Throne of Blood Akira Kurosawa\'s

Throne of Blood

Akira Kurosawa's take on Shakespeare's Macbeth can be far more enjoyable than the Elizabethan version. Set against the backdrop of feudal Japan, Kurosawa's Throne of Blood imparts an evil atmosphere that the Bard would envy. However, Shakespeare did not have the benefit of celluloid: Kurosawa's medium. Throne of Blood is a cinematic masterpiece in its own right regardless of its similarities to the Shakespearean prototype. The mis-en-scene, the sound, the use of special effects like mist, and the cinematography recreate Macbeth with aplomb. Kurosawa surpassed Shakespeare in his rendition of Lady Macbeth, as the Japanese director gives the cutthroat Asaji a motive for her madness. Because she is pregnant, Asaji had a motive that Lady Macbeth lacked. In this sense the Kurosawa rendition is more poignant and compelling. Akira Kurosawa brings Shakespeare to life in medieval Japan, presenting on film the tragic tale of betrayal and human weakness.

Although lust for power remains the core motivator for Asaji and Washizu, it is Washizu's weakness that transforms him from an ordinary samurai into a ruthless traitor. He was too easily seduced by Asaji's insipid suggestions. His gullibility creates the shadow of shame that follows Washizu from the moment he takes the sword from his wife's hand. We watch how Asaji slowly erodes Washizu's conscience. She plants treacherous seeds in his heart that lead Washizu to betray not just the Lord Tsuzuki but his best friend Miki. The seeds Asaji plants in Washizu's mind are akin to the one he planted in her: a stillborn child. Her insinuations about Miki are without form, lifeless like her child was when it was born. Tragically Washizu believes both her evil words and in the potential for his unborn son to be the next reigning Lord.

Throne of Blood proves that Shakespeare's themes are universal and timeless. For Macbeth to transfer seamlessly to the silver screen is remarkable considering that Shakespeare wrote the play with the limitations of stage production in mind. One of the ways Throne of Blood surpasses Macbeth is in the ability of the director to film in black and white. While a stage director might be able to use black and white symbolism in the backdrop or costumes, a stage version of Macbeth will not be as imbued with the starkness, the severity, that black and white media convey. Another reason why Throne of Blood is a remarkable interpretation of Macbeth is Kurosawa's soundscape. Japanese language and its percussiveness, Washizu's unforgettable screams and his nervous laughter, and the intermittent peals of percussion instruments, flute, and chanting are essential to Kurosawa's movie. The film opens with ominous chopping sounds interspersed with flute, creating an eerie ambiance that foreshadows death and destruction. Interestingly, the chopping sound reverberates at the end of the film when "the forest moves toward the castle." Just as the chopping sounds come full circle, so do the droning chants that are heard at the beginning and at the end of the film.

Kurosawa seems to explore the bond between Washizu and Miki particularly well in Throne of Blood. The friendship is established early in the film as it is between Macbeth and Banquo but the sense of betrayal is particularly poignant in Throne of Blood. At the start of the film, Washizu and Miki seem like ordinary samurai: jock-like and summarily aggressive. They are not necessarily good people, and they are certainly not saints, but neither were they corrupt. Indeed, Miki's conscience remains unsullied, whereas his former best friend falls into the trap laid by Asaji. More conniving than any other character in the movie, Asaji is the sole driving force behind the plot as well. The witch did influence Washizu but not nearly to the extent that Asaji did. The witch merely pried into Washizu's soul, reading there is hidden desire for greatness. Asaji tore into her husband's heart, rendering asunder any modicum of reason or humanity within him. The audience can see the slow breakdown of Washizu's character even more so than we notice it in Macbeth. At first Washizu disagrees strongly with his wife. He argues with her while she disparages Tsuzuki and Miki. Yet his will dissolves slowly. Washizu comes to believe his wife not because he is a bad man but because he was aware of the precarious power samurai leaders have. In other words, Washizu came to fear his wife's words and acted out of self-protection. Doing so he unfortunately sacrificed not only his personal integrity but also his ability to trust. When towards the end of the film Miki apparently retains his faith in his best friend, the audience feels the full impact of the betrayal. Miki said to his son that Washizu promised him the throne in lieu of his own heir; those were Miki's last words spoken on-screen as the next thing we know he has died.