make their way through the mist-shrouded, ominous Spider's Web Forest, becoming lost on the way and stumbling upon a spirit spinning silk in a lean-to in the middle of the woods. I watch a lot - a lot - of horror movies, and I have largely lost the ability to be scared by film. But I felt dread in my gut during the scene where Washizu and Miki, unsure if they can believe their eyes, watch this specter slowly spinning while reciting a song about the impermanence of man and his folly. The quality of the photography renders the spirit as something that feels wholly unearthly, and the trick of dubbing the actor's voice so that it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once added both presence and terror. This is our stand-in for the three witches. The spirit tells the two warriors what is to be their future: First, they will both receive promotions, then Washizu will go on to become lord of Spider's Web Castle, and Miki's son his heir. The spirit vanishes, and in an exchange, the two warriors discuss the impossibility of such a prediction... but the seed has been planted, and once the promotions do come down exactly as the spirit foretold, their fates are irrevocably decided.

It's very interesting to me to think about where the moment when Washizu's destiny became locked in might be. In my opinion, although the spirit seemingly knows the future and has seen all that Washizu will do and become, the heart of this story and the reason why it speaks so much to the darkness hidden within ambition is because Washizu very much does control his own fate. The first part of the prophecy was, indeed, prophecy; neither he nor Miki could have known they would be promoted upon returning to the castle. But as far as we know, had Washizu not killed the lord and embarked on a journey of immense and harrowing bloodshed, he may have become lord anyway through any number of events which could have unfolded. Washizu dooms himself because he dares to believe he's the sole arbiter of his fate. His role as lord is not coming to him fast enough, and he can't be certain of it, so he chooses the bloodiest, most direct path to securing it.

We cannot ever neglect Lady Macbeth. Her name is Asaji in this adaptation. To say much has been made of this character would be a vast understatement of her presence in the popular reception of Macbeth. To me, and especially in this film, certain characters can only partially be viewed as distinct entities and should instead be thought of more as extensions or alternate sides of Washizu's self. I have not given much thought to what Asaji was actually hoping to get out of goading Washizu into killing the lord and assuming his position. She of course would receive the benefit of being married to a lord, but her utter lack of emotion and almost instinctual recommendation of murder makes her feel nearly more inhuman than Washizu himself. I think she serves as a kind of external subconscious. Washizu at first may not be the kind of man who could murder his lord, but those thoughts are within him and, taking the form of his wife, outside of him as well. Their roles reverse somewhat as the story progresses, with Asaji becoming debilitated by an obsession with cleaning her hands of blood that only she can see and Washizu slowly being driven insane by paranoia and lust for power.

It goes without saying that Akira Kurosawa is one of the best directors ever. He does things with film that I've never seen anything even remotely comparable to. From his use of atmosphere to the ridiculously elaborate sets he built, his distinctive directorial techniques when creating jidaigeki make everything he did in that genre miles away from anything else being made at the same time. The thing that captivated me most about this film's production is the unbelievably intricate costuming. The man in charge of the costuming was also the film's art director, Yoshirô Miyaki, who worked on production design for literally every good Japanese movie you've ever seen over a span of about fifty years. Aside from that I cannot - though I would love to - find much more about the detail that went into outfitting everybody in this film. I also can't talk about it that much in terms of historical accuracy, that not being an area I'm too familiar with, but just watch this and look at every stitch putting together every plate of armor, every helmet, every woman outfitted in uncountable layers of fine cloth. It's really something else.

Now for once I can talk about something that I am familiar with, and that's Toshirō Mifune. Good god have I seen a lot of movies with him in them, as will anybody with even a passing interest in Showa-era Japanese film. He was in everything. But I really believe that Throne of Blood might be his best role. We all kind of know his deal; he usually plays brash, somewhat arrogant samurai types, or, later, various stiff-upper-lipped military generals - roles that involve a lot of machismo that most of the time goes unquestioned. His turn as Macbeth/Washizu is one of very few times I've seen him in a role where his usual tough-guy schtick is his undoing and is deliberately played up to create this slightly terrifying, unhinged warlord character. He's almost unrecognizable here. There are other people in this movie, even actors who are themselves quite famous (side note: I have no idea why it was so weird to see Takashi Shimura in full armor), but Mifune is really the centerpiece. My favorite fun fact about this movie is that he really was getting shot with arrows during his downfall scene at the end of the film. He was wearing padding under already heavy armor, but still.

I say this often, but this is really a movie that's tough to sum up accurately in the space of a few paragraphs. The scope of the production, the sheer scale of the physical construction and architecture, the thousands of extras used to fill out Washizu's army, the dedication to the costuming - really, I do handicraft myself sometimes, and I will not shut up about the costuming, because I know how absurdly time-consuming making all of that had to have been - all of it can't be done justice to in words. The film is bookended by a kind of Greek chorus lamenting the destruction of Spider's Web Castle, which we never see, but which feels inevitable - one can imagine a place that fraught with blood and obsession becoming so deeply haunted it can no longer be allowed to stand, nature must strike it down. That this is an amazing film is obvious, but what makes it so amazing is the elements that it borrows from non-film media such as kabuki plays. Masaru Satō, one of my favorite film composers, creates a score that's highly traditional with none of his usual jazzy exuberance. (As I understand, he was very early in his career  when he scored this.) My thoughts on one of the best movies of all time are redundant, but I want to encourage everybody to watch this. It's a delight, as is every Kurosawa film. Formal education on film as a medium may allow you to expand your vocabulary for describing why this is such an excellent movie, but it's not necessary for realizing that it's really something special.