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To have a film that holds the coveted title of being the reason that the "Best Foreign Film" category was created for the Oscars is one thing, but to be able to back up that myth with a powerful film that speaks both about humanity and the strength of truth is a whole new angle. Often we witness powerful foreign films that slip through the lines of cinema, regarded by so many as valuable assets to the film community, but never see the gold of Oscar. In the same sense, sometimes the most popular of those foreign films eventually become Oscar contenders, not because they are worthy enough, but because studios had the funds to allow bigger distribution to audiences, thus allowing popularity to do the rest. Rashômon is one of those few films that succeed in giving us both a quality film and the accolades to represent it. Rashômon is a rare breed of film. The Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa took many bold steps with this film (pointing his camera at the sun, filming deep within the jungle, and the mockery of truth), that it is unlikely that you could go to a modern day Hollywood film without seeing one of these techniques being "borrowed". His bold storytelling, creative camera work, and powerful characters give us a unique story that should be included in everyone's film library.

While the characters were strong, the direction was flawless, and the story was compelling, there is a theme that needs to be discussed while talking about Rashômon. This is the story of murder, betrayal, and rape and in any typical "courthouse" film you would have some spineless witness finally break down and confess the truth. At the end of these films the truth is discovered, but not in Rashômon. Kurosawa gives us the "black sheep" of themes by never really giving us what we really wanted from the beginning of this story. As I began this film, I thought I was going to get a clear-cut story with honesty and troubled souls, but instead I was handed no prize at the end. What I sought after the most is not handed to me in a Happy Meal container at the end, but instead trapped still within the film. Kurosawa gives us the meaning behind the story, that there possibly is no way of knowing the true "truth". Four different souls, seeing the same event all culminating to four different results means that the "truth" may never be known. Kurosawa has taken the story and provided us with the main character being truth, and like Kaiser Soze, the greatest trick it ever pulled was convincing us that "it didn't exist". Deep within Rashômon the truth is hidden, and it may never emerge, but that is what Kurosawa intended. A viewer could walk away from this film, after several viewings, and discover different truths about the characters and story. This is a constantly evolving film that will continually get better with time.

Outside of these beautiful themes, Rashômon is a flawless film. From the execution of the actors to the simplicity of the direction, there is plenty in this film to keep your mind busy and your jaw nearly dragging on the floor. To begin, the performance by Toshiro Mifune ranks among the best in film history. In each of the stories he is portrayed differently (even in his own) and with precise execution he delivers every time. He is insane, passionate, loyal, and villainous all at the same time. While some may see his acting as eccentric or over-the-top, I found each of his portrayals as accurate and astute. When Mifune is on the screen his presence commands your eyes and you cannot help but become involved. Second to his performance is that of the troubled wife. While her characters is the most confusing/suspicious of them all, Masayuki Mori keeps us intertwined with the story by controlling her character with the greatest of ease. When it is time for her to be unleashed, the true drama of the story is thrown in your face with brilliance and expertise.

Overall, I thought that this was a near perfect film. Kurosawa is intense, original, and adeptly secure about his stories. I have seen the same passion in Ran, and it cannot be denied. My only concern with this film is that if you are going to watch this movie, make sure that you can devote your entire mind to it. I found myself watching it three times because I could not stay focused (outside factors) enough to see those darkly hidden themes. I especially enjoyed the unearthed darkness of humanity, which is hinted on at the end. The fact that after hearing these stories of murder and rape, it doesn't stop one from continuing along a similar path. It is a powerful tale that should be enjoyed by all!

Grade: **** out of *****

'People forget the unpleasant things. They only remember what they want to remember.'

In Rashomon the editing tells ½ of the story. It may feel experimental or unconventional, but Kurosawa perfects the concept second by second, directing and editing. This film didn't need a big budget to come perfectly to the point. It's a simple tale, but not a superficial tale. Different points of view and selective memories ('It's true! I saw it!') don't only make the woods unsafe, but are one of the most universal topics of humanity. 'We humans are weak creatures. That's why we lie, even to ourselves' says it all actually: it's about what people want to hear and when they start being interested at all, apart from wishful thinking. Selfish excuses vs trust in other people.

Rashomon gets masterful when in one instant there is literally a different point of view: the camera takes another position to shoot the same sequence, thereby forcing the audience to reconsider what they just saw. That is the sort of storytelling that the supposed masters of cinema in our time yet have to equal, or try to copy when they fail. Admitted 'Memento' (2000, Nolan) is a truly great one. Still not THAT universal. 'Pulp Fiction' (1994) didn't come close, 'La Commare Secca' (1962) also didn't. 'Ghost dog: the way of the samurai' (1999) touched another border of the concept, or does it?

The use of (non-original) music in my opinion reveals a certain interest for western influence, not only in Rashomon, but also in Kurosawa's forthcoming films, and is probably why his films were so influential on western filmmakers too.

The cinematography is dynamic and changes scene by scene to emphasize exactly what is going on. The shadows of leaves and branches, captured by cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa, make you really feel 'in the woods', while the actors (Toshirô Mifune, Takashi Shimura) convince the remaining part of the audience (which adds up to 100% breathless viewers). It may be after days that you first realize you saw an important film. After weeks you realize that you must see it again to comprehend (despite it's only 85 min), and ironically that is just one of the crucial points that Kurosawa made. 10/10

"Rashomon" was Akira Kurosawa's first national hit (becoming, at the time, the highest-grossing foreign film in America) and even gained an Oscar for Best Foreign Film, but almost sixty years later it still hasn't lost any of its impact. It is widely revered as one of the most influential films of all-time, but unlike some other movies, it is not a film that feels dated. The revolutionary methods of Kurosawa are still effective and on-par with the cinema of today -- this isn't a movie where you say, "Yeah, fifty years ago it might have been different, but now it's done in all the movies." Kurosawa's techniques are still superior to most of his imitators. Look at the 2003 John McTiernan film, "Basic," which copies a good portion of "Rashomon's" concept. Which is the better film? It's not a hard choice.

The film begins under a structure which reads "Rashomon" on its exterior, in a small Japanese village. It's raining outside and a woodcutter (Takashi Shumura) and a priest (Minoru Chiaki) inadvertently find themselves in the company of a wandering commoner (Kichijiro Ueda), and as he asks them what is the matter they both begin to relay the most horrific story they claim to know -- of a brutal murder a few days prior.

Kurosawa then switches to flashback and we see three different versions of the exact same event -- the slaying of an innocent man (the murderer played by Kurosawa film regular Toshirô Mifune) in the woods outside the village. Was it because of lust? Betrayal? Envy? Or insanity? We hear from the murderer, the wife of the victim, and a woman channeling the spirit of the dead man.

"Rashomon" is brilliant. Some people have complained that the ending is a cop-out and sentimental hogwash, but I think Kurosawa was fond of sentimentality to a point (he uses a good deal of it in "Ikiru") but the difference between what he does with sentimentality as opposed to many filmmakers of today is that he uses to to ENRICH the story, not provide an easy solution to all the problems.

Is there resolution in the finale of "Rashomon"? To a degree. But, like "Ikiru," it also leaves an open answer to its audience -- this film questions us, and our humanity, and it says something about the human condition and our weaknesses as a species. Yet it also proposes that along with the evil is an inherent good, and in my opinion the message of "Rashomon" is just as important and effective as its film-making techniques and acting.

Akira Kurosawa was one of those directors, the first from the Eastern hemisphere, to develop the form and structure of cinema in ways it hadn't been. The story he used for Rashomon is now, like Seven Samurai, Hidden Fortress, and Yojimbo, a near archetype that at this point in the history of film has become formula and common knowledge for writers and directors. In that sense, Rashomon is as important and entertaining as a film as Citizen Kane, Battleship Potemkin, Rear Window, or Open City. Tee basic premise- Four different people give four different accounts on the rape and murder of a couple in the woods. A key ingredient to the success of Rashomon, is that the recollections given to the courts by the woman, the bandit, the as well as the four in discussion, is that their emotions reveal their humanity, even if their details reveal nothing, or everything. It's difficult to say whether character goes over story here, or if they have equal importance to understand Kurosawa's psychology with these people.

The opening shot of the house is a perfect representation of the mature of the picture, something that has fallen apart over time due to disasters that go beyond control of individuals. The man who heard the testimonies of the trial says "I don't understand". This has been a discussed line, since essentially he's saying the point right up front. All the information won't ease his puzzlement. The three who discuss the details of the crimes and confessions are crucial- they speak for us, what our opinions might be, and we listen to each version of the story, the characters, the fears, the pride, the shame, and the search for judgment and/or truth in the situation.

Along with being director and co-adapter, Kurosawa's mastery is revealed heavily in his use of editing- there are short, fleeting moments that hint, or rather pronounce, emotions and thoughts. For instance, when we first see Tajomaru, the bandit, played by action-legend Toshiro Mifune, he is looking up at the sky, bound in straps to keep him from moving, and for a second, or less than a second, there's a shot of what he sees in the sky, then back to his face which reveals an expression that borders on skeptical, and a bit crazed, or more. Mifune's part is of a barbarian, but all the more believable as a human barbarian since he acts as such with animal desires- he sees the woman in the woods, and knows he wants her, and while he reflects that he didn't have to have killed the man, he did as a last resort as a man with an urge. This is intensified by a sadistic flee with his actions.

What's intriguing about that first description/recollection of the battle between him and the other man, is that it seems like it could be the truth, and to one viewer it could, and to another it seems like it could all be apart of his hyperactive and trapped imagination. And in the attack of the bandit on the woman, at first to him, it's like a game, then in later descriptions, he feels a little more un-easy, then later, it's of neither pleasure or discomfort, it just is. This kind of technique later happens with the woman who was victim (who has conviction, though is herself an archetype of Lifetime women), the presence who saw it "all", and with the man who in the beginning didn't understand. In each telling the expressions, the cut-aways, the lighting and movement by Kazuo Miyagawa, it's equally startling, exhilarating.

That the film gives off such a hypnotic aura isn't surprising, or perhaps it is for those in the grips of the emotion of it all- the dead man's story is like the hook ripping into a twelve foot bass. The final accouter of the tale proves the most accurate to the common observer, yet Kurosawa knows that's not the point- if he made it as such to be bold AND had a definite concrete point, the ending would be as poignant when revealed is the truth, or what one could believe as the closest thing to it is. We know why that last person didn't want to get involved with the courts with what he knows: his story is no more a revelation, of any comfort or consolation to the listeners, than the others. I highly recommend this to anyone, and to those who have distaste to foreign films should view it once anyway- it's certainly not a long movie, and it won't loose its grip on anyone willing to give itself to the tale(s). For me, it's another to add to my top 50 of all time.

As oppose to its commonplace plot, Rashomon as a concept is extraordinarily idiosyncratic and perhaps it is this striking attribute that makes it an undisputed masterpiece, howsoever improbable. It vividly limns the artistry of contrivance innate in the human psyche owing to the importunate desire of humans to placate their insatiable egos. This manipulation of facts has no limits and entirely depends upon the skill of imaginative improvisation of the individual along with his level of comfort at skullduggery. The ability to misinterpret comes naturally to the humans as a desperate ploy to counter the adversities of life and that's what makes it indispensable. As a direct consequence of contrivance, the concept of truth no longer remains universal but becomes rather subjective and a matter of individualistic perception.

Rashomon pioneered Kurosawa's dream tryst with perpetual brilliance and undoubtedly played a pivotal part in making his name a mark of excellence in the world of cinema. Rashomon is a well knitted tale about a supercilious samurai, his whimsical wife and a boorish bandit. The bandit inveigles the samurai into imprisonment and has his way with samurai's wife. The dead body of the samurai is later discovered under mysterious circumstances by a woodcutter. The bandit is captured and arraigned along with the deranged widow of the samurai. Their narrated versions seem such contrasting that a psychic is called upon to conjure up the dead samurai's spirit to record his testimony in order to corroborate the facts that seemed excessively manipulated. The samurai's version yet again differs considerably from the testimonies of the other two. Each version though different seemed to satiate the respective ego of the testifier. The woodcutter, who didn't want to get involved personally, later confesses to a priest to have actually witnessed the incident and comes up with a version of his own which falsifies the other three. The movie is ingenious as its actual motive has nothing to do with the revelation of truth as verity is merely a matter of lame perception, but rather is to highlight the discrepancies among the different versions as a medium to depict the irrational complexities associated with the human psyche.

The concept of Rashomon though well ahead of its time, sowed the seeds for creative innovation in the world of cinema and has served as the undisputed benchmark of innovative excellence for well over five decades. A quintessential Kurosawa classic, strongly recommended to the masses for its sheer brilliance and enigmatic charm. 10/10

This was Kurosawa's first big international hit, from then on his films would be avidly watched and (usually) feted as Art. His style was always so breathtakingly simple that you can't help but get sucked into the rainy and sunny bestial world depicted in here, with a beautiful use of the black and white nitrate film stock contrasting against a sordid storyline. I've probably seen it 10 times now over the decades and it seems to get better every time I settle down to it - it's been a continual treat.

A horror story from a few days previous is recounted on a ferociously wet day: beautiful woman is (apparently) raped by animalistic bandit in front of her husband who is then (apparently) murdered. But who really did what to who and why? It's told from four viewpoints: the bandit's, the honourable woman's, the heroic dead husband's via a rather startling medium and lastly a breathless version from a timid eye-witness. The event becomes a crime scene with the beauty of forest surrounding us and splintered sunlight beaming down on us through the trees bearing mute witness to the savage few moments. It's a salutary lesson in Human Beings vs Objectivity; the psychologies of the main protagonists are laid bare, as well as the story-tellers, even to Kurosawa and the viewers themselves. Who's telling the truth/ was it a mixture of all versions/ was there another truth untold? Only you can decide!

I urge all innocent bystanders who have a problem with b&w non-HD 4:3 subtitled Japanese films from 1950 to try to get over it! Because it's a riveting journey, expertly handled by probably the best film director who's ever lived, all subjective of course.

Creative narrative idea but didn't enjoy it at all. At the end i get the whole picture.. and how every single witness chose to tell the story focusing on his own pride m.. everyone is selfish and truth is portrayed differently according to "self interest"

The structure of the narrative/story is so unique and deep. But unfortunately i didn't enjoy it at all.

The acting was so silly, the duels were sillier and the pacing was slow!

It was very slow paced with shots that take minutes with just staring and nothingness.

The idea is unique yes, but to have to watch the same setting over and over again with subpar dialogue and plot is unbearable for me! Very tedious

Even though i like Mifune a lot, it's just frustrating watching him this time. The laughter and being silly all of that didn't feel it in this movie. Especially being a bandit and "killer". Very silly! Just the wild facial expressions, and exaggerated laughter. Also his strange body movements felt theatrical and unrealistic.

All characters felt unreal to be honest! Really felt detached to all of them especially with the unrealistic emotions from everybody.

Also, the ending.. Why make me suffer watching the perspective of 4 people of the same crime and not giving me an answer or a proper ending.. the ending shifted the focus from the trial (which we watched endlessly the whole movie) to the 3 other guys and the baby!!

Zero effect on my soul/emotions.

It's a short movie about 88 minutes but the slow pacing and the repetitive structure made it feel like 4 hours.

Didn't enjoy it.. I like the idea tho.

Kurosawa tells a story four times through different characters. The characters tell the story different four times. In flash-backs, all as the characters tell them, we see the stories. Are they lying, are they all telling their own truth or is there someone who tells THE truth? The way this is handled by Kurosawa is absolutely masterful.

Of course, his direction is great. Together with cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa they do a tremendous job with the atmosphere in the woods. With perfect light angles it looks beautiful.

A real Japanese classic.

"Well, men are only men. That's why they lie. They can't tell the truth, even to themselves."

Rashomon was the first film from critically acclaimed Japanese director, Akira Kurosawa, that I got to see. I was expecting some great things from this film considering it ranks among the best films in history. The black and white cinematography was breathtaking and there were some great long shots, but the story fell flat and the performances here were a bit theatrical for my taste. The film is only 85 minutes long, but it seemed to drag forever. The film was made in 1950 so I can imagine there were several inventive elements incorporated here, but they really don't stand out today because we've seen those tricks so many times now. For example, it is claimed that this was the first time that a camera was pointed directly at the sun, but of course that doesn't have an effect on the viewer today. However, I've seen many other classic films which I thought still managed to seduce me and have timed really well, but it wasn't the case with Rashomon. The film focuses on different realities and perceptions about humanity, but in doing so it really never manages to find a deep meaning. It focuses on the lies we tell, our selfish desires, and our pursuit or need to believe in the goodness of humanity (reflected through the Priest in this film), but ultimately it plays down to discovering that sometimes reality is just a matter of perception and differing point of views. "Rashomon is a reflection of life, and life does not always have clear meaning," is what Kurosawa would say about this film when approached about its meaning. What I can say about Rashomon is that the cinematography is great and the lighting effects were also astonishing for its time.

The film takes place during a heavy rain storm (classic trade mark from Kurosawa) as a priest (Minoru Chiaki) and a woodcutter (Takashi Shimura) are taking refuge from the rain and talking about a terrible crime that has been committed. A peasant (Kichijiro Ueda) who is unfamiliar with what they are talking about joins the conversation and the two men recount the events of what they consider the most horrific crime they have experienced. The woodcutter happened to discover the body of a samurai three days ago as he walked across the woods and was summoned to testify at a trial for the samurai's murder. The priest also has to testify since he had run into the samurai (Machiko Kyo) and his wife (Masayuki Mori) as they were passing through the town before the murder took place. The woodcutter and the priest then recount what they heard from the three direct witnesses of the murder: the suspected bandit Tajomaru (Toshiro Mifune) who apparently raped the wife and killed the samurai, the wife, and the samurai himself who testifies through a medium. They all give different accounts of what took place, and each account is as unreasonable as the next. The story is told in the form of flashbacks through the perception of each witness.

The main issue I had with the film is that the horrendous crime never felt like it was that terrible or memorable to begin with. It was just a common crime, a terrible one, but nothing to have an existential or philosophical debate about. Besides the main concern they had wasn't because a murder was committed but rather that everyone seemed to be lying about what happened. They couldn't find a reasonable explanation for an unreasonable act. The flashbacks were sort of interesting despite me not liking the performances, and I really liked the fighting choreography staged near the end between the bandit and the samurai. It was nothing you would expect from a Japanese samurai film. That was probably my favorite scene in this film and it had some funny moments as well. I can see the influence the director has had in modern films like Vantage Point or The Usual Suspects, but despite that I had a difficult time carrying about this movie. Well I guess I'm on the minority here, but Kurosawa would have to accept my opinion and the perception I had of this film because that is what this film is really about: differing perceptions of what we believe to be real.

Kurosawa's magic film is a composite of 2 Japanese short stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa: One, "Rashomon," the title tells of a confrontation of a young man at Rashomon, the large, fortified gate at one entrance to Kyoto where people would abandon children and corpses; the other, yabu no naka ni, "In a Grove," tells of the confrontation between the bandit, the samurai and his wife, told from the point of view of the woodcutter. In 1950, Kurosawa weaves this tale of human vanity and duplicity with the young Toshiro Mifune, as the bandit, Machiko Kyo as the lady and Masayuki Mori as the samurai. The tale unfolds through the flashbacks in the narration of the great Takashi Shimura as the woodcutter, supported by character actors Minoru Chiaki as the monk and Kichijiro Ueda as the bum. Basically, with a cast of six and the stark settings of a woods and a dilapidated castle gate in pouring rain, Kurosawa the magician gives us four views of human vanity, excessive pride and cultural conflict. The foibles of human needs are exposed but redeemed in the final scene where the basic act of kindness brings closure to the bizarre display of greed, lust and mendacity that has gone before. For a Kurosawa film, this one is short, to the point with an economy of emoting-- for which Mifune was never accused of under doing and the viewer is left somewhat exhausted by all the twists and turns, confused by the mix of contradictions and seeming paradox, but satisfied with a feeling of hope.

"Rashomon" is a classic whodunnit murder mystery, but with a major twist. You know that old board game Clue? Imagine playing that game with your friends but with trick cards, loaded dice, and everyone's allowed, if not obligated, to cheat. Got it? Solve the mystery!

Eventually the result would likely be all of you sitting around, sullen, confused & frustrated with each of you taking turns muttering, "I just don't understand!" And that is exactly how the opening scene of "Rashomon" begins.

Two depressed looking men are sitting in the ruins of an old building beneath a sign that reads "Rashomon". They are waiting for a torrential storm to pass. A third man joins them also seeking shelter and asks them why the long faces. That's your cue to strap on your seatbelt because after that, all bets are off in the ways of truth, perception and storytelling. The two men tell the tale, as they had heard through witnesses' testimonies it in court, regarding a dead man, his wife, and the bandit accused of the murder. The twist is that each testimony drastically contradicts each of the others. And as the story is visually played out for us in each version, we suddenly realize how subjective "truth" is.

The effect is poetic and powerful. As Robert Altman (director of MASH, Shortcuts, Gosford Park) commented:

"When one sees a film, you see the characters on screen; it's not like reading where you imagine certain things. You see very specific things. You see a tree, you see a sword. So you take that as truth. But in this film, you take it as truth, and then you find out that it is not necessarily true. And you see various versions of the episode that has taken place, and you're never told which is true and which isn't true ... So it becomes a poem, and it cracks this visual thing that we have in our minds that if we see it, it must be a fact."

Augmented by Kurosawa's brilliant directing, Miyagawa's excellent camera work, and the symbolic majesty of the forest of Nara which constantly presents a very Monet-like, impressionistic veil of leaves and shadows throughout the film, "Rashomon" is so much more than a whodunnit. It's the greatest of them all, leading us the viewers deeper and deeper into the psychological and metaphysical thicket, until ultimately we may end up feeling like one of the characters in the movie who laments: "I don't even know my own soul."

This is the first Kurosawa film that really punctured the Amero-centric film bubble, that left Hollywood the near sole producer of films after their nearest competition, Germany, lost their best directors due to Anti-Semitic pogroms. Thankfully, there is no pandering to try and imitate such a film, there are no musical numbers, not much action of any kind, and characters that aren't the nicest of people.

The story starts in the rain, as a group of people huddle around under an abandoned building to avoid it. From there, the common man is told by a woodcutter about a rape and murder in the woods, as well as a depressed monk who is losing his faith in the human species. From there, we are told multiple differing stories from multiple perspectives about what happened, and all of them vehemently contradict each-other. All of them cast a mystery that gives the viewer nothing to go on but their words.

What makes it work is that all of the stories, though self-pitying, all feel like they could have happened. There is no favouritism between the three parties, and all are giving 100% believable performance when they retell their stories, including minor pieces of exposition which lend credence to their tales yet further.

We are consistently cutting back to the commoner who's actually pretty funny and worldly, who offers a simple, unpretentious counter to the more philosophical world-view that Kurosawa is trying to explore. His crudeness is even somewhat likable. His attempts to try and rationalise the stories are magnificent in their roughness. There is further character development between the monk and woodcutter, both of whom have character arcs in their own right. Both stories, that of the 3 under the building, and the rape and murder, are excellent in their own right, but once combined, we can even then see parallels between them, and that shifts the film into masterpiece territory, without being a completely inaccessible puddle of pretentious cinema. This is a film a 12 year old who likes Transformers can watch as well as some 50 year old Swedish artisan.

One really gets a sense of the desperation eating at men's souls, including in all the murder scenes, and the sniping between the nihilist commoner and the (clinging) spiritual monk. There is a sense of underlying nastiness at the heart of everyone, but likewise a sense of potential redemption, though it most certainly doesn't completely conquer all that is wrong. Rashomon leaves us with an honest portrayal of the human species that doesn't leave us completely hopeless, nor wilfully ignorant.

It leaves us with hope, and hope can only exist in fear.

I saw Rashomon for the first time last Sunday, on Father's day; it was a good day to watch this film. The movie centers on the interpretation of a murder laced with a rape, so most of it is a dialog among three men: a woodcutter who is a witness to the crime, a monk, and a vagabond. The dialog occurs in the remains of a temple while a heavy rain falls outside. The theme of the dialog revolves around a samurai, his wife and a bandit.

The bandit sees the samurai and his wife traveling through the forest, catches a glimpse of the woman's face when the breeze opens her veil, and discovers that an impetuous desire to have that woman has taken possession of his will. He catches up with the couple and through trickery ties the samurai to a tree. He then rapes the wife. So far the story is unique.

The samurai dies. The woodcutter encounters his remains and reports the crime to the police. The bandit is captured and tells the jury a story of the crime. The wife tells a different story. A medium is brought up and through the medium the samurai tells a different story. And finally the woodcutter tells yet another story. There is some amazing dialog between the samurai and his wife about honor, love, and dignity. Betrayal surfaces when it is convenient to betray.

While the woodcutter narrates the events to his friends, the vagabond lights a bonfire with pieces of wood he tears from the ruinous construction. The woodcutter is interrupted occasionally by his friends. The camera work in the temple is unremarkable, with plenty of close-ups of the aging and rough men. Same goes for the scenes at the courtroom. One strange point here is that we never see any magistrate. We learn about the questions because the witness repeats them. It is like the movie about the Prophet, where the camera never shows the Prophet himself.

The forest scenes are much better. Since the crime is narrated four times, there is plenty of action in the forest as the samurai and the bandit fight each other.

After the woodcutter finishes narrating the four different versions of the crime, including his, they hear a baby crying in a room of the temple. They find a little child wrapped in a kimono. The vagabond grabs the kimono. Despite the woodcutter's protest that the kimono had an amulet most likely left by the parents to protect the baby, the vagabond makes a bundle with the kimono and leaves the temple, as the rain ceases, disappearing down the same path where he first appeared.

The monk cuddles the baby but the woodcutter asks to have the baby. The monk refuses, with indignation in his eyes. Then the woodcutter explains that he already has six children and that one more would not be much trouble. The monk hears him, and with a smile on his faces hands over the baby. The movie ends. Until then, there has not been a single instance of brotherhood in the entire movie. Until then the emotions have been on the sordid side of the human scenario: lust, envy, betrayal, deceit, murder, rape, fights, and lies.

Some critics have commented that the ending is a license with sentimentality that Kurosawa allowed himself. To me, the ending is the movie. In the film, we are taken on a long trip throughout the wasteland of human feelings. Human greed and mistrust distort the truth and create confusion. From the affairs of adults emanates a toxic mist of confusion. People mistrust one another. Is there any hope? At the end, Kurosawa shows us the hope, the reason that makes one man trust another man: a future life. The human adventure is an adventure of hope.

The same message is found in Sondheim and Lapine's musical Into the Woods. A marvelous musical mixing half a dozen fables that end up very happily like fables use to end. The difference is that at this stage the musical is only half way through. The other half reverses the fortunes of all players when the giant comes to town seeking revenge. Here once more all the nasty feelings seep out of the human soul. At the end, it is a little child who brings the survivors together. They decide to unite to care for the baby.

So, on Father's day, with my daughter Laura I watched this great film.

A couple travelling through a forest encounter a man, who sexually assaults her, and kills the husband, a samurai.

If I'm totally honest, Rashomon isn't one or my favourite Kurasawa films, not for any bad reason at all, it's very good, I just think the bar would be set incredibly high with some of his later.offerings.

It is a very watchable film, and time has been particularly good to it, for me, it's just a little too heavy at times, and the story, I think he devised many better ones.

I think the attack sequences would have been harrowing for many 1950's audiences.

The production values are exquisite, even now this film looks terrific, the camera work is so impressive, nice shots and angles, various different types of focus also, it is so visually appealing, and that rain looked real to me.

7/10.

I know this is seen as a masterpiece, but I don't understand the appeal of this movie. It has a nice story with interesting philosophical ideas, but I feel that the movie can be cut a lot. The same concept could be shown in 40 - 60 mins instead of a 90 minute movie. It feels to drawn out for the amount of substance it has, which bores me. Maybe this was the peak of cinema at the time, but it doesn't hold up by today's standards.