I’m more than a bit late with this post, but better late than never, right?
So, thanks to a very good friend of mine, one whom I shall forever be indebted to, I was alerted to a retrospective of the late, great, Japanese filmmaker, Akira Kurosawa. The retrospective, Akira Kurosawa: Film Artist, was hosted by the Academy Of Motion Picture Arts And Sciences here in Los Angeles, and it consisted of an exhibition of Kurosawa’s art, personal effects, etc. at the Academy’s main galleries and a series of screenings at their theatres. When I learned of this news, I was floored. I had to be there.
The funny, as in curious, thing was that it was only some months prior that I decided to embark on a Kurosawa retrospective of my own. I’d become dead set on watching as many Kurosawa films as I could get my hands on. I have a habit of doing this, especially with music, I must consume the entire catalogue of an artist’s work. And I must do so in order. I’m obsessed with chronologies in this respect because there’s nothing I love more than seeing something evolve over time, especially an art form. And I suppose I chose Kurosawa because I was already familiar with some of his films and felt like his filmography was something worth diving into. Thankfully, I consumed every bit of his work I could find before I learned of the Academy’s retrospective, it made the experience all the more rich and involved.
So on September 23rd, 2008, I had the great pleasure of enveloping myself in the world of Akira Kurosawa. While I had been to the Academy… before, this was the first time I had ever visited their galleries. It was an amazing experience. There’s just something ineffable about bridging this gap from the cinematic to the physical. All of these things, all of his work, had only ever existed in my mind, and seeing it all in person was… so many things. It was overwhelming at times, definitely surreal, exciting for sure, illuminating… I could go on and on.
I had an experience similar to this when my brother took me to the Los Angeles County Museum Of Art’s exhibition of Buddhist and Hindu iconography. At that time I was well immersed in the world of religious symbology, and had a special interest in Eastern philosophies. So I’d studied this work in the same way that I’ve studied Kurosawa’s work, from afar. Every painting, every sculpture, every piece of embroidery, etc. only existed in my mind. All I ever had were photographs and video. Seeing everything in person was a whole new experience. Something about sharing the same space… I don’t know what it is. But whatever that was, I loved.
To give some perspective, there were two spaces that housed the actual exhibition. The first was in the Academy’s Grand Lobby Gallery which, funny enough, is located in the lobby, on the first floor. This gallery was dedicated entirely to Kurosawa film posters from around the world. I actually didn’t get to see much of this part of the exhibit because a large section of the Grand Lobby was cordoned off for a party that was scheduled later that night. I didn’t really mind missing out on the posters since I felt they had little to do with the films or the artist.
The real meat of the exhibition took place in the Fourth Floor Gallery. It was a veritable Kurosawa cornucopia. They had everything: scripts, screenplays, sketches, etchings, paintings, costumes, awards, letters, etc. I was in heaven. If I were allowed to, I would’ve taken some photos but I didn’t dare risk permanent expulsion from the Academy. I probably came close though.
I had no idea what to expect at the exhibit so I was really shocked to see costumes from Kagemusha and Ran. They even had Lady Sué’s kimono from Ran, right there, out in the open. The thing wasn’t even behind glass! It was an exquisite piece of embroidery, a marvel of craftsmanship. I wanted so much to touch it, if only because I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was looking on something in a way I never had before. The detail was extraordinary and something that I realized never translated to the screen. This was real, lived-in. Whether by use or age, it was frayed. It was wild trying to reconcile reality with fantasy.
Another highlight was looking upon Kurosawa’s Palme d’Or award, which he won at the Cannes Film Festival in 1980 for Kagemusha. I’d never seen a Palme d’Or in my life, not in person anyway. It was so beautifully polished and I stood there transfixed by the way it reflected a golden light. The leaves looked so delicate, as though they were about to fall off at any second. Very surreal.
Another surprise were Kurosawa’s personal effects. They had housed a pair of his geta behind glass, along with personal stamps that he carved himself out of stone and marble, they even had his trademark Crescent Moon stamp. They also had a couple of his iconic sunglasses, though, how could they not? But what I was most taken with were his pastels and watercolors. They were there, right in front of me, used and abused. I suppose I was entranced as I was because they were tools of the trade, tools I could use and understand. It was tools like those that helped create all the little marvels that plastered the walls. I kept imagining him holding these things… how he would use them…
Oh, I forgot to mention the films. At various points in the gallery there were projectors hanging from the ceiling that were projecting his films, in their entirety, on the walls. I remember seeing the great showdown at the end of Yojimbo, as well as the train scene from High And Low and one of the battle sequences from Kagemusha. I remember seeing Seven Samurai as well, but can’t remember which part was playing at the time.
Finally, I’d like to talk about what I feel was the great highlight of the exhibition, Kurosawa’s sketches for Dreams. I now remember what first got me started on my personal Kurosawa retrospective. Some time back I decided to begin work on a sketch book of my own dreams. I had this vision of working with color, something I’d never really done before. It was there that I made the connection. At the time, Kurosawa existed as a Black & White film director, primarily. I knew he eventually filmed in color, but that classic palette is what his name conjures in my mind. And of the films I knew he filmed in color, Dreams was the one that always sprung to mind. It was dream and Dreams that got me started on this latest obsession.
Of Kurosawa’s later work, Dreams is my favorite. That probably isn’t saying much if you knew how I felt about his later films, but that still doesn’t take away from the fact that Dreams is a great film. I think I love it as much as I do because it’s a departure for Kurosawa, it’s one of his most experimental works.
Anyway, I was taken with the sketches because I only learned then, standing in front of them, that there were several scenes conceptualized for Dreams that were never realized. I remember feeling sad. And I keep going back to this gap, the gap between the physical and the mental, the real and the fanciful. I have in mind the first, my favorite, segment of Dreams. I have the final scene in mind. And I have in mind the way it existed in the rough, the way I saw it sketched out and hanging on the gallery wall. That sketch in no way lives up to the majesty of the final vision that was committed to celluloid. And so when I looked upon all those sketches I kept thinking, What could have been? There was so much potential there. And I’m not just talking about those sketches, those scenes, that film, but also the artist at the center of it all. It threw me into this… I began to realize what was gone, what had left. To make the leap, to bridge the gap is something only a visionary can accomplish, a true artist. I remember feeling a profound sense of awe and admiration mixed with a great sadness. Though, I also felt hopeful. There’s something to seeing someone’s life in that way… the art and the artist, together. Both are deeper, richer, more complex than you can ever imagine… and they’re intrinsically intertwined. It was life-affirming being surrounded by all that passion. It was passion, dedication and obsession made real. Art personified. Or maybe life personified? Either way, it was a dream.
Akira Kurosawa, The Criterion Collection
