Tora! Tora! Tora!

Let's start the Memorial Day marathon a few days early, with a look at Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970). This depiction of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor flopped on its initial release, but gained a respectable reputation over the years. It's a middling epic, mixing impressive spectacle and admirable balance with reams of dry expository dialogue. History buffs will love it, but lay viewers might be bored or confused.

Imperial Japan stands on the brink of war with the United States. Premier Hideki Tojo (Asao Uchida) thinks that America threatens Japan's "Co-Prosperity Sphere" in China and Southeast Asia, and orders a reluctant Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto (Soh Yamamura) to plan for war. Yamamoto envisions a daring air strike on the US Naval base at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, which he hopes will cripple the US Pacific Fleet and allow Japan time to consolidate their gains in the Pacific. Meanwhile, American authorities seem unable to respond: though intelligence officers have broken the Japanese code, military leaders in both Washington and Hawaii are slow to respond to warning signs, and government officials hold out hope for a diplomatic settlement. A series of miscommunications, mistakes and misunderstandings leaves Pearl Harbor unprepared for attack, setting the stage for an epic disaster on December 7, 1941.

Tora! Tora! Tora! is Fox's attempt to repeat their success in The Longest Day (1962). Talented journeyman Richard Fleischer (10 Rillington Place) directed the American scenes, while the Japanese scenes were helmed by Kinji Fukasaku (The Yakuza Papers) and Toshiro Masuda (Rusty Knife). Though it eschews The Longest Day's all-star cast, it replicates that film's character ensemble, epic battle scenes and efforts at impartiality, with a top-notch production to match.

Unfortunately, Tora! is only a guarded dramatic success. Watching a military disaster unfold can be intriguing, as A Bridge Too Far and Valkyrie demonstrate, but the script (Larry Forrester, Ryuzo Kikushima, Hideo Oguni and an uncredited Akira Kurosawa [!]) is an awkward mixture of stilted exposition and portentious dialogue that eventually grows tiresome. Many viewers will be thrown for a loop, waiting impatiently for the final attack.

Rest assured, the finale is definitely worth waiting for. The forty-five minute long attack scene makes use of an impressive, seamless mixture of real planes and ships, models, miniatures and matte effects. The explosions have a powerful impact, especially when Japanese pilots score a hit on the flagship USS Arizona. Fleischer finds a lot of telling details amidst the chaos: the USS Nevada's band hurriedly finishing a rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner while being strafed, black cook Dorie Miller (Elven Havard) manning a machine gun on the West Virginia, troops at the Schofield Barracks meeting a nasty fate at breakfast. It's a perfect depiction of harrowing carnage, and definitely one of the best battle scenes ever filmed.

The movie's dual directorship allows for an interesting balance. The Japanese come off sympathetically: despite their aggressive, unjust war aims, we can admire the brilliant strategist Yamamoto, the earnest efforts of Ambassador Nomura (Shogo Shimada) to avert war, and the brave pilots who carry out the attack. But the Japanese make mistakes too: Tojo ignores America's offers to renew negotiations, making war inevitable. The diplomatic ultimatum is delivered an hour too late, allowing America to claim a sneak attack. Perhaps most importantly, Admiral Naguno (Eijiro Tono) refuses to launch a final strike, leaving Pearl's dry docks and fuel tanks intact. Thus, an impressive tactical victory becomes a squandered opportunity.

The Americans come off much worse. Wisely, the film doesn't finger individuals for responsibility, but rather an unwieldy bureaucratic structure. Communications are a nightmare, the chain-of-command is a muddle and poor tactical decisions (bunching planes together to prevent sabotage) ensure the attack's success. This extends even to December 7th: the sinking of a Japanese submarine is ignored, and, most incredibly, a radar officer is told "not to worry" about an incoming flight of Zeros! Admiral Husband Kimmel (Martin Balsam) and General Walter Short (Jason Robards) are so out of the loop they're ready to golf when the bombing starts. The soldiers, sailors and pilots are certainly heroic in action but that, and the absence of America's aircraft carriers, are the only consolation.

Soh Yamamura's sensitive portrayal of Yamamoto dominates the film, a man reluctant to pick a fight with a "sleeping giant" but determined to win all the same. The American cast lacks star power but has lots of recognizable faces: Joseph Cotten (Shadow of a Doubt) and George Macready (Vera Cruz) as oblivious cabinet members, Jason Robards (Once Upon a Time in the West) as the pig-headed General Short, E.G. Marshall (Nixon) as a dogged intelligence officer and Martin Balsam (Psycho), Edward Andrews (Summertime) and James Whitmore (Battleground) as assorted Navy brass.

Tora! Tora! Tora! is an interesting if flawed WWII epic. The lengthy lead-in to the attack might try some viewers' patience, but it's definitely worth the wait.

Rashomon

Rashomon (1950) is the fourth Akira Kurosawa film I've seen, and it produced a reaction identical to the other ones: respectful indifference. This comment applies equally to Rashomon, Ran, The Seven Samurai and Yojimbo: it's unquestionably a good movie and a well-made one, but not one that I would consider a masterpiece. Perhaps the lesson to be drawn is that I should move away from samurai movies.

In medieval Japan, a samurai (Masoyuki Mori) is killed and the woman (Machiko Kyo) he's protecting is raped by the bandit Tajomaru (Toshiro Mifune). Beyond that, conflicting testimony by the bandit, the woman, an eyewitness (Takashi Shimura) and even the dead samurai's spirit cast doubt on what really happened, until the philosophical viewer wonders if there's any truth at all.

Rashomon is primarily a concept film, and makes the most of its conceit. Each telling of the story is drastically different, not only in recounting events but in tone and style. In Tajomaru's account of events, it's a lusty, swashbuckling epic with heroic personages battling for the pleasure of a woman; for the victimized woman, it's a shameful melodrama of rape and torment. The woodcutter's version is a pointed pastiche of machismo, with a duel between wimpy, clumsy swordsmen and a woman who turns from cry-baby to she-bitch at the drop of a hat. This does an interesting job of questioning the objectivity of "truth" and knowledge, and fortunately the film is entertaining as well as philosophical. It should not come as a surprise that the basic story has been remade countless times, from The Simpsons to One Night at McCool's, but the original remains the best.

Kurosawa's direction is assured, utilizing different styles and for each store. The movie is full of striking visuals, with a great use of leaves, weapons and rain to block a clear view of events, and the film moves at a brisk pace. Toshiro Mifune is his usual boisterous self; he's fine up to a point, but his constant cackling grates on me after awhile. Of the remaining cast, Machiko Kyo's shifting interpretation of the woman, from weepy crybaby to tough feminist to black widow, comes off best.

Rashomon is another solid Kurosawa film that I can't proclaim a personal favorite. Perhaps Ikiru or Red Beard will do the trick? If not, I'll revert to my plebeian Anglophilia and stick with Powell and Pressburger, eh wot?

Yojimbo

Yojimbo (1961) is the third Akira Kurosawa film I've watched to date, after The Seven Samurai and Ran, and I'm still rather nonplussed. All three are undeniably good films, but none of them are really mind-blowing masterpieces. Still, I suppose I shouldn't complain too much for movies that are merely solid instead of incredible.

Feudal Japan is coming to an end, and swarms of samurais are now out of work, without a master or cause to serve. One such ronin is Sanjuro (Toshiro Mifune), who drifts into a small Japanese village perpetually at war - own faction led by Seibei (Seizaburo Kawazu), a brothel owner, and sake merchant Tokuemon (Takashi Shimura). Sanjuro's frightening speed and cunning wit impress both factions, but Sanjuro seems content to play both sides against each other, earning piles of money in the process. Ultimately, the two sides destroy each other, but Sanjuro is left to face off against Unosuke (Tatsua Nadaki), a hotshot would-be samurai whose pistol gives him an advantage over his foes.

Yojimbo was the direct inspiration for Sergio Leone's debut Spaghetti Western A Fistful of Dollars (1964), and Walter Hill's gangster flick Last Man Standing (1966) - though Kurosawa himself cribbed the story from Dashiel Hammet's Red Harvest. Neither of the aforementioned films is particularly good, while Kurosawa's samurai adaptation is a solid, entertaining piece of work.

As in his other films, Kurosawa examines the cost of loyalty and betrayal. With the Shogunate usurped by the modern Japanese government, Sanjuro has no loyalty to give; he is (in theory anyway) a completely amoral man. At first, he's simply having fun butchering the town full of scum, profit seemingly his only motive; how can he take sides in a fight between two gangs of cowardly crooks who lack the guts even to kill each other? And yet, he takes time out of his scheming to save a local family caught in the crossfire; ultimately, destroying his two opponents makes him a crusader for honor and justice, even if an inadvertent one. The modern world may have destroyed justice and honor, but the older still retains their chivalry - a very Fordian sentiment that does not seem remotely out of place in 19th Century Japan. Without a cause to direct it towards, however, the honor becomes a private one.

Kurosawa's direction is brisk and affective, stylish without being overbearing, permeating the film with a keen visual sense; images like the burning brewery, the dog carrying an amputated hand in its mouth, the street littered with dismembered corpses at the end, are incredibly striking. The action scenes are briskly staged, with quick-cutting and graphic violence years ahead of its time. Toshiro Mifune gives a strong performance, thoughtful, conflicted, both a badass and a man of conscience - miles better than his obnoxious clowning in Seven Samurai, at any rate. The supporting cast is adequate without any real standouts.

Yojimbo is a solid, entertaining piece of work that still holds up. Certainly it's miles better than its reworkings (sorry Sergio and Clint, your flick ain't that good), and I suppose it can be forgiven for not being the greatest film of all time. Still, I hope I can soon find a Kurosawa that is unquestionably a masterpiece.