A woodcutter and a priest are joined by a rough-around-the-edges commoner at Rashomon, the dilapidated southern gate of Kyoto. Shaken with disbelief, the woodcutter begins to harp on the recent murder of a samurai. In fact, it was he who discovered the samurai’s dead body on a hillside. In the ensuing trial, it was established that the samurai and his wife encountered a bandit in the hills; this bandit lured the samurai away from his wife, restrained him, and then raped the woman. Confusingly however, during the trial, both the bandit and the wife individually claim responsibility for stabbing the samurai. To add to the chaotic narrative, a spiritual-medium is consulted—and through her, the dead samurai allegedly confesses to killing himself! Among these caricatures of reality, we (the audience) are expected to decide our own version of the truth and ultimately, the nature of humanity.
For “Rashomon”, Akira Kurosawa pioneered the technique in which the same scene plays over and over from different, unreliable perspectives. This format, today known as “the Rashomon Effect” was intriguing, but played out a bit slowly for my taste. My first pass at the film was likely challenged by personal biases, such as my thoughts on ‘supernatural mediums’, inexperience with Japanese cultural norms (such as the way gender and honor is handled, particular in the wake of a rape), and bias against old films in particular. Still, the film left me pondering the “truth” in this story, and in general, for some time after my screening. This story asks the simple question “how did we get here?”, and each provided answer is designed to preserve the dignity and honor of the speaker. In the context of true-crime and justice, this dialogue is fascinating. And in the context of a country 5-years after a painful defeat in WWII, this message must have been deeply personal.