Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams
“Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams” was, I think, my first time watching a film from the great master. I think the main reason I was curious was because it was “presented” in the States by Steven Spielberg, who had already solidified himself as my favorite filmmaker. I wonder how many other film fans can say the same thing- that they came to Kurosawa through another filmmaker. After all, Kurosawa is, arguably, the most influential filmmaker of all-time, especially when it comes to the generation of filmmakers that gave us Spielberg, George Lucas, Francis Ford Coppola, and Martin Scorsese, all of whom helped the director out in the last decade and a half of his life.
When I think about it, “Dreams” was, at once, probably the best– and worst –Kurosawa film to start with in beginning to watch the director’s work. On the one hand, it was one of the most recent, and because of its colorful imagery and wonderful stories, it’s relatively accessible to someone who hadn’t yet started to explore world cinema. On the other hand, though, it’s dream-like parables deal in metaphor and symbolism, and a very Japanese sensibility that makes one think starting with his samurai films (which helped define the American action movie for 40-plus years) such as “Seven Samurai,” “Yojimbo,” and “The Hidden Fortress” would have been the better way to go. No matter; my experiences with “K,” as he was sometimes known by fans and fellow filmmakers, began here, and wow, it was quite a way to start.
Kurosawa was 80 when “Dreams” was released in 1990, and he had already deeply entrenched in exploring his own mortality, both in his films, and in his life. He had gone nearly blind; he had attempted suicide; and his career had stalled in terms of his productivity. Between 1950 and 1965, he had made just about one film a year, but from 1970 on, he had only made four films prior to “Dreams,” with his most recent being his summation of his samurai epics, “Ran,” which he had adapted from Shakespeare’s
- King Lear
. After “Dreams,” he made two final films, “Rhapsody in August” and “Madadayo,” before retiring, and finally, passing away in 1998. “Dreams” begins that final burst of creativity on a powerful, poignant, but flawed note, but given that Kurosawa was adapting eight dreams of his own into narrative short films, flawed was inevitable for this film.
The first thing that strikes you about “Dreams,” regardless of how you feel about the film as a whole, is how beautiful the images are. Most filmmakers with full use of their sight are incapable of such elegant, wondrous visuals, so how Kurosawa- who was almost blind at the time- managed such a feat is near miraculous. (Of course, he did have help in the form of uncredited co-director Ishiro Honda, but the result is wholly Kurosawa’s vision.) Shot by cinematographers Takao Saito and Masaharu Ueda, with special effects by Industrial Light & Magic to help bring the stories to life, “Dreams” is one of the most haunting, hypnotic visual films of all-time, and the peak of Kurosawa’s career as a visual filmmaker. Whether it’s the serenity of a peach orchard, or a landscape being painted by Vincent Van Gogh (played by Scorsese in, arguably, the most out-of-place vignette of the film), or the scenes of death and apocalyptic despair that make up some of the most striking moments of the film, all are seen with a clarity and purpose that can be seen in any of Kurosawa’s film, from “Rashomon” and “Ikiru” to “Sanjuro” and “Kagemusha,” but defined his last few films, his final statements to the world, in which he told stories of great personal importance, in a way that brought them to life in deeply emotional ways. As an artist myself, it’s an inspiring thing to watch, and makes me hope I’ll be able to accomplish even a portion of the artistry Kurosawa did near the end of his life.
I know I didn’t really get into the segments themselves, so I’ll go through them in order, and say a bit about them
“Sunshine Through the Rain”: A boy, told to stay inside when it rains while the sun shines, nonetheless goes out, and sees a fox wedding processional, which is a sacred act. He returns home to find he has caused displeasure with the foxes, and is sent to beg their forgiveness. This is one of the most beautiful vignettes in the film, and from a thematic standpoint, gets the film started off strongly.
“The Peach Orchard”: Another boy is serving his sister and her friends, when he thinks one is missing. He goes out searching, and comes across a peach orchard, and its inhabitants. He wants to see the orchard bloom, and gets his wish. Another beautiful one, though from a narrative standpoint, not as strong as “Sunshine.”
“The Blizzard”: Climbers are caught on a mountain during a blizzard face death. That’s all there is to the story, and when combined with Kurosawa’s remarkably bleak images, it’s one of the strongest vignettes in the film, and even on par with “Ran” in its apocalyptic vision.
“The Tunnel”: Probably my favorite sequence in the film besides “Sunshine,” as a soldier walks through a tunnel, and is met by his squad, all of whom died on the battlefield. I don’t know if Kurosawa had ever dealt with mortality and the futility of war with more power and pain. Maybe “Ran,” but it’s certainly a toss-up.
“Crows”: A young art student goes into the paintings, and meets Vincent Van Gogh. Scorsese has fun playing the role, and there are some great images, but it’s certainly the weakest sequence of the bunch.
“Mount Fuji in Red”: A town is decimated as Mount Fuji erupts. There are four survivors, but death seems like the only option. Another one with haunting images of death, but after “The Blizzard” and “The Tunnel,” Kurosawa shows us nothing new or lasting.
“The Weeping Demon”: In a post-apocalyptic landscape, a man is confronted by demons and giant flowers. Slightly better than “Mount Fuji” because of the originality of the visuals in conjunction with the narrative, but still pales in comparison to “The Blizzard” and “The Tunnel.”
“Village of the Watermills”: A return to the beauty and serenity of the first two segments, as an old man talks to a young man about man’s responsibility to nature. The film ends with a funeral procession as playful as the opening wedding processional was solemn; a perfect parallel on which to close the film, and lovely in how Kurosawa sums up the thematic threads throughout his dreams with a simple conversation.
