RAN Review Pt.3 – Essentially Cinematic Work of Art

Tatsuya Nakadai, Daisuke Ryu in Akira Kurosawa's Ran

RAN Review: Part II

In Ran, Asakazu Nakai, Takao Saito, and Masaharu Ueda's cinematography shows that there's much more to great cinematography than just good scenery. One needs only look at films like Sean Penn’s Into the Wild or Walter Salles’ The Motorcycle Diaries to see that beautiful mountainscapes do not equal great art. Ran's cinematographers, by contrast, show how framing and flattening out imagery with telephoto lenses can render reality into a sort of Japanese flat art depiction of the world.

That also illustrates the superfluity and flat out wrongheadedness of most critical writing on the use of certain types of lenses to get certain effects, whether in Ran or in general. Why? Because the flattening of images (such as in the openings ceremonial scenes in the mountains, especially when the frame is crowded) is not important for how it is achieved, but for what it imparts to the viewer. In these cases, the flattening of images into an almost classical Oriental illustration makes the objects and characters in the frame seem to be closer to each other than they really are in the internal reality of the film’s narrative, which, in turn, makes the scenes seem and feel almost claustrophobic.

As a result, the viewer feels what the characters do emotionally, as they are uneased by the internal circumstances and crowding just as the viewer is uneased by the external composition onscreen. Thus, we're able to understand the on-screen aggression viscerally, cued by what amounts to visual testosterone. (Think of the effect crowding has on male interactions at sporting events.) That these effects are achieved via a certain lens or camera technique are far less important than what they impart to the viewer.

That so few critics understand this about art in general, and cinema in particular, is typical of just why so much art and criticism is so bad, repetitive, and dependent upon the seeking out of artistic intent rather than artistic effect. Why? Because intent is rather a simplistic declaration, whereas effect is a multifarious cogitation.

There are also several jump-cuts in Ran that depict emotional fragility of characters and moments. These are employed so well that one often does not notice them, except subliminally or upon rewatch. The score by Toru Takemitsu has an otherworldly feel that really meshes beautifully with the images. It also is obviously influenced — at least emotionally — by Jerry Goldsmith’s landmark score for Planet of the Apes.

Ran is a great example of a work of art that is essentially cinematic. The totality of the work could simply not be represented in any other form of drama. Its visual elements are essential — something that no bit of epopee, painting, or even a novel could replicate.

It's mainly the film's lack of a higher meaning that dooms it from the greatness found in some of the earlier Kurosawa films. Also, Ran suffers from a bit of predictability; not only to anyone who knows King Lear, but in the same manner as The Godfather Part III. When one understands that Hidetora is more of a Mob chieftain than a king, it becomes apparent that with each betrayal by his two oldest sons he, like Michael Corleone, senses that "Just when I thought I was out … they pull me back in."

But as a motto for the works of Kurosawa, is such a pull a bad thing? I think not. Oftentimes, when an artist has been as consistently great as Kurosawa, his bar is set so high in expectation of great things that when one gets merely terrific stuff from him, well, it seems wanting. Ran is a film that falls just shy of Kurosawa’s greatest works, but stands leagues above the vast majority of films we all watch. If that praise seems faint, then catch it when it falls onto you.

© Dan Schneider

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of Mr. Schneider, and they may not reflect the views of Alt Film Guide. A version of this Ran review was initially posted in January 2010.

Photos: Winstar Cinema