Ein streunender Hund

*-Catch it on TV **-Worth a Rental ***-Buy it Used/On Sale ****-Buy it New/Top Dollar *****-Worthy of a Blind Buy

Until early May of 2004 I was, for lack of a better label, an Akira Kurosawa virgin. I had never had the privilege of watching one of his masterpieces and every time I had the opportunity something got in the way. In May I found myself with a hundred dollars (a small fortune to a high school student with no job) and staring at Kurosawa's Four Samurai Classics dvd collection at Best Buy. The box set included the Criterion editions of Seven Samurai, The Hidden Fortress, Yojimbo, and Sanjuro priced at $82.99. I saw this as a bargain since Criterion edition dvds usually run around $40 a pop, so I bought it without hesitation. After viewing all four films over a weekend I craved more Kurosawa and spent what money I had left on Rashomon, thus beginning my foray into Kurosawa's art.

I have been extremely satisfied with the five Kurosawa films I have seen and was pleased to receive Stray Dog in the mail today from Netflix. I began watching it within about 20 minutes of getting it and from the beginning I was hooked. The film stars Toshiro Mifune as rookie detective Murakami in 1940's Tokyo. Murakami's pistol has been stolen from him while riding a crowded bus on a hot day. Disgraced at himself for having lost such an important item he sets out to find the culprit and enlists the help of veteran detective Sato (played by Takashi Shimura). Together the two detectives hunt down the man responsible. However, things get worse and their investigation intensifies as they learn that the weapon is used in an armed robbery. Sato becomes a mentor to Murakami and takes him under his wing as they get closer and closer to their perpetrator.

Toshiro Mifune's performance is magnificent. He is not the over confident Kikuchiyo from Seven Samurai, or the calm and cool ronin from both Yojimbo and Sanjuro; instead he is a rookie detective in 1940's Tokyo. Mifune portrays a Murakami filled with tension and self-loathing. As his gun is used in more acts of violence, Murakami sinks deeper and deeper emotionally by placing the blame entirely on himself. Takashi Shimura is equally impressive as the veteran Sato. These two actors play very well off of eachother. Their chemistry alone is enough to make you want to see the film, luckily it is not the only reason. Akira Kurosawa tells the story with amazing pacing that seems slow but never boring. The use of forshadowing had little to do with subtilty and added to the tension of the film as the detectives closed in on their suspect until the tense climax, which I will not spoil for you.

All in all Stray Dog was two hours of intelligent storytelling combined by skillful acting. I would be tempted to give it a ***** rating solely because it is Kurosawa, however he gave me enough reasons to do so in the film itself.

A long-standing blemish on my status as a film buff has been the fact that I had never seen a film directed by Akira Kurosawa, easily the most well-known and respected Japanese filmmaker. Finally, my drought has been broken, as I sat down last night to enjoy 'Nora inu / Stray Dog (1949).' A police procedural in the classic film-noir tradition, the film stars Kurosawa-regular Toshirô Mifune as a young homicide detective whose firearm is pick-pocketed while on a bus. When it becomes clear that the weapon has fallen into the hands of a desperate, murdering criminal, Det. Murakami becomes consumed with guilt and shame, and it is only through the experienced guidance of mentor Det. Sato (Takashi Shimura) that he can overcome his insecurities and track down the suspect. 'Stray Dog' was the director's tenth film, and the third in a wealth of collaborations with Mifune throughout an illustrious career. Though it is not quite the masterpiece I had {probably unreasonably} been anticipating, I can only promise that my first Kurosawa will certainly not be my last.

Surprisingly, 'Stray Dog' is similar in many regards to Vittorio De Sica's neorealist masterpiece 'The Bicycle Thief (1948).' Both films concern a disillusioned man's seemingly-futile search for an essential stolen object, in a city of poor and pitiable individuals, where, in the aftermath of World War Two, widespread economic difficulties have forced many towards a life of crime. When Det. Murakami first begins searching for his stolen gun, there is a wonderful extended sequence in which he purposelessly wanders the poverty-stricken streets, experiencing the decadence of society for himself, for the first time understanding why a criminal might have been forced to tread a darkened path. A very important theme of the film is the obvious parallel between Det. Murakami and his suspect, Yusa (Isao Kimura). Both individuals fell on hard times when their knapsacks were stolen: while the former took the crucial step towards law enforcement, the latter chose the opposite path, eventually becoming a thief and a wanted murderer. In the story's climactic chase sequence, the two men tussle violently in the undergrowth, their faces becoming coated in a layer of mud; for a decisive few moments, detective and criminal are practically indistinguishable from each other.

One component of film-making that Kurosawa had evidently mastered by 1949 was creating intensity, and, in many ways, 'Stray Dog' is simply discomforting to watch. The events of the film appear to take place during an extreme heatwave, and the perspiration clings to the skin of the actors as though they are practically roasting in their seats. When the story reaches a devastating climax, its arrival is heralded by the breaking of a storm, the passing of the sweltering drought perhaps symbolising that the dull, futile routine of police procedure has come to an end. I was also impressed by the frantic chase sequences at both the beginning and end of the film, which, aside from being exceptionally thrilling, were genuinely harrowing. Watching Murakami and Yusa grapple in the vegetation, before both collapsing to the ground in fatigue, I don't think I've ever seen film characters looking so utterly exhausted. Despite a masterful opening and closing, 'Stray Dogs' tended to drag a lot in the middle, with the two detectives moving from one possible witness to the other, very slowly gathering the information they require to track down their suspect. Nonetheless, I now have the massive undertaking of deciding which of Akira Kurosawa's films I will watch next.

STRAY DOG stands as the legendary Akira Kurosawa's first real masterpiece, noteworthy for at least two big reasons: the style - classic American film noir (rich, velvety b&w atmospheres), enhanced with a touch of Italian neo-realism (great use of diverse locations, which provide a great view of day-to-day postwar Japan), and the star, a young Toshiro Mifune, whose truly collaborative association with Kurosawa was cemented here, and would grow in spectacular fashion during the subsequent 16 years.

Mifune became as much of an international icon as Kurosawa, and this is the first film where it's easily evident why. As an example of film noir, STRAY DOG offers plenty of gripping suspense and moral complexity, and holds up well alongside classics like THE BIG HEAT, THE KILLING or THE MALTESE FALCON. Kurosawa touched upon international influences to an unprecedented degree in Japanese film (the internationalist impulses of Ozu, Kenji Mizoguchi or Mikio Naruse are just as deep and varied, but far more discreetly deployed), Kurosawa also skillfully highlights Japanese specifics (the rookie cop expecting to be fired, even accepting the possibility in an apologetic fashion, only to be assured that he will not be fired - this would not occur in a similar American setting), while always linking the same details to universals: honor, nobility, responsibility. This would become the thread linking Kurosawa's celebrated period/samurai films to his contemporary dramas. STRAY DOG was perhaps the first of his films where it truly resonates in a global fashion - a timeless, classic film.

Captivating American-esque noir, one of Kurosawa's first great films. What seems like a weak premise for a thriller at the start actually ends up providing a great central situation for this movie which drives it forward much better than, say, Donzoko. Music, also is great.

Toshiro Mifune, looking young and handsome, is quite marvellous as the central character, a detective whose gun is stolen on a bus. What starts out as a detective nervous about finding his gun and fixing a silly mistake, develops into a frantic and desparate man who feels somehow responsible for whatever crimes are committed with his gun. The suspense and detective-story plot are well developed in Stray Dog, but what really makes the story captivating is the revelation of the central character's feeling of guilt throughout, and his learning about crime, criminals, and that what is important is to make good come of your mistakes.

The following year, 1950, would see Kurosawa achieve his first major international success with the masterpiece Rashomon. Here, Kurosawa doesn't quite have the sureness of touch which would characterize most of his career, but Stray Dog is nevertheless a fine film noir and an effective exploration of Kurosawa's ideas about postwar Japan in particular and the human condition in general.

As you might expect from such a genius, Kurosawa is not satisfied with a simple good-guys/bad-guys cops-and-robbers story. He explores in depth the social and economic conditions in postwar Japan which led many young people--particularly returning veterans--to take to crime, and also the particular circumstances which motivate the acts of Yusa (Isao Kimura), the criminal. Indeed, a series of mistakes by the hero, rookie detective Murakami (Toshiro Mifune), are one factor behind Yusa's crimes.

But neither is Stray Dog a facile blame-society message film, either. Kurosawa makes no excuses for Yusa. By giving Murakami a very similar history (so similar, in fact, that it comes off as a little contrived), Kurosawa makes the point that Yusa had the same choice as Murakami. That he chose differently is his responsibility.

But even more interesting to me is the character of chief detective Sato (Takashi Shimura), Murakami's superior officer, mentor, and friend.

Sato is the wise elder figure in this film, and in the hands of a lesser artist than Kurosawa, such a character generally ends up as a mouthpiece for the director's own viewpoint. Here, though, Kurosawa permits Sato to espouse a hardcore law-and-order philosophy: The cops are the good guys, the crooks are the bad guys, and that's it. Sato has no patience for Murakami's guilt feelings or touchy-feely philosophizing.

That Kurosawa would permit this view (which is not Kurosawa's view, nor the film's) to be given voice by the film's wisest, kindest, most competent, and most likable character is a mark of his confidence and courage.