Toshiro Mifune | First Impressions

I’d only really been familiar with Kurosawa’s famous samurai films. The post-war noirs in the BFI’s box set have been a discovery: the more I see of them the more my admiration for Kurosawa as a filmmaker grows.

STRAY DOG is a re-teaming of Toshiro Mifune and Takashi Shimura from DRUNKEN ANGEL (1948). Mifune plays a young cop whose knapsack gets stolen on the bus. Inside it is a Colt revolver with seven bullets. It’s now being used to kill innocents. How many will have to die before the weapon is recovered? Will the cop survive his guilt?

Kurosawa is a master of conveying the elements themselves. Here it’s the heat and humidity of a Tokyo Summer, exacerbated by having a killer on the loose. People perspire, wipe their faces, sigh with tiredness (see the gorgeous montage below).

As the two investigators move from suspect to suspect, we get a panorama of post-war Tokyo society, all the low-lifes, criminals, prostitutes, dancers’ all with lives that exceed the activity or profession society defines them for; poor people without space; professionals on low incomes and their way of life, a rich lady who shuts her window to a crimes she’s witnessing before returning to her piano, a young dancer for whom a dress has become a symbol for a different kind of life, wished for but forever out of reach. In fact the killer ends up being someone not unlike the young inspector, a war vet whose also had his knapsack stolen, as a result left desperate and derelict, who ends up making bad choices.

The last chase scene is exciting, beautiful and expressive. Both men now handcuffed together, occupying the lower third of the frame, as young innocent children walk in the background at the top of the frame singing, and then the thief begins to weep at the choices he’s made. It’s gorgeous and moving (see clip below), as is the whole of the film. I’ve included frame grabs from some of the compositions to illustrate the variety, originality and expressiveness of Kurosawa’s compositions, which continue to astonish me.

The incredible extended montage from the beginning.

The moving and beautiful final chase scene (above)

Examples of the compositions (below)

José Arroyo

The kind of movie Quentin Tarantino likes: lots of action, excitingly filmed, with characters that are all attitude and swagger, visual sweep, dead-pan tough-guy humour and not much substance. This one is sumptuously mounted and directed by Terence Young, fresh of his recent successes with Bond (Dr. No, From Russia With Love, Thunderball) and others (Wait Until Dark), to take advantage of its sometimes snowy, mountainous Spanish locations. One of the ways you can tell it was filmed in Spain is that when the characters are eating you find the traditional bread, lemns and a big serrano ham on the table. The great Henri Alekan makes the most of the stars, the locations and the light: it looks gorgeous throughout. The director and cinematographer combine to incite real visual pleasure in the light, the mountains, the way the horses move in the landscape, a great shoot-out near the end filmed through reeds. Charles Bronson had not yet headlined and American production. But this is one of a series of films that would make him into an international box-office star without yet having made a dent at the US box office; something akin to what happened with Clint Eastwood a little bit earlier, and Bronson, approaching 50 was much older. This film is clearly indebted to Leone’s Westerns in various ways, particularly in Maurice Jarre’s attempt at personalising a Morricone style in the score. It’s great to see Alain Delon as a villain—a rare treat — all in black, with a silver tooth, much attitude and no scruples. Ursula Andress is the prostitute who loves him. Capucine is very charismatic as a Madam. Toshiro Mifune is one of the last of the Samurais who uneasily teams up with Bronson to return a sword intended as a gift from the Japanese emperor to the President of the United States in order to save the honour of Japan (and the Ambassador’s and the Samurai’s). Bronson only wants the money. There are many things to admire in this film: it moves beautifully, looks smashing, and is exciting to watch. It’s also one of those films in which every woman is either a prostitute or an innocent about to be raped; Mexicans are all victims; Comanches unknowable but for their violence and brutality. A blu-ray that looks terrific but with sound levels bouncing all over the place is still available; an indication that whatever its ultimate merits, the film has become a landmark or classic of some kind.