Akiri Kurosawa’s film Rashômon (1950) was his first to generate international attention, winning the 1951 Academy Award for Best Foreign Film as well as the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. Its historical significance is indisputable. It single handedly put Japanese cinema on the international map while also introduced the notion of differing points of view as a dramatic element in mysteries and crime stories. It has been widely imitated and the name of the film has become a word of the lexicon. Rashômon now means, in effect, “truth clouded by conflicting multiple eye-witness perspectives.” The narrative approach taken by Rashômon has been imitated to some extent in many films, but most especially in Edward Zwick’s Courage Under Fire (1996). Akira Kurosawa adapted the script for Rashômon from a story by Akutagawa entitled Inside a Bush.

According to the Internet Database poll of film popularity, Rashomon is the fifty-seventh most popular film in all, sixth among non-English language films, and the second most popular Kurosawa film after The Seven Samurai. My personal view of the film is less elevated. Though I fully share the respect expressed by other critics for the strong filming technique employed in making this film, I find the story excessively contrived and simplistic, and the acting uneven.

The Story: The story is simple on one level, though it is made complicated by the very “Rashômon effect” that it first made explicit. The structure of the film consists of a series of flashbacks framed by conversation between three men at Kyoto’s Rashômon gate, where the three have taken shelter during a heavy rainstorm. One of the men is a woodcutter (Takashi Shimura), a second is a Buddhist priest (Minoru Chiaki), and the third a commoner (Kichijiro Ueda). They are recapitulating the events of a murder trial that has just taken place. The woodcutter and the priest are puzzled over the great disparities in the accounts of the various witnesses who were examined during the trial. The basic facts of the story involve a samurai (Masayuki Mori) and his wife (Machiko Kyo) who were traveling through a woods when they encountered a thief (Toshiro Mifune). The bandit is charged with murdering the samurai and raping his wife. Altogether, the court listened to four accounts: the woodcutter, who had witnessed some portion of the events, the bandit, the wife, and (through a medium) the murder victim.

Themes: The obvious theme of Rashômon, for which it is justly famous, is the unreliability of eyewitness accounts. Within this general theme, there are multiple issues that can be considered. By the time the story reaches the viewer of the film, it has been filtered through several levels of processing. At each of those levels, there is potential for additional distortion. First, the events were perceived by the participants and the eyewitness. At that level, perceptual bias comes into play. For example, the attitude and beliefs of each participant about thieves as a category of people, about samurai, and about women as wives or as objects of lust will influence how each of the participants perceives the others and the events.

Second, when each participant later tells their story, additional distortions are introduced because of the spin (including embellishment) each person chooses to put on the story so as to present himself or herself to best advantage. Spin can be accomplished by outright prevarication or by selective emphasis or omission. Personal advantage in the instance of the events of Rashômon clearly extends beyond merely the issue of guilt or innocence, since all are claiming responsibility for the samurai’s death rather than denying it. Personal advantage is this story is based mainly on personal values regarding honor and reputation.

Third (and something that most reviewers are ignoring), viewers of the film are not in attendance at the trial. We hear the accounts of what each witness stated at the trial from the men who are passing time waiting out the rainstorm at the gate. The accounts we receive may have been distorted by the perceptual bias of these witnesses now providing third-hand accounts as well as any spin they may have applied. For that matter, since this is a movie that we’re watching, we also have the biases and the spin applied by the original author, scriptwriter, and the film director. For example, the author, scriptwriter, and director are steeped in Japanese culture where the rape of a woman is viewed more in terms of her honor than her violation (which differs from the predominant view in most of America, especially in recent decades).

A few reviewers state in discussing this film that it demonstrates that there is no objective or absolute truth. Here’s one such example: “In the end, we are left recognizing only one thing: that there is no such thing as an objective truth.” Not so! There may be times when we cannot determine or reconstruct from accounts what actually transpired, but only one set of events actually took place. That set of events created multiple sets of perceptions because each participant’s mind colored his or her perceptions based on subjective perspective. Nevertheless, there was an objective reality separate from each person’s subjective view of that reality.

A second false conclusion reached by many reviewers is that there is no basis on which to sort through the various conflicting testimonies to get at a reasonable approximation of what actually transpired. For example, one critic states, “It is impossible to determine to what degree their versions are fabrications.” Obviously, movie critics are not lawyers or judges or, for that matter, scientists. Otherwise such statements would not be so freely offered. While it is true that one can not simply take observations or verbal reports as equivalent to objective truth, one can sometimes deduce objective truth by “correcting” the available information for observational bias. If one knows how any given piece of equipment works (including the human brain) and the nature of the distortions that it routinely applies to the data it generates, one can “back-calculate” by removing the bias applied by the equipment or brain and reach a pretty good approximation of objective truth. For example, astronomers routinely adjust calculations that they make regarding the position of objects in the sky for any gravitational bending of light that can be reasonably determined to have occurred between there and here. Our current view of the structure of the Solar System was deduced by taking into account our earthbound observational bias. While it looks to us like objects rotate around the earth, we have nevertheless concluded that the objective reality is quite different.

With respect to the biases applied by the human mind, judges and juries routinely take into account the motivations of witnesses. Generally speaking, people lie only when they have incentive to lie – incentive of one type of another. When no such incentive exists, we generally tell the truth if for no other reason than to increase the appearance of credibility when we choose to lie. The various accounts of the death of the samurai are not all equally valid or invalid. More to the point, the validity or invalidity of each account varies from one part of the story to another. Each person can be reasonably assumed to be least reliable for those parts of the story in which they have a personal stake – anything that directly or indirectly affects how each will be perceived in relation to how their respective values and self-image demand that they be perceived. The woodcutter has the least reason to prevaricate – except for any part of the story that might expose the fact that he stole the knife. The thief has little reason to distort anything having to do with the relationship between the wife and her husband, but plenty of reason to distort parts of the story that reflect on his bravery, reputation as a fighter, or desirability as a lover. Since we could, with enough analysis, reasonably determine the nature of the bias that each of the participants would apply to the story in order to serve their motivational requirements, we could adjust for those biases and reassemble a reasonable approximation of the truth.

Obviously, there are limitations to the ability to reconstruct truth by correcting for observational bias. The more different levels of transmission that have occurred, the more distinct kinds of bias have been applied to that set of information and the less useful that data becomes for any effort at reconstruction of objective reality. Rashômon involves more than just the initial bias of the participants in the crime. There are also the biases of the three men having the discussion at the Rashômon gate, and the author, scriptwriter, and director. The less we know about the kinds of bias that a particular mind applied, the less we can account for it. Rashômon provides precious little insight into the minds of the three men at the gate.

Then also, with respect to the “testimony” of the samurai through the so-called medium, this notion of the dead giving testimony is inherently ridiculous. I consider that testimony no more than the fabrications of the medium based on whatever biases and agendas that person might have. It would be given no weight whatsoever in a court of law. As far as I’m concerned, the inclusion of that element in the story was a waste of time and adds nothing to the main thesis.

So, while Rashômon raises the interesting issue of observational bias, it does so in a contrived and superficial manner that tends to lead viewers to glib conclusions. Kurosawa argues, in effect, through this film, that truth is relative and that objective truth cannot be found. In my opinion, that conclusion is false. Objective truth exists though it is separate from subjective perspectives. Observational bias and spin applied to testimony complicates the reconstruction of objective reality, but does not always preclude rational people from getting there by thoughtful compensations for observational bias.

Production Values: The technical skill with which this film was put together is remarkable in several respects. Kurosawa uses, for example, the device of the pounding rain to make clear that the events that frame the film are in the present and to distinguish them from the various flashbacks. The cinematography is consistently evocative. Visual images play as much a role as the dialogue in advancing the story. The scene where the samurai and his wife are passing through the forest is beautifully filmed. The sword fight (at least one version of it) is well choreographed.

I am not fond of the exaggerated style of acting used in this film, especially by Toshiro Mifune. His unrelenting shouting and prancing about and posturing are all too much for my taste. I find it distracting and not credible. Mifune and Kurosawa had a long partnership over many decades. Rashômon was already their fifth film together. Machiko Kyo, on the other hand was exquisite as the wife. Massauki Mori was more than satisfactory as the samurai. None of the three at the gate impressed me with their performances, though they were passable. The most impressive thing about the performances, however, (and I’ll include Mifune in this particular compliment) is the skill with which the three principals involved in the crime changed their respective demeanors and characters with each retelling of the story. They gave convincing expression to the notion of varying subjective realities. Machiko Kyo, for example, is able to shift from pure and sympathetic to treacherous and manipulative.

Bottom-Line: Rashômon is a highly regarded film and has indisputable historical importance. I personally rank it only fifth among Kurosawa films (behind Ran, The Seven Samurai, Ikiru, and Yojimbo, but many film lovers rank it as Kurosawa’s greatest or second greatest work. Either way, it's worth a viewing. For those seeking a first acquaintance with Kurosawa, I’d recommend The Seven Samurai first, followed by Ran (which is even better but not quite as easy to appreciate).

The Criterion DVD is a superb version, especially for those who enjoy extras. It has several worthwhile ones. There is a studious commentary by Donald Richie, a Japanese film expert. There is an introduction by Robert Altman and excerpts from both Kurosawa’s autobiography and a documentary about the great director. Even better, the film transfer to DVD is excellent. Rashômon is in Japanese with English subtitles and has a running time of ninety 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
The Hidden Fortress
High and Low
Ikiru
Kagemusha
Kwaidan
Ran
Red Beard
Samurai 1: Musashi Miyamoto
Sanjuro
Sanshô, the Baliff
The Seven Samurai
Shall We Dance?
Stray Dog
The Woman in the Dunes
Yojimbo

Recommended:
Yes

Video Occasion: Good for a Rainy Day
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age