Sometimes a Shot...

...knocks you dead.

Dan here:

This is the start of a new series of blog posts directly inspired by David Bordwell's series of the same name and intention (in fact, I almost stole word for word his same idea for a sentence...just let it be known). It is an awesome exploration of how filmmakers dictate one particular shot so meticulously that thematic elements, emotional expression, and pristine form are all highlighted. Essentially, the film can be reduced to this shot. That is not to say the film should be looked upon with just one shot (that severely discredits the film) but on a narrative and emotional level one can encapsulate the film's tone and lasting effect through this one shot. So, without further ado...

This is taken from Akira Kurosawa's 1957 classic, Throne of Blood. Kurosawa, who was also a painter, was a master, a surgeon even, in composition. He delicately places important objects and characters in respective places that highlight their emotional and thematic significance. In the case with Throne of Blood, Kurosawa shows the ultimate destruction of a man who was suffocated by blind ambition.

This film is one of the the several Shakespeare adaptations Kurosawa would make in his career, and Throne of Blood draws its roots from Macbeth. What is incredibly interesting about this film, and really all the other Kurosawa adaptations, is that there is a cultural infusion of Shakespearean themes and Japanese traditional art. In Throne of Blood, Kurosawa infuses the theatrical style of Noh theatre with the framework of Macbeth's narrative. Noh theatre is roughly characterized by their minimalistic set designs, where the focal point are the costumes and movement of characters. Britannica states that, "Little 'happens' in a Noh drama, and the total effect is less that of a present action than of a simile or metaphor made visual. The educated spectators know the story’s plot very well, so that what they appreciate are the symbols and subtle allusions to Japanese cultural history contained in the words and movements." In general, a viewer must focus on the the main players of the the film, how they look, and how they move within the minimalistic spaces. Much of this film takes place in barren, geometrically sound rooms.

This shot takes place at the end of the film, where Washizu (the Macbeth in this story) has assumed power over all the lands and castles, according to the spirit's premonition. Also according to the spirit, the only way Washizu would be defeated would be when the, "forest moves." Well, the forest moved and as soon as Washizu's men see this they stop fighting in hopelessness. In manic desperation, Washizu tries to compel them into fighting again. Tired of being manipulated, his men turn on him with an endless volley of arrows. Shot by, at least, fifty arrows, Washizu finally succumbs.

But let's actually take a look at this shot, since that is the point of the post. And let us start to take a look at the form of this shot or how it is spatially set up (mise-en-scene for you cinephiles). We have the samurao army standing at the top of the frame and then we have the main character, Washizu, remains at the bottom right. There is a diagonal emphasis here in the spatial relationship between Washizu and the his (once his) army. I feel this is achieved (regarding the army) through the slight curvature of the group, accentuated by the spears held low by the soldiers in the top left, providing an invisible line that runs directly through Washizu. This diagonal line provides a discrete source of tension in this particular shot between the two subjects.

The cinematography of most Kurosawa films (and in this one the D.P. is Asakazu Nakai) is dominated by flatten depth with an emphasized use of the telephoto lens. This one is no different. This is important because, regarding the way the camera is set up in its high angle manner, the army is technically farther away from the camera than Washizu, but they also appear higher than Washizu. This sort of placement in the visual arts usually denotes a domineering aspect for the 'higher' subject in relation to the 'lower' subject. Consequently, it visualizes the power reversal between the general and the army.

The element that stands out the most, personally, are the many layers comprising the tone and significance of the shot. The first layer, the foreground, is of Washizu, or Washizu's corpse, riddled with arrows on all sides. The next layer, the middle ground, is of the crucial fog that has dominated the landscape for the whole film and is the defining symbol for blind ambition. Note how it surrounds and eventually engulfs Washizu's body. Then the background, populated by the soldiers, now shows a vast disconnect between them and their lord.

 I have to mention the way the content within the shot moves, even though, unfortunately, you as the reader cannot see this. Nevertheless, movement in this shot is hypnotizing. Strangely, Kurosawa seems to use slow motion very very rarely, but when he does, he seems to always put them the most effective and visually stunning places. Washizu falls slowly into the stream of fog...the fog slowly wraps around him like a coffin. It is a glorious tragedy of a death, the lumbering motion gives weight to the dramatic fall of Washizu.

Kurosawa assembles a thematic landscape that articulates the tragic folly of the film's protagonist with crucial pace, ending not with a bang (though certainly starts with a bang) but with a whisper. This shot, in relation to the arrow barrage right before, acts as a sort of echo of Washizu's being and ambitious existence. Returning to the Noh inspiration, we can think of the army as the audience, watching a character with a violent costume of jaded armor and a multitude of arrows. This character moves in a minimalistic space of only fog. His performance ends, the audience concludes their viewing of man driven into madness by his own persistent nature (his final bow, perhaps?). And this fall is more symbolic than it is actual. What a well done shot...a shot that can knock you dead.