Ran

There are few endeavors so arduous as making a film, and one that might fall into the category of epic- that is saved for the few masters of the art form. This is what makes the achievement of a film like Ran (Japanese for "Chaos", pronounced "ron") such a remarkable feat, considering Akira Kurosawa made it at the ripe old age of 75. At a time when most would find themselves on a golf course, or perhaps a much more sedentary life, Kurosawa had a far more active view of how he should spend his twilight years.

It's a noteworthy capstone to his illustrious career for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the mastery with which he weaves the rich narrative, largely derrived from Shakespeare's King Lear. It took nearly ten years to bring the samurai tale to the screen. Despite a stunning resume of films like Rashoman and Seven Samurai, his funding streams in Japan had dried up. The elderly Kurosawa refused to give up on the project, or his career for that matter, spending the intervening years sketching out his vision on paper. In the introduction to screening I attended at the Dryden Theater on Sunday, it was related that he had essentially painted the entire film by the time he got around to actually shooting a single frame. But eventually, French producer Serge Silberman, who had a history with outsiders such as Spanish filmmaker Luis Bunuel, took up Kurosawa's cause. And so Ran, finally became a reality.

Frequently, in a filmmaker's later years, the vigor and inventiveness of youth has faded, and what audiences are left with is a shadow of greatness. Perhaps still worth a look, but only a passing glance at best (see Woody Allen). Not so with Kurosawa. Ran is among his finest hours (nearly 3 hours actually). And that is saying something when considering the breadth of his work. He directed more than 30 films over a 50 year period, and several are now looked upon as classics not just among Japanese films, but among all films.

The most striking aspect of the work is the brilliant color, which fortunately had been well preserved for this viewing at the Dryden with a newly struck print from the original camera negative. The costumes were handmade over a period of three years, well deserving of the Academy Award designer Emi Wada received in 1986. Despite being a samurai film that centers around escalating conflict between rival factions of a family, there is not an abundance of bloodshed. It's not what you'd call gratuitous by any means. When Kurosawa does choose to show such things, he does it with gusto. He makes a point of sending streams (and I do mean streams) of bright vermillion shooting through the air and splattering on walls, floors and anything else that happens to get in the way. Let's face it, samurai are not out to do their dirty work in a pleasant way.

The battle scenes are another thing entirely. We see scores of soldiers falling violently from their horses (I would have hated being a stunt man in this film) and the occasional gore. Hands down, the most infamous example is the shot of a soldier holding his own severed arm while screaming bloody murder. But such graphic examples are few. For the most part, the battle scenes, which incidentally entail about only 10 to 20 percent of the entire film, are artfully choreographed. The audience is drawn in by a series of panoramas, intercut with carefully laid out static closer views of the chaos on the battlefield. In Kurosawa's hands, war is more of a ballet than a bludgeoning.

Ultimately, Ran is about the drama of an aging father, trying to pass on a legacy to his sons, none which possess the guts that he has. This is what is truly captivating about the story. The rest is secondary. For what might be considered by some to be a war film, it is rather slow moving. Through much of the film, the action exists more within the tension created by characters' interactions that any sort of physical combat. And as any person with parents and siblings knows, there are few things in life more dramatic than familial squabbles. 25 years after its release Ran still feels fresh, and is quite breathtaking to see on the big screen. How many of the films made today will we saying that about a quarter century from now?