159 Red Beard

[psufootball07]

4 years and no comments...

I got to see this yesterday and really enjoyed the film. However, I really disliked one scene in particular in which Mifune turns into a samurai and beats the crap out of everyone, felt really out of place with the rest of the film.

I was also surprised to see Chishu Ryu at the end, having become so accustomed to seeing him in Ozu.

[Jun-Dai]

Hmm, good point. I should have posted earlier. I finally watched this recently, after all these years.

I agree with Kerpan that colin's assessment is very good, and upon re-reading it, I think I understand better why I don't like the film very much.

The film was something of a disappointment as I had pretty high expectations. It's Kurosawa's last film before the… er… great shift in his career. His last black and white film. His last film with Toshiro Mifune. It's long. I'd heard it had some of his best cinematography. I'd heard it was Toshiro Mifune's finest performance. It was supposed to be the logical conclusion to his career thus far, and the summation of it in some sense, but only the sum of the important parts of his career. It's Kerpan's favorite ;~}

Anyhow, those were the expectations I had going in. I usually try to keep my expectations from getting out of hand, and I should have in this case also.

What I found was a film full of characters that were sort of operating on a metaphorical level. They weren't real characters. They were examples. Each character seemed to exist only to serve some sort of didactic purpose. Only the main character and Akahige himself had any nuance at all, and yet in some sense they were even more metaphorical than the others. These aren't real characters, this isn't really a story, and this isn't really a film—it's a series of ideas or lessons that are simply being illustrated as a film, with the story and characters being used as a means of doing so.

On some level I've always had a bit of this trouble with Kurosawa, which is probably why I prefer Ozu and Naruse. But here in Red Beard I find one of the few barriers between me and Kurosawa's films to be sort of distilled into its purest form and stretched out over an entire three-hour film.

This isn't to say that I didn't like the film. But I had a hard time becoming engaged with it. I couldn't become engaged by the story or by the characters. The acting, pacing, and visual style of the film were interesting enough to keep me going on its own, but my enjoyment of the film was sort of up and down. I sort of found myself withdrawing as the film went on, getting pulled in as I find out new things and withdrawing again once I realize where it's headed and have to watch it play out.

If I watch the film again, I may find myself appreciating it more (or at least I'll definitely get to know it more), but for now at least, it's probably my least favorite Kurosawa (which says more about how much I like even his lesser films than it does about this film). That said, it will probably be a while. I still have to watch Drunken Angel and The Quiet Duel (my last semi-major Kurosawas).

[HerrSchreck]

I got to see this yesterday and really enjoyed the film. However, I really disliked one scene in particular in which Mifune turns into a samurai and beats the crap out of everyone, felt really out of place with the rest of the film.

If I recall correctly he uses martial arts of the hands & body and not swords-- is it that hard to believe that a doctor could know martial arts, or that a person could be excellent at two things?

If you can't accept his ubermensch role as a martial artist, the rest of the film should go out the window too, since he carries this 'apartness' as a Great Man throughout the narrative no matter what he does. He's an exemplar, and a very obvious one. You don't have to go around killing people every waking moment of your life (or in every scene of a film) to be a good fighter.

As for the film, for me it's by far-- not even close-- Kurosawa's greatest masterpiece.

[Jun-Dai]

If I recall correctly he uses martial arts of the hands & body and not swords-- is it that hard to believe that a doctor could know martial arts, or that a person could be excellent at two things?

I'm guessing his objection is not that he is good at two things, or that it's implausible that the character would know or be good at martial arts, but that the ridiculousness of it is along the lines of what you'd expect to see in, say, Sanjuro. He fights against a large band and manages not only to defeat them, but to snap their arms and legs like twigs in the process, without overtiring himself.

For me, it's one of the clearest illustrations of how Kurosawa likes to use characters as personifications of some trait. Here, the doctor is not defeatable. The band could have been 10 or it could have been 500, but the result is the same. He can only be defeated by someone who is his intellectual (or possibly spiritual) superior, and the practical considerations (fatigue, timing, numbers, physical skill as something independent from some sort of higher wisdom) are not really ever brought into play.

The scene for me, emphasizes that the doctor has chosen to be a doctor for moral and intellectual reasons, and not simply because it was his calling. He is simply superior to others and can defeat them in whatever way he's being challenged in, but instead he's taken on the more interesting task of turning others into better people, in precisely the way that Colin describes.

[Mr Sausage]

These aren't real characters, this isn't really a story, and this isn't really a film—it's a series of ideas or lessons that are simply being illustrated as a film, with the story and characters being used as a means of doing so.

I don't understand: why should its being an allegory (or a film-of-ideas if you want to call it that) mean its not "really a film?" Would you claim that Thomas Mann's or Dostoevsky's books aren't really books for the same reason, since they do exactly what you've listed above? I mean, I can understand why you don't like it, but I don't understand how it ceases to be a film because of it. Seems like a perfectly valid and filmic mode of representation to me.

[ehimle]

What I found was a film full of characters that were sort of operating on a metaphorical level. They weren't real characters. They were examples.

this is pretty much true of most of the characters in many of kurosawa's films. its his main story telling technique. for example the 7 samurai has every character this way. each playing out their role, in each sequence/vignette the characters go through what kurosawa deems the most idealistic actions to happen according to his philosophy of life. most of his films are this way or most characters fail in their idealistic actions depending on how cynical he is at the stage of his life he is in.

red beard is definitely his last where he allows the heros' to succeed in showing a good example of idealistic living. (at least from most of the later kurosawa i've seen). and the movie is his culmination of ideals, philosophies, techniques and overall awesomeness of his earlier films. yet also in the shadows of the film lie the cynicism of kurosawa and foreshadowing his near misanthropic, disillusioned view of humanity that runs amok in later films such as ran or kagemusha.

i agree with schreck its a masterpiece but feel if i were to try and rank it above some of his others my mind might explode. i prefer to sandwich this between 7samurai and ran (no particular order)... but if watched in a row its like a cliff notes of kurosawa's film career.

[HerrSchreck]

If I recall correctly he uses martial arts of the hands & body and not swords-- is it that hard to believe that a doctor could know martial arts, or that a person could be excellent at two things?

I'm guessing his objection is not that he is good at two things, or that it's implausible that the character would know or be good at martial arts, but that the ridiculousness of it is along the lines of what you'd expect to see in, say, Sanjuro. He fights against a large band and manages not only to defeat them, but to snap their arms and legs like twigs in the process, without overtiring himself.

For me, it's one of the clearest illustrations of how Kurosawa likes to use characters as personifications of some trait. Here, the doctor is not defeatable. The band could have been 10 or it could have been 500, but the result is the same. He can only be defeated by someone who is his intellectual (or possibly spiritual) superior, and the practical considerations (fatigue, timing, numbers, physical skill as something independent from some sort of higher wisdom) are not really ever brought into play.

The scene for me, emphasizes that the doctor has chosen to be a doctor for moral and intellectual reasons, and not simply because it was his calling. He is simply superior to others and can defeat them in whatever way he's being challenged in, but instead he's taken on the more interesting task of turning others into better people, in precisely the way that Colin describes.

My point in specifying his use of martial arts instead of swordsmanship was because the poster above said "He suddenly turns into a samurai" or something like that. Being a practitioner of the martial arts doesn't make one a Cinematic (chambura style) Samurai, of course.

As to the rest of your objections to the film, Sausage has already taken up the line of questioning I'd pursue w you, so I'll pretty much most of that angle alone.

But:

While agreeing with Sausage's line of discussion viz your objections (he's treating those objections as if they were valid, i e that the characters really were archtypes, to rightly explore the question-- why does the fact that the narrative functions as an allegory reduce the import or acceptability of the sum?), I'd point out that I'm not really clear on why you think Kurosawa has failed to established authentic, fucntional, believable characters.

The doctor is indeed defeatable. He's beleaguered and overwhelmed.. he's nearly broken by a system which couldn't give a rat's ass about his efforts... he advises his charge in the end that his desire to follow in his footsteps is rampant idiocy.. he belittles himself and exhibits humilty.

Yes he is a "hero" in the classic sense of the word-- and other characters positioned along the narrative thru-line have functions viz its resolution-- but if this negates the authenticity of a narrative then pretty much the sum of literature back to ancient times must be disqualified, and the whole art of storytelling needs to be tossed away.

This doesn't make them non-characters-- it makes them functioning characters in a working, well-plotted narrative with a goal. In the case of Redbeard, I find them fully rendered, 3-dimensional, breathing, and well-variegated. The movie is exquisite!

[skuhn8]

I got to see this yesterday and really enjoyed the film. However, I really disliked one scene in particular in which Mifune turns into a samurai and beats the crap out of everyone, felt really out of place with the rest of the film.

If I recall correctly he uses martial arts of the hands & body and not swords-- is it that hard to believe that a doctor could know martial arts, or that a person could be excellent at two things?

If you can't accept his ubermensch role as a martial artist, the rest of the film should go out the window too, since he carries this 'apartness' as a Great Man throughout the narrative no matter what he does. He's an exemplar, and a very obvious one. You don't have to go around killing people every waking moment of your life (or in every scene of a film) to be a good fighter.

As for the film, for me it's by far-- not even close-- Kurosawa's greatest masterpiece.

Easily my favorite Kurosawa as well--hands down--and never falling out of my top 5 favorites list. The fight scene referenced here is part of the beauty of characterization. A doctor whose vocation is to mend is here put into a situation where he must break--and the irony of course is that he carries himself as a doctor in the process, using his expertise to 'clinically' dispatch his attackers, and probably doing so knowing full well that it will be his task to mend them again later. His character is so thoroughly articulated that he easily calls to mind those teachers in troubled neighborhoods who find themselves carrying out social services work in the neighborhood--not just marking off truancy but visiting the homes to look into the cause and perhaps affect change. Mere Doctor/Mentor doesn't come close to defining him here.

I have to confess that given the somewhat downward trajectory Kurosawa's career took after this (and after Red Beard it seems almost impossible to go anywhere but down) I find it fitting that the Mifune/Kurosawa collaboration went out with a bang and not a whimper.

[Jun-Dai]

I don't understand: why should its being an allegory (or a film-of-ideas if you want to call it that) mean its not "really a film?" Would you claim that Thomas Mann's or Dostoevsky's books aren't really books for the same reason, since they do exactly what you've listed above? …

I admit that calling it "not really a film" was a bit of hyperbole on my part. What I meant by it was that, for me, certain films seem better on paper than they do as an actual filmgoing experience. Red Beard is a great example of film as a literary medium, but this creates for me a certain barrier that prevents me from really engaging with the film. Death in Venice is another example of this. In some ways, Death in Venice is the most perfect of all films, and you could certainly write at least as much about it as about any other film ever made. Yet, for me, as a filmgoing experience it falls incredibly flat. Over many repeated viewings I've come to appreciate Death in Venice on a different level—not as a film I particularly enjoy, but as a film that I can watch, alone, and think about continually as it plays, and I doubt I've thought about any film as much as that one. But I don't think I'd recommend Death in Venice to anyone else, unless I knew they were prepared to take it on in spite of its rather unappealing layers of pretension.

Red Beard's main difference from Death in Venice (at least with regard to what I'm talking about here), is that it is pretty much flawlessly executed. The acting is superb, and the cinematography, if not Kurosawa's best, is at least fairly close. For Death in Venice, the acting is very mixed, and Dirk Bogarde gives one of his more ridiculous performances. The cinematography, while an important part of expressing the film's ideas, is actually fairly aesthetically unappealing.

[Jun-Dai]

this is pretty much true of most of the characters in many of kurosawa's films. its his main story telling technique.

To some extent I agree, and as I said, it's one of the reasons Kurosawa's not my favorite director. What I feel is different about Red Beard, however, is that the film seems boiled down to that essential quality of Kurosawa films. It's a Kurosawa film mostly stripped of humor, action, and, I would argue, the humanness characters, with the didacticism turned up to 11.

Ikiru is also a sort of parable, and in it we still see characters that are very strong representations of specific traits, but, being something of a rougher film, the characters become more human in their interactions with one another. Ikiru is about the transformation of one personification into another personification, but in order to make that transformation convincing, Watanabe is really fleshed out to a level that none of the characters in Red Beard are. To me, Watanabe's peculiarities and the way he interacts with other characters and thinks about his life is more interesting than either the larger story or the larger lesson.

The characters in Seven Samurai also lean strongly towards personification (and the characters in Yojimbo and Sanjuro even more so), but rather than using the story and characters as devices to express a set of ideas, the film seems to make those personifications subservient to the story, which orchestrates the interaction between these various personifications in ways that I find interesting. In Red Beard the story seems subservient to the exploration of various personifications that in turn seem subservient to a certain set of ideas that the film is trying to express. In Seven Samurai, Yojimbo, Sanjuro, etc., I find that the personifications are subservient to the larger story, and while certain ideas are flushed out in the story (e.g., it's always better not to fight, things are usually not what they seem), they are flushed out because they strengthen the story (rather than having the story stretched and pulled in various ways to express the ideas).

These are not flaws, and I'm guessing this is part of why people who like Red Beard feel so strongly about it. Kurosawa is as careful a filmmaker as it gets, and this is his way of working, and within what I would consider his fairly narrow range of filmmaking, there is really no one that is better at it.

Also, I take back what I said about Red Beard being my least favorite Kurosawa. It occurs to me now that there is actually one Kurosawa film I didn't like, and that is Dersu Uzala. The rest are all very good.

[Jun-Dai]

… I'd point out that I'm not really clear on why you think Kurosawa has failed to established authentic, fucntional, believable characters.

The doctor is indeed defeatable. He's beleaguered and overwhelmed.. he's nearly broken by a system which couldn't give a rat's ass about his efforts... he advises his charge in the end that his desire to follow in his footsteps is rampant idiocy.. he belittles himself and exhibits humilty.

Yes he is a "hero" in the classic sense of the word-- and other characters positioned along the narrative thru-line have functions viz its resolution-- but if this negates the authenticity of a narrative then pretty much the sum of literature back to ancient times must be disqualified, and the whole art of storytelling needs to be tossed away.

This doesn't make them non-characters-- it makes them functioning characters in a working, well-plotted narrative with a goal. In the case of Redbeard, I find them fully rendered, 3-dimensional, breathing, and well-variegated. The movie is exquisite!

To break these points apart a little bit:

On storytelling. I would never argue that Kurosawa was not a great storyteller. He's one of the best in the world of film. I found the story of Red Beard to be more pedantic and awkward than his other stories, however.

On the character traits. You're right—the doctor is defeatable. What I meant, and should have said, is that he's not defeatable by any other single person, except himself. The humility isn't really central to this point—I think that's just one of Kurosawa's own ideals that he tends to put into his favorite characters. The doctor is the representation of a particular set of ideals, and while this enables him to be, e.g., a great fighter, part of his ideal is his sense of duty, and so he must take on a Sisyphean task, and in this case that task is providing medical care for the poor. In some ways the film plays a sort of double game of emphasizing the ideals he personifies by showing how he occasionally falls short of them—for example, using too much force in the battle when a little less would have served just as well, but even that is pretty infrequent.

On the plasticity of his characters. Most of the background characters serve some sort of purpose—to show a particular perspective, to reveal something about another character's thinking (e.g., the floors aren't tatami, because those are unsanitary), or to impart some sort of lesson. Beyond that, there isn't much too them as characters. This is what I really meant when I was referring to the two-dimensionality of the characters—the characters aren't ever really flushed out beyond what is necessary to serve their purpose within the film. It's a sort of "character-depiction" economy that I've rarely seen exercised so well, but to my mind really prevents the characters from being plastic at all.

The polar opposite of this is the sort of film where characters are grown out of the actors that play them, and the story is subservient to the characters and the kind of lives they lead. One approach is not better than the other, although I would argue the more realist approach is much more specific to the medium of film whereas the, er, Kurosawa approach is more of a literary approach that is combined with great cinematography, acting, etc., but doesn't really depend on them.

[colinr0380]

Yikes! On re-reading my previous post all I could see were the spelling mistakes and grammatical errors! (Nice to know that some things haven't changed since then!)

I think Red Beard would be my favourite Kurosawa too if I were forced to choose but I also sympathise with Jun-Dai's points. It is an episodic film of lessons being taught to the characters, forcing them to understand their misapprehensions. Everyone is given the opportunity of having their motives understood and people who pass bad judgments on others are quickly shown their error, without much blame placed on them for making such errors (except in the case of the brothel madam getting bopped over the head and run out of the film!) But that isn't the way the real world works, much as we may wish it to.

So if we were to critique it as a realist film it would likely fail. But as someone who constantly finds myself in frustrating situations of being misunderstood and not able to adequately redress the balance in everyday life Red Beard never fails to touch me and leave me tearily nodding and saying to myself "yes, that's the way the world should be!" In that sense it is a classic tearjerker taking the characters, and the audience with them, to the depths of degradation and desperation, until suddenly they are saved (or if not saved at least their suicidal actions are understood as coming from an understandable place, or they are absolved of their guilt by the audience who witnesses their confession). There is a certain pleasure to be taken in watching a decent person become a pariah with the knowledge that they will eventually be understood and their suffering will have actually been worthwhile. That is what makes the film so pleasurable for me - I know it is a piece of rhetoric but one which I find appealing.

A film as obviously allegorical can still be inspirational and provide ideas we might hope to use in our everyday lives in some manner, such as trying to be slower to jump to judgments of others and to look beyond our initial impressions of people, places and situations until we have more information available. I like the way that beyond the life lessons the film seems to show the way that society is formed through collaboration (or exclusion) and that everyone we come into contact with has an impact on our view of the world, although maybe not in such obvious cause and effect terms as shown here! (As Jun-Dai says, everything in the world of the film has a functional and illustrative purpose)

I should also note though that I also love the later didactic films like Ran and like the full expression of this idea in more of an optimistic vein at the end of the 'classical' Kurosawa period set against the darker, more bitter and disillousioned (and maybe shriller in their message) world weary films in which notions of heroism, loyalty and duty are re-evaulated through more jaded eyes. I do not really find it a surprising about face, more an additional complicating facet to his career.

[dad1153]

Watched "Red Beard" on TCM for the first time over the weekend, one of three Kurosawa flicks I saw over the weekend. I knew nothing about "Red Beard" going in. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be (a) a three-hour intimate epic about 19th century Japanese doctors (and their patients), (b) Kurosawa's last B&W scope film and (c) his last collaboration with Toshirô Mifune. As the movie began I couldn't repress thoughts of "Feudal ER" and "Marcus Welby in Japan" in my wise-ass mind. These mocking quips quickly went away as Mifune's quiet-yet-imposing presence in the handful of dramatic scenes he's in (his screen-time can't possibly be more than 20 min. tops) established his Dr. Niide character as the central figure from which every other character in the movie draws upon (in a good and a bad way). When Niide said 'I'm abominable' with a straight face I had to pause the DVR to let the laugher subside at the tongue-in-cheek irony of that remark. 8-)

The vignettes about the handful of patients in the clinic the movie focuses on range from slightly-overwrought (Kyôko Kagawa's insane crazy woman, Sahachi's conveniently timed death-after-landslide-unearths-body bedtime confession) to the heartbreaking (Rokusuke's death and the plight of his daughter, little Chobo's tragic family life). The transformation of Otoyo (Terumi Niki) and Dr. Niide's visit to the rich overweight patient (whose self-induced obesity sets him apart from, but financial status provides assistance to, the poor needy patients seen by Niide) were standouts, along with the tear-inducing 'yelling at the well' scene. Yuzo Kayama plays the Tom Cruise role (cocky and arrogant young doctor that disapproves of his even being at the Koshikawa Clinic) surprisingly well, completely selling his conversion into a disciple of Red Beard's philosophy by the movie's end. Despite his change of character/heart as the movie progresses though I couldn't help but think of Kayama's Dr. Yasumoto as a cypher, a blank page being filled with learned notes as opposed to a human being showing any traits of personality and/or individuality amidst the movie's arranged path for him. I know it's the way A.K. wanted Niide to make his biggest impact (by how Yasumoto has completely changed by the end of the picture), but are young doctors-to-be really as impressionable and/or colorless as Yasumoto comes across through most of "Red Beard"?

All the character's stories and situations come together in the end to form one Kurosawa's last cinematic canvas' of hope amidst despair, a still-positive view of humanity from A.K. before his descent into a cynical period of negative self-reflection (which still gave us some pretty great movies). Throw in a gratuitous (and most welcomed) scene of Mifune kicking ass at a brothel and a wordless cameo by Yasujiro Ozu veteran Chisu Ryu near the end of the movie (hooray! =D>) and "Red Beard" is a fitting, head-held-high conclusion to the successful Kurosawa-Mifune partnership/era. Came into the film with no expectations and ended up with three hours flying by and a cup of soda barely-sipped because I was too engrossed in the proceedings to bother drinking it (even during the intermission that allowed me to enjoy Masaru Satô's relaxing music).

[Fiery Angel]

Damn...I thought this was announced for BluRay!

[Mr Sausage]

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[Michael Kerpan]

First thought. This really is 2 fairly distinct films. Yes, part 1 (before the intermission) and part 2 (after it) are certainly connected. But part 1 unambiguously ends the initial story arc. Part 2 is, in essence, a sequel. If this had been made a decade or so earlier, this could have been a two-parter (like Imai's fairly prestigious The Blue Hills, from 1949).

[Mr Sausage]

Narratively, for sure. But I view the two parts as theory/practise. The first part breaks down the doctor's class- and self-imposed barriers, the second part tests what he's learned in a prolonged, difficult situation. It's a more compelling movie, too, as it actually includes one of the oppressed and victimized as a full, developed character.

[Michael Kerpan]

I have no problem with both parts being contained in one film, but also have no problem with watching this film in two installments. Much harder to do with (the even longer) 7 Samurai.

[Mr Sausage]

It's an interesting structure. It's not the first time Kurosawa used a two-part narrative structure (High and Low comes to mind), but it is the one with the greatest division between the two parts. This is speculation, but I don't wonder if it isn't because Kurosawa needed to get his main character somewhat out of the way in order to focus on the girl in the second part.

[ando]

One of the truisms that initially issues from to Genzo to Noboru is that the Koshikawa Clinic is a terrible place. But I think it isn't until the second part that we really see that the challenging conditions have far less to do with material lack than seemingly unsurmountable personal problems - and often it's not clear which is responsible for the other. But getting down to the root of both is apparently the real lesson of Noboru's tutelage under Red Beard.

I believe one of the aspects that gives the film an epic quality is the enlargement of the personal to the communal. There is practically no line between them! Everyone seems to have a hand in the fate of everyone else's life. The lines of demarcation, whether of class or intelligence that Noboru brings with him are diminished in the second half. I think it's one of Kurosawa's strongest (and recurrent) points; namely, that our modern focus on individual accomplishment and happiness has led to a disintegration of the traditionally cohesive communal structure. I'm not sure if Noboru's about face - in terms of his initial repulsion of the clinic - is entirely believable and that without the presence of the incredible force of nature that is Red Beard we, as an audience, would buy the ending. But Mifune's performance puts over Kurosawa's point without calling undue attention to itself.

[Michael Kerpan]

I buy the notion that our young hero has had an epiphany by the end of pt. 1.

[ando]

Yeah, due more to the sudden Yojimbo turn by Red Beard than simply rescuing the abused child (wouldn't you say?). Love K's trademark visual bookmarking:

at the half-


at the end -


Like the "It's terrible here" sentiment its use is simple and has increased resonance as the film progresses (looks appropriately ominous at the half; Bruegel-like bonhomie at the end).

The cinematography is splendid (not like the (sorry) horrible high contrasts in High and Low - must have been an about face in art direction) and really tells half the story. K rivals Ozu with the revealing low shots (a nice progression from the The Seventh Samurai interior shots, for instance) which were probably a threshold he needed to cross given the almost domestic setting of the story.

The lighting throughout is marvelous but and with a few exceptions the blocking is fluid and framing intriguing. One recurring shot that gets overused, imo, is the that of Sahachi beneath the clinic blanket from overhead, employed repeatedly as he tells the story of his tragic love affair:



While the shot itself is rather static and ambiguous (he could be sick or frightened) the dialogue/exposition clarifies his situation. But we linger on variations of this shot for too many frames and the ensuing melodrama takes some of the energy away from the pace of the film.

Conversely, the blocking and framing of scenes between Noboru and Otoyo, though shot primarily indoors, have a dynamism to them even in the most still moments:



It may be that K was more invested in telling the Noboru-Otoyo story than that of the others since it carried more weight in terms of the overall narrative. Of course, Sahachi is dying in the still above and, to be fair, it can't be easy to instill dynamism in a passage that's really meant to be reflective but I felt it lacked even the startling quality of Noboru's earlier scene with the dying older man. And I believe it's probably because we're largely witnessing the death through Noboru's horrified reaction than through the portrait of the dying man alone.

[ando]

Before we continue I must say that I while I share the widely held high regard for Red Beard I won't abstain from critique. What I've generally found are assessments like this:

The film's formal perfectionism is remarkable even among Kurosawa works... In fact, the film is so perfectly crafted that it exorcises itself from any kind of genuine conflict or disharmony, either among characters or between characters and their environments.

Covering all of K's cinematic output, roughly a chapter for each film, Yoshimoto dedicates all of one page to Red Beard. Needless to say I've been disappointed, especially after discovering that K had little to say about the Red Beard experience in his book, Something Like an Autobiography. Perhaps someone here can suggest a substantive study or two on the film and I certainly hope we can abstain from such a hands-off approach to an admitted masterwork, but one that isn't immune to critical discussion.

[ando]

Before I weigh in on the conspicuously placed heroics of the Brothel rescue sequence here's Dan Jardine's (from Slantmagazine.com) take on its relevance:

This scene is extremely emotionally gratifying but is also intellectually dishonest given the tenor of what has gone before. The fact that Red Beard is able single-handedly to dispatch so many foes without sustaining even a bruise is a terrible betrayal of the film's otherwise stellar realism.





But Christ! When Kurosawa pans across the carnage after Mifune has leveled that entire crew, I felt like I was looking at a miniature of the wounded soldiers in the Atlanta scene in Gone with the Wind. The sounds of the bones being broken is later matched by the sight of these beaten deadbeats crawling around in the dust with compound fractures. Pretty grizzly stuff. Later on, Red Beard gives some lip service about how he should never have done it, that a doctor's job is to heal, not to hurt. This is hot air given that he was trying to do just that (trying to protect the girl from further harm) and these soon-to-be vanquished foes were preventing him from doing so. He had no alternative. To leave the girl there, alone, would have been an even greater abrogation of his duties as a doctor, no? So, the message is that the martial arts were called for. It's an outstanding action sequence, but it's cowboy crap.

[dda1996a]

I'm surprised no one mentioned that this was Kurosawa and Mifune final collaboration together. Probably the single greatest collaboration in cinema history