Something Like An Autobiography [Paperback]

This is NOT a book about film-making, however, nor is it a collective analysis of the films he makes throughout his career, although there are many references to his early work. What is key to this work is Kurosawa's stream of consciousness. His book is a study in introspection and the different factors that weigh on a director's mind as he makes a film. For a would-be director, or an aspiring one, this is an inside-look at how a legendary director produces masterful work, and it is told with such simplicity, such attention to detail and personal sincerity that it equates to the feeling of reading someone's diary or personal memoirs reflecting on the times he felt were deeply affecting.

Through his work, Kurosawa proves himself a man of human insight, of penetrating power into what drives actors and assistant directors alike and bringing out the best of each to produce works of perfection. In the end, Kurosawa defines exactly what it means to direct; to have "insight" into each of the elements that produce a film, from the script-making, to the lighting crews, to the acting, to the camerawork, to the shooting and editing itself, the director is actively involved and the ability to command such forces is likened very appropriately to that of an army general. At the heart of it all, the director is a general, whose ability to bring out the very best out of each of his "soldiers" is what leads his army on to victory. Kurosawa's legendary track-record has proven him a first-rate general of the highest class. This was a real treat to read--Thank You, Kurosawa.

Kurosawa's "autobiography" has a light touch which is very ingratiating, and when he recounts some of the more distressing events of his childhood and adolescence, especially the suicide of his older brother, he simply breaks our hearts.

There are (at least) two excellent critical studies of Kurosawa's films: (1) "The Warrior's Camera: The Cinema of Akira Kurosawa" by Stephen Price, Princeton University Press, 1999; and (2) "The Films of Akira Kurosawa" by Donald Ritchie, University of California Press, 1998. Ritchie has also written the canonical work on Japanese Film: "A Hundred Years of Japanese Film," Kodansha International, 2001.

Kurosawa's greatest film is universally acknowledged to be "The Seven Samurai" (1954). Many consider it to be the greatest film ever made. There is a masterful study of this film by Joan Mellen (who added some material to Ritchie's Kurosawa volume) and published by the British Film Institute (2002). "The Seven Samurai" was remade twice in English, first by John Sturges (1960) as "The Magnificent Seven" (the original title for the release of the Japanese film in the US), and later by John Lattimer (Pixar, 1998) as "a bug's life." This writer (obviously in the minority) finds the former a poor copy and the latter a minor masterpiece, which surely would have delighted the "emperor" himself.

It seems obvious that this book is the first to turn to for admirers of Kurosawa's films who seek to know more about the legendary director's influences and ideas. This is the primary source in English for information about Kurosawa's early life and career, and all the film studies and biographies in print (including dvd commentary tracks and the recent documentary film) draw heavily on it.

It's an excellent book, ably translated by Audie E. Bock. Bock was Kurosawa's English translator and assistant for many years, and incidentally, has provided some of the better English subtitle translations of his films. Her translation of his text here is clear and direct.

In addition to being a great director, Kurosawa was a great scriptwriter, and he tells his own story in fine style through brief episodes that are replete with visual imagery (perhaps to be expected from a filmmaker). His recollection of his childhood is particularly revealing: of the turmoil and sweeping changes in early 20th century Japan, as well as the personal experiences and events that shaped the man he was to become.

Kurosawa recounts his story through his early career at Toho and Daiei up to the Venice Film Festival's award of the Grand Prix medal to Rashomon (1950). His decision not to proceed further is perhaps the book's only major disappointment, as Kurosawa was to live until 1998 and make many great films that are not discussed in the book.

Something Like an Autobiography will hold great appeal to any reader with an interest in 20th century Japanese culture in general, and is simply required reading for those seeking a deeper understanding of the Master's films.