I first saw this magnificent film at Cannes in 1980. In those romantic days before the building of the new Palais des Festivals in ugly concrete, the old Palais was a shining white building in the centre of the Croisette. I was there as a journalist and usually - even for the largest films (E.T, for example), the press conferences were in a top floor salon that accommodated around 150 maximum.
For Kagemusha, however, the press conference was held in the auditorium of the Grand Palais itself. We all waited with baited breath as the great man appeared in his characteristic black outfit, to a thunderous applause about five minutes after the end of the film. I can't remember who moderated the questions, but I can remember how Kurosawa deftly skirted around questions of finance, which were passed over to a representative of Coppola and Lucas, but was thorough and forthcoming in answering questions about the shoot and his views on the thematic side of the film.
But no one was very critical, as we had almost all been won over by this magnificent film - his first Japanese film for almost a decade. Although it was not alluded to in the press conference, the more I thought about Kagemusha, the more it seemed to me to be really very Shakespearean in theme - about the concept of kingship, and expressed the notion that the responsibility of kingship in itself imposes a certain nobility on the person who assumes it.
In the early scenes, the Great Lord Shingen who commands the throne as the film opens, is totally regal in his comportment, which is greatly contrasted with that of the thief who is chosen to become his 'kagemusha' or shadow warrior. But gradually, as the film progresses, the kagemusha assumes more and more the regal characteristics of Shingen, while Shingen's relatives prove themselves unworthy.
The film, like all of Kurosawa's mid- to late-period works, is visually magnificent with often symmetrical sets and bold clear use of colour in a quasi-symbolic way.
At that time, when I was in my early thirties, I had drifted away from the earlier reverence I had for the director, in a misguided belief that one had to choose between Kurosawa and Mizoguchi – much as some people still think that you have to choose between Chaplin and Keaton. But Kagemusha made me realise that in Japanese cinema there was really an extraordinary triumvirate in Ozu, Mizoguchi and Kurosawa and no choice was necessary. I do not find this film any less wonderful than 'Ran'.
For Kagemusha, however, the press conference was held in the auditorium of the Grand Palais itself. We all waited with baited breath as the great man appeared in his characteristic black outfit, to a thunderous applause about five minutes after the end of the film. I can't remember who moderated the questions, but I can remember how Kurosawa deftly skirted around questions of finance, which were passed over to a representative of Coppola and Lucas, but was thorough and forthcoming in answering questions about the shoot and his views on the thematic side of the film.
But no one was very critical, as we had almost all been won over by this magnificent film - his first Japanese film for almost a decade. Although it was not alluded to in the press conference, the more I thought about Kagemusha, the more it seemed to me to be really very Shakespearean in theme - about the concept of kingship, and expressed the notion that the responsibility of kingship in itself imposes a certain nobility on the person who assumes it.
In the early scenes, the Great Lord Shingen who commands the throne as the film opens, is totally regal in his comportment, which is greatly contrasted with that of the thief who is chosen to become his 'kagemusha' or shadow warrior. But gradually, as the film progresses, the kagemusha assumes more and more the regal characteristics of Shingen, while Shingen's relatives prove themselves unworthy.
The film, like all of Kurosawa's mid- to late-period works, is visually magnificent with often symmetrical sets and bold clear use of colour in a quasi-symbolic way.
At that time, when I was in my early thirties, I had drifted away from the earlier reverence I had for the director, in a misguided belief that one had to choose between Kurosawa and Mizoguchi – much as some people still think that you have to choose between Chaplin and Keaton. But Kagemusha made me realise that in Japanese cinema there was really an extraordinary triumvirate in Ozu, Mizoguchi and Kurosawa and no choice was necessary. I do not find this film any less wonderful than 'Ran'.
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