Retro Review #1: Seven Samurai (1954)
Now in 4K, Kurosawa's masterpiece officially has as many decades under its belt as it does samurai.
Since the moment nearly two decades ago, that I, as a teenager and aspiring cinephile, plucked the two-cassette VHS box from the dusty shelves of my local library, “Seven Samurai” has always held a special place in my heart. It cast a spell on me that transcended my childhood aversion to black-and-white films, particularly ones with subtitles and a runtime of over 3 hours. I’ve long since expanded my horizons over the years, but Akira Kurosawa’s masterpiece continues to occupy my mind and inspire my creativity in a way that few other films ever have. With a 4K restoration now upon us, I quickly seized the opportunity to finally see it on the big screen. Needless to say, it was well worth the wait.
It’s no revelation to say that “Seven Samurai” is one of the most esteemed, influential and well-known movies of all time. While many classics age into relics of a certain time that are easier to appreciate than they are to sit back and enjoy, this one remains the platonic ideal of a crowd-pleasing adventure, serving as a template for epic adventure films that followed, ranging from “Marvel’s The Avengers” to “A Bug's Life” (seriously, look into it).
Oddly, though, its universally acknowledged greatness and reputation as a film school staple seem to almost undercut its current relevance among waves of recent moviegoers. Decades of praise for its impact on the medium have made it a recognizable name, sure, but it doesn’t seem to entice newcomers to dig much further than accepting the fundamental craft on display. Underneath the broad strokes, however, Kurosawa provides layers to peel back, revealing a depth so seamlessly woven into a straightforward narrative, that it makes for a far more engrossing experience than your everyday action blockbuster. This subtle mastery not only makes “Seven Samurai” the most rewatchable three-and-a-half-hour movie ever made, but it also makes it, dare I say, a little underrated.
In case the prolific classic is still somehow on your “need to watch” list (zero to minimal judgment here), the story is simple. In 16th century Japan, a small farming village in the mountains is extorted by a gang of bandits for their crops in exchange for the bandits postponing a massacre of the village. Things grow desperate, however, when the farmers begin to run out of food for themselves, coming to the conclusion that they must enlist help to confront the bandits. With little to offer in the way of money or clout, a few villagers set out to find reinforcements, eventually returning with, you guessed it, seven samurai to protect the village and put an end to the bandit threat once and for all.
Despite its initial simplicity, events in the story unfold in a calculated manner, each sequence in direct conversation with the last. Every story beat, character moment, and action set piece arrives just when the plot needs it to either raise tension, add levity or provide insight into the rich world Kurosawa so painstakingly constructs for his audience. His knack for proper pacing is unmatched throughout his entire career, but it might be best on display here. Even the dialogue-heavy and meditative stretches of the film have a lyrical quality that makes them soar from scene to scene, never losing momentum between the bombastic battle sequences.
In addition to the pacing, the intimidating length of “Seven Samurai” is made even more digestible thanks to a natural intermission point. The film is split up neatly into two parts, with the first half establishing the stakes and introducing us to the titular samurai, and the second half gradually raising said stakes, all building to the climactic showdown with the bandits. Were this almost any other director, the “good stuff” would likely be in the back half of the film. However, through excellent performances and nuanced character dynamics, Kurosawa makes meeting his samurai just as compelling as seeing them in action.
When a few of the key farmer characters set out to find their samurai, we’re treated to an absolute masterclass in character introductions. From samurai leader Kambei (played by the legendary Takashi Shimura) shaving his head to pose as a monk in order to neutralize a hostage situation, to Kyuzo (Seiji Miyaguchi) calmly striking down an angry samurai in front of a crowd, each character clearly announces who they are to the audience within just a few minutes of screentime. Especially in light of today’s storytelling tendencies, it’s refreshing to see a lack of convoluted backstories working overtime to invest us in the characters. Here, we see exactly who they are through their actions, and we root for them.
Of course, it’s impossible to discuss the cast of characters without mentioning Kikuchiyo, ostensibly the final samurai to join the cause and vibrantly portrayed by the larger-than-life Toshiro Mifune. While the other samurai maintain a calm or stoic demeanor, more traditional of a typical samurai, Mifune’s warrior spends much of the film’s runtime pacing and cackling like a feral hyena. His presence walks a fine line between theatrical and broadly comedic that, in other hands, might veer into obnoxious territory. Instead, we’re given one of the most well-realized creations in the filmographies of both Mifune and Kurosawa (which happen to have quite a bit of crossover). Kikuchiyo’s monologue, in which he finally admits to being far from an everyday samurai, stands the test of time as not only one of the film’s highlights, but a microcosm of Kurosawa’s ability to inject unexpected poignancy into otherwise straightforward genre fare.
Once assembled, the interplay between the different samurai, along with their varied perspectives, makes for plenty of fascinating and, in some cases, fairly comedic interactions. For example, the seriousness of Kambei’s fear of once again ending up on the losing side of a conflict contrasts wonderfully with samurai Gorobei (Yoshio Inaba) recruiting Heihachi (Minoru Chiaki), a woodcutter and mediocre swordsman, solely because he finds his showboating antics amusing. Where other films might inadvertently fumble this juggling of tones by undercutting the drama with humor, Kurosawa marries them seamlessly, using this dichotomy to emphasize the idea that the joys of life persevere amid the world’s unavoidable cruelties. It’s a theme that runs through much of Kurosawa’s body of work but takes front and center here. When we see Kikuchiyo crack a smile when he makes the children of the village laugh, or when Katsushiro (Ko Kimura) frolics through a field of flowers, we’re reminded that these men only brandish swords as a means to an end, to fulfill a sense of purpose.
The work Kurosawa puts into investing us in the characters pays off ten-fold when the bandits finally arrive. There’s an immediate sense of urgency as the samurai draw their swords and the farmers, having received a crash course in combat, make formations around the various entrances of the village. The action that follows is fast and brutal. It’s as beautifully rendered as anything else in the film, but the violence depicted, while not necessarily gory, is far more grave than sensational. Bodies are seen hanging off the backs of disoriented horses. Bandits flee until they’re cornered, then stuck with the bamboo spears of vengeful farmers. This gritty realism sets a tone that things could take a turn for the worse at any moment, making each set piece increasingly more intense and exhilarating. This element of suspense is something that’s been missing in many modern action movies, and watching the third act unfold here really reminded me of the power of establishing stakes to tie the drama and character elements to the action.
Despite the preceding three hours of stunning cinematography and thrilling combat, Kurosawa fully outdoes himself in the final battle. The frantic skirmish amid a raging rainstorm is visceral, furiously paced, and easily remains one of the most jaw-dropping action sequences ever put to film. The desperation of the remaining exhausted samurai is palpable, and, as the bodies pile up, the viewer is left wondering until the final moments if our heroes will actually prevail. Eventually, there is a sort of victory but, as Kambei infers before the credits roll, it’s one for the farmers and not for the samurai.
Sitting in the theater, with a crowd of all ages, I could feel a tangible sense of excitement and wonder that managed to capture the attention of everyone in the packed auditorium. This spoke volumes about the film’s lasting appeal given our modern climate of content overload. The comedic beats landed, the emotional moments elicited sniffles from the back row, and nothing, including the film’s age, its length, or that an American audience had to read it all, seemed the hinder their engagement in the experience.
Overall, the sheer power and majesty of “Seven Samurai” has only crystallized since its release less than a decade after the end of World War II. Its themes of honor, class disparity, grief and redemption still resonate deeply in the modern era, communicated beautifully with pitch-perfect performances and revolutionary filmmaking. It’s simultaneously the type of film we remember fondly from years past, as well as one that we’d rush to the theaters to see if it released this summer. As the current landscape of streaming and franchises continues to test my faith in the future of cinema, I’ll always be able to pop in “Seven Samurai”, be it a 4K blu ray or dusty VHS, and know that some filmmaker somewhere is watching it too, and hopefully taking notes.
5 out of 5 stars
SPEECHLESS. you deserve a golden globe for this💕