For my first entry I decided to delve
as far back as memory would allow, and revisit what may well have been my first
foray into the huge world of Japanese cinema. I must have been about fifteen or
so, and I had videotaped a late night SBS broadcast of Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams. Of course I had heard his name, so I
figured it was about time I explore some of his work. Having since watched many
Kurosawa films, I have many conflicting feelings regarding Dreams being my first introduction to the Japanese cinema master. At
times I think that if I could have my time again, I would not have started
here, a twilight years Kurosawa, with the samurai tales he is so associated
with long behind him. In fact, in recommending Kurosawa’s work to others, I
would most probably suggest other more accessible works, namely Throne of Blood or The Hidden
Fortress. On the other hand, I would not have it any other way, and can’t
imagine having started anywhere else. I have such fond memories of this film,
and it continues to evolve and grow on me in many ways upon repeated viewings.
I liken watching this film to spending a solid few hours in an art gallery
viewing an exhibition (in this case, something of a retrospective) of an artist
with a formidable history and absolute command over his craft. It is mentally
challenging, visually stimulating and ultimately, hugely rewarding.
Kurosawa presents what was to be his
third last film as a series of eight visions. Dreams he actually saw throughout
different stages in his life. These dream sequences cover a wide range of
subjects and concerns, yet all are linked through Kurosawa’s perfectly realised
visual style. Some are steeped in Japanese tradition and folklore, while others
reflect more directly Kurosawa’s personal concerns of ecology and even
impending apocalypse. The film grows steadily deeper and darker as it progresses;
the opening sequence Sunshine through the
Rain is arrestingly beautiful, as is its proceeding dream The Peach Orchard. The deliberately slow
pace of the film is established from the outset, with emphasis definitely on imagery
rather than dialogue, and unfortunately, this is what will turn many people off
this film. My favourite dream, The
Blizzard is a drawn out sequence of mountaineers facing their icy death brought
about by a Yuki-Onna (ice woman) on a mountainside. There is hardly any
dialogue, or even movement, but it is pure visual wonder.
When I first heard the news of the
Fukushima Nuclear power plant disaster last year, the first thing that went
through my mind was “Kurosawa was right.” Indeed, it seems he foresaw the
tragedy with his eerie sequence Mount
Fuji in Red, which, along with The
Weeping Demon would be better described as nightmares rather than dreams.
Following a power plant meltdown, Japanese citizens flee from the nuclear
fallout, throwing themselves from cliff faces rather than face the gas that
will surely turn them into mutants.
I believe that Dreams may be Kurosawa’s most personal work, and upon viewing, one
can sense that the director was in his final years. A feeling of beautiful nostalgia
is often present, and some characters are easily read as a young Kurosawa. His
influences and loves, Japanese or otherwise, are clear, particularly in Crows, his tribute to Van Gogh (Played
by Martin Scorsese no less), as are his fears, and what could be seen as memories
of childhood and wartime.
As I said, this movie is quite
challenging, and most people will brand it “Boring” within the first ten minutes.
But if you are patient and don’t mind an absence of dialogue and action scenes,
the rewards are great and many. This movie is something of an old friend to me,
and just like the works of great painters or writers, its beauty, particularly
the extended musical, visual and even dance sequences, can be revisited and
appreciated over and over. Unfortunately it is not as well-known as other Kurosawa
works (of course, the Samurai films), especially in Australia, where it has not
received a local release, but I think SBS still screen it every now and then.
