After years of sitting on my bony duff, picking my nose and not watching Akira Kurosawa’s  The Hidden Fortress I decided it was high time I finally watched Akira Kurosawa’s The Hidden Fortress whilst continuing to sit on my aforementioned bony duff with my finger still firmly jammed three knuckles deep into what over the years has become my favorite picking nostril, the right one. Why is this something that I make it sound like should have happened a long time ago? Two reasons:

1) Kurosawa is supposed to be some big shot, cracker jack, A-1 director whose work I’m a bit embarrassed about not being at all familiar with aside from that one time I sat through most of Seven Samurai’s 14 hours, only to fall asleep in the last ten minutes, therefore missing what the big deal about “Rosebud” was*

2) George Lucas cites it as a bit of an influence. Not so much on Howard the Duck, but kinda-sorta on Star Wars

Truth be told it took me two tries to watch the movie, though not at all because I didn’t like it. I really, really enjoyed it, but the first time I was bogged down by being a bit too tired and a bit too hung up on the Star Wars connection. Plus I fell asleep like halfway through it. But the second time, man, the second time I made it start to finish, just like a big boy! Score one for bucking the trend of a society whose attention span can hardly sustain it through an iPod commercial, nevermind a two and a half hour, black and white Japanese period piece from fifty years ago!

Anyway! The movie was surprisingly funny. As I said, I really don’t know anything about Kurosawa aside from his reputation and that one time I saw (almost all of) Seven Samurai. While I do remember some occasional lighter moments from Seven Samurai, the peasants were quite funny at the fittingly unfitted participants of two warring, medieval Japanese clans. It was also a wonderful film visually and having seen it I can now identify its influence on Star Wars first hand as opposed to taking the internet’s word for it. It also needs to be said that Toshiro Mifune’s spear duel was pretty badass, especially given how goofy spears are when compared to samurai swords.

So how about the Star Wars connections? They’re everywhere. I already mentioned that visually Lucas lifted some neato tricks from it–a lot of far away shots of characters with their surroundings in full view then bringing it up close while things happen around them. A lot of those shots made me think of the droids’ arrival on Tatooine, particularly Artoo making his way through the canyon and Threepio waving down the Sandcrawler, which is hardly a coincidence since the droids are very much based off of the peasants Tahei and Matashichi. In a featurette on the DVD, Lucas discusses how he liked the the way Kurosawa showed the story of a war through the eyes of the two lowest characters on the totem pole, an explanation towards the prominent roles he gave the droids play in the Saga.

There are various other references, namely a princess trying to get through enemy lines with something important while being aided by an older general. In Hidden Fortress the princess and a samurai are trying to smuggle gold over the border to rebuild her clan. You can probably figure out where to swap in Jedi, Death Star plans and aid a rebellion for freedom in that sentence.

Above all else, the most obvious element Lucas borrowed here is the scene fade. Anyone familiar with Star Wars can see it right away. The first time a scene changed with the assistance of a slow moving, right to left fade I totally LOL’d. By the tenth time I was at least thankful that, over the course of six movies, George decided to mix it up and go left to right, top to bottom and occasional rock the diagonal.

So yes, better late than never on this one. As I said, I really liked it, but to be honest there’s probably nothing I can really say about it that a lot of other people haven’t already said a lot better than I can. As a raging fanboy it was particularly awesome to watch, to sort of see what George Lucas was seeing while Star Wars was still in it’s infancy.

Word,

Tony

*I’m totally kidding

English title:  Throne of Blood

I’m not a Shakespeare scholar, but I know what I likes, and of his plays, I like MacBeth best. and of the film versions of MacBeth, I like Kumonosu-Jou best.  it is a fantastic movie that rates among Kurosawa’s best

Throne of blood poster 3

Throne_of_Blood_poster

Throne_of_blood_2

set in medieval Japan, filmed in b&w, and with fog everywhere, Kumonosu-Jou begins with the two feudal lords, Taketori Washizu (Toshirô Mifune) and Yoshiaki Miki (Minoru Chiaki) encounter a ghostly witch in the foggy forest. she makes future predictions for both.  upon arriving at Spider Castle, Washizu tells his wife, the Lady Asaji Washizu ( Isuzu Yamada), of what the witch predicted, and she encourages him to make it happen.

the best of the movie is the Lady Washizu.  it takes a lot to outact Toshirô Mifune, but Yamada does it. and how. her figure is overwhelming and her presence is everywhere. she drives the action in a way that Shakespeare’s Lady Macbeth could only hint at.

from a serene, calculating, planning

Lady washizu

to a desperate wreck

Out damned spot!

his fate is not any better

Arrows

clips

original trailer:

Throne Of Blood – Original Trailer 1957

short trailer with voiceover:

Throne Of Blood trailer

the entire movie is available at video.google.  no subtitles.

Nablopomo 2009 badge

If you are near the Washington DC area, go to the Landmark E Street Cinema (555 11th St NW Washington, DC 20004-1300). Akira Kurosawa’s masterpiece, Rashomon, will be playing this weekend. It is one of the greatest movies ever made and it has influenced countless films. No movie playing right now will be a better experience. I guarantee it.

Finally I was able to lay my hands on the DVD of Rashomon in local DVD shop and I purchased it without any hesitation. I had heard and read so much about this famous film by the Japanese director Akira Kurosawa that I was dying to see it for more than a decade. Rashomon is considered as one of Kurosawa’s masterpieces. The black and white film made in 1950 is based on two short stories by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa – “In a Grove” (for the story line) and “Rashōmon” (for the setting). There are many web-sites, including Wikipedia, that give the complete story of the film. So I am not going to repeat the details here.

Very briefly, the central tale tells of the rape of a woman and the murder of her man – a samurai, possibly by a bandit. The story is told by four different narrators, witnesses of and/or participants in the event, as perceived by them. The film unfold the same sequence of events through the perspectives of these four people involved – the bandit, the raped woman, the spirit of the murdered samurai and a wood-cutter who is witness to the entire episode.

In each of the four versions of the story, the characters are the same, as are many of the details. But much is different, as well. In the first account, that of the bandit, the criminal accepts culpability for the murder but refutes the charge of rape, saying that it was an act of mutual consent. The woman’s story affirms that the bandit attacked her, but indicates that she herself may have been the murderess. The dead man’s tale, told through a medium, claims rape and suicide – hara-kiri – by samurai. The medium mentions that he felt ’someone’ draw from his chest the dagger with which he alleges he committed hara-kiri. The only “impartial” witness, the woodcutter, weaves a story that intertwines elements of the other three, but indicating that the bandit killed the samurai. But a commoner puts two and two together and figures out that the woodcutter, too, is a thief and has stolen the dagger used in the murder of the samurai and thus questions the authenticity of woodcutter’s version.

When the movie ends, the viewer is left with four versions told by four intimately involved persons and no conclusion. Whose account of the crime is reliable? One cannot tell. All are distorted in ways that flatter the narrator. The ego and vanity of characters make truth a difficult thing to find.

Indeed a very powerful story directed by a renowned director way back in 1950. All the reviews talked of great performances and great direction and great settings. My expectations were sky-high before I started watching the movie. It is a simple short 90 minute film. To be honest, I started getting disillusioned as the movie progressed. I found the movie shot and acted in more theatrical way than cinematic. The performances of the actors were not as great as said by many critics. The sets were minimalistic – there are only three settings in the film: Rashōmon gate, the woods and the courtyard. The sound and background music, again, very minimalistic – theatre like, and did not really add much value to the film.  As soon as the film got over, I switched off the TV and went to bed, ready to forget the film and laughing at myself for spending my time and money on a movie which now I considered unnecessarily hyped about.

But as I was trying to sleep, I kept on recollecting the four narrations and reason out the reality. Every time I came close to some conclusion one “fact” or the other recounted by one of the narrators pushed me back to square one. A month has passed since I watched the film, yet I have not reached a logical conclusion. The film still refuses to leave my mind and I keep on recounting all the 90 minutes of the film again and again.

My disappointment about this film is now slowly vanishing. I realize that the success of this film is not in the way it is filmed or acted, but in the way it keeps growing on you. No other film has lingered in my mind with all its details so fresh for so long. I attribute that success, first, to the powerful storyline by Akutagawa, and then to Akira Kurosawa for picturizing the film without deviating from the central theme and not just retaining but visually enhancing the substance of the storyline.

Does the film end without a conclusion, as described by many critics?  Not really. All parts of the film, the four versions, reach their own conclusions. The four versions do not tally with each other. No doubts there, too. But that is not the point. The real conclusion, not stated in obvious manner but unfolds visually – the Kurosawa touch – is the fact Human beings are unable to be honest with themselves about themselves. They cannot talk about themselves without embellishing, as observed by Kurosawa in his autobiography.

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(Photocredits: Internet)

Do yourself a favor and pick up this box set.  Akira Kurosawa is one of the greatest movie directors ever and is influence on cinema worldwide is tremendous.  AK 100 is available  and features 25 of his movies.  Thy also sells all of his movies individually if the price tag is throwing you off.  From Seven Samurai to Hidden Fortress you can’t go wrong.

AK 100 is available now for $299 and features 25 of his movies.

http://www.criterion.com/boxsets/678

The girls of Paran Maum

I finally got around to rewatching Linda Linda Linda last week, a Japanese movie released in 2005 I saw for the first time last summer after several people told me “you gotta check it out, you’ll love it, it’s totally your kind of movie.” And it really is. In fact, it might be your kind of movie too (especially if you’re my friend Caitlin, and I’ve been meaning to watch this movie with you for over a year). A touching, feel-good movie about a group of teenage girls putting a band together for a school festival? It’s pretty much a crowd-pleaser, especially for feminist music geeks who like movies.

The plot is as follows: guitarist Kei Tachibana (Yuu Kashii), drummer Kyoko Yamada (Aki Maeda), and bassist Nozomi Shirakawa (Shiori Sekine of Base Ball Bear) have a band and are playing Hiiragi-sai, their school’s annual festival. They’ve got a great set list of covers from The Blue Hearts, a popular Japanese rock band. Problem is, their singer-guitarist has quit the band, leaving them down a frontwoman days before their gig. They need a replacement and are adamant about it being a girl. They decide on Son (Bae Doona), a shy exchange student from South Korea whose Japanese is shaky and has never sung in front of an audience before. They rise to the occasion, with a little bit of struggle and growing along the way. Might sound like familiar territory, but it’s totally delightful.

One thing I really enjoy about this movie is how rehearsal is central to the girls’ interactions. For one, the time and effort they spend in practive, is critical in any band learning how to play together and key to their homosocial interactions. While some movies might document a band’s progression in one “rockin’” montage, this movie devotes several scenes to the band’s improvement, as well as the frustrations and tensions that result from feeling like they’re not getting their sound right. In their first rehearsal, they muddle their way through The Blue Heart’s hit “Linda Linda,” only to giggle at how horrible it was before trying again. Later, we find the girls forced to practice quietly at Kei’s ex-boyfriend’s studio space well into the night.

I also enjoy their commitment to the band. While the girls do have ex-boyfriends and crushes, they choose to balance boys with other issues their band usually comes first. In a key scene, Son is asked out by a male classmate named Mackey at school. The rest of the girls look through the window of an abandoned classroom, watching their lead singer choose the band, and her friends, over some guy who happens to like her but that she doesn’t know.

Sometimes the band wears on the girls, and the movie reaches a climax when the girls have worked so hard that they collapse after an all-night practice that makes them late to their gig. Their ambitions sometimes eclipse reality, as is clearly evident with Kei dreams about opening for The Ramones while sleeping through much of the festival. Yet, their drive still gets them to the gig, with their talent ultimately ensuring a rousing success at the festival and the promise of this new band.

Kei Tachibana, future seasoned professional; image courtesy of cinemastrikesback.com

I do find the girls’ fandom of The Blue Hearts, whose songs they cover, to be quite interesting. For one, girls identifying with a fast, hard-rocking all-male rock band, while at no time talking about how cute certain members are, seems to suggest a wider range of possibilities for who can influence a girl. The band even goes so far as to call themselves Paran Maum, which is “blue hearts” in Korean (an indication of Son’s importance to the band). There’s a lot of talk on this blog about the importance of women and girls influencing one another in popular music. However, we shouldn’t short shrift what it means for girls finding their sound and voice through boys and men or ignore the progressive and possibly queer potential in girls identifying with boys. Like Patti Smith, PJ Harvey, and Sleater-Kinney before them, these girls don’t plug in and rock out to be with the band — they are the band and want to thrash just as hard as the boys.

Nozomi, Kyoko, and Kei help Son learn The Blue Hearts; image courtesy of cinemastrikesback.com

And, of course, we cannot ignore the obvious queerness of an all-girl band who work closely together to perform a song clearly written for a girl from a boy and maintaining the boy’s words and intent. It’s where the movie gets its name and the band gets its purpose, after all.

As there are queer dimensions to the girls’ fandom, they also have an interesting relationship with fashion, ethnic identity, and music history, perhaps in some ways analogous to Mitsuko’s relationship to Elvis Presley and rockabilly fashion in Mystery Train. Kyoko rocks a Joan Jett-style mullet and weave punk fashion into their school wardrobe. She also shorten the length of her skirts, sport funky sneakers, and plays with accessories. Son and Nozomi opt out of fashion-plate status, feeling more comfortable in frumpy attire, while Kei prefers a more athletic, clean-cut look. In short, while they’re all required to abide by standardized dress, like many girls, they figure out a way to create and play with looks that better reflect their personality, and some are clearly influenced by rock music in constructing their identity.

Just as Paran Maum are influenced by The Blue Hearts, The Blue Hearts are clearly influenced by The Ramones. I don’t want to suggest that the Japanese cherrypick through relics and artifacts of bygone western pop culture because they are uniformly obsessed with American culture. For one, The Blue Hearts were active and popular in Japan during the late 80s and early 90s, in large part because they were heavily informed by classic British and American punk.

For another, The Ramones themselves had a similar relationship with their own American past, turning to surf rock and girl groups from the 50s and 60s. For them, while most 70s rock bands were trying to set a record for the longest organ solo, rock music needed the return of the three-minute pop song.

In addition, it’s worth pointing out that the movie itself has an interesting relationship with Japanese and American music culture via the presence of former Smashing Pumpkins’ guitarist James Iha, who is Japanese American and composed the movie’s instrumental tracks.

James Iha writes the songs; image courtesy of smashingpumpkins.com

As this movie depicts a band’s need to improvise, make quick decisions, and embrace makeshift situations, encouraging girls to be independent thinkers, so to does it showcase ingenuity. A tremendous example of this for me is Son’s ability to find surprising rehearsal spaces like empty karaoke rooms in order to become more comfortable with her voice and the microphone. In a lesser movie, Son’s scene in the karaoke bar would come off as oppressively quirky. Here, I find it touching. We see a girl negotiating with a male employee over the room and witness her becoming increasingly comfortable, if not still a bit awkward, with her voice, an unfamiliar language, and a developing stage presence. That she’s doing it on her own, in a space she’s found for herself, seems as good an example as any of how girls have to be creative and free-thinking for the assurance of their own maturity.  

Admittedly, I haven’t seen too many Japanese movies and have nothing more than a cursory, Criterion-approved understanding of Asian cinema, along with its influence and heterogenity. One thing that struck me is how much like a Wes Anderson movie Linda Linda Linda felt in terms of its reliance on long tracking shots, wide angles, deadpan humor, panoramic framing, and meditative pacing. That said, I hasten to add that Anderson has stated an indebtedness to the French New Wave and American directors like Hal Ashby, I’m assuming Japanese filmmakers like Akira Kurosawa and Yasujirō Ozu left an impression as well. Having never seen an Ozu movie at the writing of this post (though I do have Good Morning at home), I can’t help but wonder if Linda Linda Linda is actually continuing its nation’s film tradition and that the only folks who’d argue an Andersonian influence are just Western viewers with a shallow scene of cinephilia.

I’m also not entirely clear about the nature of Japanese schools. I came through an underfunded, less-than-superlative Texas public school system. Thus, Paran Maum’s school seems like a tony liberal arts magnate where teenagers are given considerable support and resources for their artistic inclinations, thus implying that the students come from respectable middle- to upper-middle-class families. But I’m not sure if this high school is exceptional in Japan or an indication of the country’s to education and their status as an economic superpower. So while I initially feel the need to mention the classed dimensions of privilege that allow the girls the fine arts education and leisure time to form a band (instead of, say, take jobs or quit school to support their families), I don’t want to suggest that what I see as an American viewer is in accord with Japan’s classed realities.

That said, despite my unfamiliarity with Japanese culture and my clearly raced position as an American white woman, I felt the band’s ambition and spunk tremendously inspiring and universal for anyone wants to see girls tear it up. I rooted for them through their hard times and had a smile on my face when they plugged in and finally let it rip.

Like Kei, I'm really glad Son is in the band; image courtesy of bateszi.animeuknews.net

Personalmente me ha parecido un peliculón, es una de esas peliculas que te corroboran algo que parece que hoy en dia, parece que se le ha olvidado a la mayoría de los directores de cine, ¡que no hace falta inundar una películas con miles de efectos especiales para intentar hacer que sea buena, y el 80 o 90 por cien de las veces no llegan ni a ser buenas.
Los 7 samurais es un peliculón que ha inspirado versiones en todos los ámbitos de la creación, ya sean otras películas, mangas, videoconsola etc, una obra magna de kurosawa que no hay que dejar de ver, muy recomendable.
Ademas en cuanto a la interpretación hay que poner un sobresaliente, los campesinos están simplemente sobervios, las caras de pena, de desolación de desespero… lo bordan, la interpretación de Toshiro Mifune,(Kikuchiyo) es excepcional.
Y como todo film de kurosawa, aderezado con mensaje, el cual dejo que cada cual saque su propia conclusión.

Espero disfruten de la pelicula, un saludo.


Los siete samuráis – (七人の侍 Shichinin no samurai) es una película del director japonés Akira Kurosawa, estrenada en 1954, y que influyó en posteriores producciones occidentales, como el conocido western Los siete magníficos.

Argumento

La acción transcurre en el Japón del siglo XVI. Los habitantes de un poblado de campesinos, hartos de ser periódicamente asaltados por una horda de bandidos, deciden hacer algo al respecto. El miembro más anciano del pueblo sugiere contratar samuráis para que los defiendan. Tras varios intentos fallidos de encontrar samuráis dispuestos a luchar tan solo a cambio de comida, encuentran a uno llamado Kanbei, que decide ayudarles. Gracias a Kanbei, consiguen reunir a un grupo de siete, que defenderán el poblado más por su valentía y ética, que por los dos puñados diarios de arroz que se les ofrecía.

Premios

La película obtuvo dos nominaciones a los Oscar en las categorías de mejor dirección artística, y mejor vestuario.

Adaptaciones

La película de Akira Kurosawa ha tenido varias adaptaciones, algunas mejor recibidas que otras. La primera fue la película Los siete magníficos, rodada en 1960 y protagonizada por Yul Brynner, en la que la acción transcurría en el lejano oeste y los siete samuráis eran sustituidos por siete pistoleros. Bastantes años más tarde, en 1998, se rodó un remake de esta película en formato de serie de televisión con el mismo título, Los siete magníficos. Constaba de 23 episodios de 60 minutos cada uno.

Más recientemente, en 2004, se lanzó en Playstation 2 el videojuego Seven Samurai 20XX, que se inspiraba en la película original, pero situándola en un futuro alternativo.

En el mismo año, se lanzó la última, y mejor criticada, adaptación, titulada Samurai 7, una serie de animación para televisión de 26 capítulos producida por los estudios Gonzo que cuenta la misma historia de la película original pero situándola en una época entre lo futurista y lo tradicional japonés.

En un artículo de Christian Ramírez aparecido en EMOL dice, “A Pixar no le gustan las adaptaciones . Pero cuando las hace, vaya que elige bien los modelos. Al revés que Disney -que busca y busca grandes temas-, la compañía rara vez se entusiasma con historias ajenas. Lo hizo en el 98, cuando tomó prestada la premisa central de Los 7 Samurái de Kurosawa (nada menos), para armar el esqueleto de Bichos.”

Fuente: Wikipedia

Descarga los 7 samurai por japanfull

Protagonistas

Le mieux je pense, en guise d’introduction à L’ange ivre est de lire ce que Kurosawa lui-même disait de son film: “C’est le premier film que j’ai dirigé, libéré de toute contrainte extérieure. Dans ce film, je me suis enfin découvert moi-même. C’était mon film, je le tournais et personne d’autre ne le faisait. C’était en partie dû à Toshiro Mifune. Takashi Shimura jouait le médecin superbement, mais j’ai découvert que je ne pouvais pas contrôler Mifune. Quand je m’en suis rendu compte, je l’ai laissé faire ce qu’il voulait, lui laissant jouer le rôle librement. (…) A la fin, même si le titre fait référence au médecin, c’est de Mifune dont tout le monde se souvient”. C’est peut-être un peu cruel pour Shimura mais en même temps tellement vrai.

Le docteur Sanada (Shimura) exerce son métier dans un des quartiers les plus défavorisés de Tokyo, tout proche d’un cloaque à mi-chemin entre le marécage et la décharge à ciel ouvert. Il soigne les déshérités et doit faire face à un sérieux problème de boisson (d’où le titre, pas besoin de s’étendre là-dessus). Un soir débarque un jeune yakuza du nom de Matsunaga (Mifune) qui vient se faire soigner pour une blessure à la main. Tandis qu’il l’osculte, le docteur lui découvre se qu’il croît être une tuberculose. Mais la maladie n’a pas encore atteint un stade irréversible. Matsunaga peut encore guérir pour peu qu’il le veuille vraiment. Mais le voyou refuse la réalité, par fierté sans doute mais par peur aussi. Une opposition naît entre les deux hommes. Mais elle n’est pas irréversible car malgré les nombreuses bousculades dont est victime le médecin, celui-ci se prend d’affection pour son patient. De son propre aveu, les deux hommes se ressemblent. Petit à petit, Matsunaga se fait plus docile et accepte de se soigner. C’est sans compter la sortie de prison du parrain du quartier.

Premier film complètement assumé par Kurosawa donc, L’ange ivre est également important pour au moins deux autres raisons. Tout d’abord, il s’agit de la première collaboration entre le maître et Mifune, le plus grand acteur japonais (le second étant Shimura), première rencontre qui en appellera d’autres jusqu’en 1965 et sa remarquable prestation dans Barberousse. Mais L’ange ivre c’est aussi la mise en place d’une thématique centrale dans le cinéma de Kurosawa, à savoir le traitement de la pauvreté dans une optique proche de celle du néo-réalisme italien (voir la scène où Shimura engueule les mômes jouant près de la décharge). Film ne manquant pas d’intérêt, cette œuvre de Kurosawa n’a pas encore la force de celles qui viendront la décennie suivante mais à le mérite d’en poser les bases.

“Dreams”
(1990)
A collection of tales based upon the actual dreams of director Akira Kurosawa.

In the fifties, Ed McBain wrote a rather nondescript book, a crime thriller which had all the cliches and ingredients of a potboiler – wooden, flat characters mouthing banalities, the stereotype business tycoon, the tough cop etc. etc. There was, however, a distinct complexity to the plot, which though the author could barely leverage, but which the legendary Japanese director Akira Kurosawa recognized and transformed into a far more potent and profound film. King’s Ransom, the book, became High and Low, the film. But apart from the basic plot, the difference between the quality of the two, if one could reasonably compare the contents of two differing media, is vast.

King (or Kingo, in the film), a shoe company executive, gets a ransom call from a kidnapper for an astronomical sum. But the kidnapper bungles. He mistakenly picks up the chauffeur’s son, the same age as King’s own, and who was dressed in the son’s outfit while playing cops and robbers outside the King mansion at the time of the kidnapping. But the kidnapper is unrelenting, and wants King to pay up all the same. King is aware of the stakes. He has bet his life’s fortunes, including his house, to secure majority stake in the company so he can oust his adversaries and take control, a deal that must be sealed within a few days. Paying the ransom would mean losing the opportunity. Not only that, he’d be thrown out himself, facing obscurity and financial ruin, a fact he tries to desperately make his wife understand. But nothing, to her, is more valuable than a boy’s life.

Kurosawa fully utilized this conflict to create a riveting drama of plot and character. While sticking to the basic premises of the original story, here are some of his master touches that transforms an ordinary book into an extraordinary film:

• Gondo Kingo (King) is torn between the choice of saving a boy’s life or protecting his own (and family’s) interest. If he pays, he is a hero to his wife and the public, but loses everything he has worked his entire life for. Kurosawa adds a human touch to the ruthless tycoon image crated by McBain, when Kingo eventually agrees to pay. Gondo, played convincingly by the redoubtable Toshiro Mifune (Rashomon, Seven Samurai), transcends himself by this heroic act. This is the single most powerful aspect of the film, a dimension that Kurosawa invokes and the book neglects.

• The criminal mind is explored far more thoroughly in the film. It adds a socio psychological aspect to the motive. The original Japanese title of High and Low is “Tengoku to Gigoku”, the literal English for which would be—Heaven and Hell. Heaven is where, at least from the miscreants low lying slum, the rich live in their beautiful villas on a hill, insulated from the sufferings of the world, the atrocities of the weather (the stiflingly humid Yokohama summer in the film or the barren cold of a mid-western autumn in the book).

• Investigation and detection: This is where the book miserably fails and film soars to new heights. From the tracing of telephone calls, the ingenious bullet train sequence where money changes hands (I have a video clip at the end of this piece, that I could not resist adding), to the eventual trail and pursuit, all are brilliantly conjured in the film. The book does little to grab the reader— the thug sort of falling into the hands of the cops in an insipid ending.

The end results underscores the fact that there is little correlation between the quality of a film to its original source. One could make a terrible movie out a literary masterpiece or sculpt a gem out of an inconsequential potboiler.

Now for the bullet train sequence I mentioned earlier, which marks the end of the first phase of the movie with the boy’s safe return. This is followed by the detection and eventual denouement.