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Something Like An Autobiography

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Akira Kurosawa is now considered one of the founding fathers of cinema, but you wouldn't know it from "Something Like An Autobiography." In this book, Kurosawa is surprisingly humble and humorous when describing his life, and keeps it interesting rather than lapsing into the mechanics of filmmaking.

Born to an old samurai family, Kurosawa was a bit of an ugly duckling -- he wasn't very bright or athletic, but he had a definite drive to learn and a distinct artistic sense. He ran into a few dead ends (like his flirtation with socialism) and didn't get into the Japanese army during WW2 (something he was quite grateful for). But then Kurosawa fell headlong into scriptwriting and directing -- something that would make him famous around the world.

Usually when people talk about Kurosawa, they mention "Star Wars." And yes, Kurosawa's "Hidden Fortress" was a shaping influence on George Lucas. But Kurosawa gave the world plenty of other movie flourishes: the "wipe" effect between scenes, slow motion, pointing a camera at the sun, and many other things.

Kurosawa really gives insight into his heart and his artistry in this. Masterfully told, it's about the various parts of his life -- boyhood, adolescence, maturity, and everything in between. It's not about the making of each film, but mainly the things that were most memorable. After reading this, you'll have newfound respect for screenwriters and directors, and everything they struggle with.

But Kurosawa keeps a sense of humor about himself too. He admits frankly when he did something stupid or ignorant. And he relates some very funny anecdotes, such as his odd marriage proposal: "It looks as if we are going to lose the war, and if it comes to the point of the Honorable Death of the Hundred Million, we all have to die anyway. It's probably not a bad idea to find out what married life is like before that happens." Amazingly, despite a proposal like that, he got married. And in retrospect, Kurosawa seems entirely aware of how odd it sounds.

Kurosawa not only elaborates on his filmmaking, but his formative years as well -- a "slow" boy with a love of kendo and painting. His childhood was full of those events that seem insignificant to an adult, but he remembers them clearly as being deeply momentous at the time. He also describes his family as well -- his rebellious brother, sweet-natured mother, and strict father. One rather disappointing thing is about his wife, Yôko Yaguchi. He was married to Yaguchi for forty years and had two children with her, yet doesn't talk much about her.

Akira Kurosawa wrote a lively and engaging memoir in "Something Like An Autobiography. Honest, intriguing and insightful, it's a good read for anyone, not just movie buffs.

Something Like an Autobiography
by Akira Kurosawa
translated by Audie E. Bock

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.

This work is pure pleasure to read. His use of language mirrors his mastery of cinematography. The book outlines his life up until 1950. While this might seem to omit many of his more well known works, enough detail and thought is given to his early days, that a true insight is gained into his life and work. I do not consider myself a movie buff, but this book doesn't get caught up in the technical side, so I was able to understand his passion clearly. Very good.

This wonderful text brings the reader directly into one of the greatest minds in film history. Open, honest, real, Kurosawa shares his hopes, his fears, his true self with the reader. For those who admire Kurosawa's work, this book provides so much insight into how the great film maker got his ideas, his motivation and his drive. Unlike the Heart of Darkness, this film maker was filled with light in an otherwise dark time. Alive when the great earthquake hit Tokyo, this book takes the reader from the economic chaos of pre-WWII Japan, through the personal trials and tribulations of Ameican occupation as Kurosawa searches for an identity for his people in the modern era. Touching and painful is the reality that he had to travel aboard to make films because the international movie making genius was considered somehow second rate in Japan just because he was Japanese. Kurosawa said, I don't know why it is that Japanese people feel any thing Japanese is not good enough. His story illustrates the kind of sociological identity crisis that Japan as a whole experienced after WWII. Engaging.

This book is a fantastic gift for the Kurosawa fan and even for the casual reader who likes an interesting book. It gives a clear insight into Kurosawa's life and one can trace the origin for many of his cinematic idioms from his personal experiences. Its really fascinating especially in the parts where he describes the various influences especially his stint with Yamamoto. His rage against the Japanese censorship is so beautifully expresses and one can not help but feel what greater masterpieces might have been extracted from a less fettered director. My only quibble is that he has not talked about his films after Rashomon since that represents a vital experience for film lovers to know and understand.

Puts under the magnifying lens the life of a man with the single-mindedness and honesty to derive perfection out of a single art--the art of directing. Akira Kurosawa presents a candid side of himself and of the personal events that helped shape his career, from early on when he begins an appreciation for the arts & literature, to the point when he finally gets his "break" and starts film-making.

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.

Some people have criticized this book, saying Kurosawa does not go deep enough into his films, particularly his later ones, and why he did what he did. In all honesty, maybe the popularity over this book is poorly done - all the reviews on the front and back cover talk about it like Kurosawa will explain his movies in detail, and most often advertisements will talk about how if you like his movies you should read the book. But as Kurosawa himself says in the preface, he did it really out of encouragement from friends and in an effort perhaps to do what Jean Renoir did do and John Ford did not. As the title suggests, it is really a more personal, casual, reflection upon his life from his birth to the filming of "Rashomon," his first international success, in 1950. In a way, the personal route may be a humbling experience to the film guru or the Kurosawa fanatic. Too often directors or filmmakers are treated - as many artists are, in fact - more like a synopsis of their latest work. We constantly hear about how masterful Stanley Kubrick was and what his methods were, but who was he really? What school did he go to? Who were his friends? His teachers? What was his family like? What were his boyhood passions? Who is this man behind the camera?

Kurosawa tells us that in his story from his first memories as a child ("I was in a washtub naked," page 3) through his school years and through a tough young adulthood. It is all very well written, and actually quite interesting, particularly the segments on Mr. Tachikawa, who we can probably thank for Kurosawa's love of painting, his brother forcing him to face his fears, (not only of water, but of death as well) and two daring but stupid moments in a mountain village where he almost killed himself to impress the local children.

Kurosawa's growth is nearly coincidental with Japanese history. Just as Japan was constantly changing through out the 20th century, so to was Kurosawa. Forced to participate in a military program at his school, he takes every opportunity to belittle or make a fool of his army captain. His venture into art is like an odd adventure, going from joining a socialist art movement (nearly being captured by the Japanese secret police!) to living on his own to writing scripts and eventually joining Photo Chemical Laboratory. (later Toho Studios) He discusses marrying an actress because he was afraid of never being married before the "Honorable Death of the Hundred Million" many Japanese believed they would commit if invasion seemed immenant. This eventually goes on to his work as an Assistant Director, and later making his very own films through Toho and later Daiei after the Toho Studio strikes. These parts will be more to the liking of the film guru, as Kurosawa does give backstory to the inspirations behind his early work.

During this time period he speaks a lot of his family and the friends he got to know. His brother is such a remarkable and likeable character that when he commits suicide you really do feel sad. I took a particular love for Kurosawa's father: although some may see him as a bit harsh when he berates his wife for placing fish wrong or getting upset with his son for failing courses, one shouldn't dismiss him with the simple western stereotype of the tough father for he does have a heart. When Kurosawa's wife becomes pregnant and he pays a visit to his family, his father gives him a large bag of rice and says it is for his pregnant wife, not wanting her to go hungry in a time when food was scarce in Japan.

Perhaps, in the end, it is really fitting that Kurosawa focus so much on his personal feelings rather than his film. If you have watched his films and studied them, you will see the influences from his past life in those very films. "Something Like an Autobiography" was written long before Kurosawa made "Dreams," yet I found myself recalling the film reading this book. Besides his references to mountain climbing, he also talks about how in his father's village children would place flowers over a rock, and he learned that long ago a warrior had been killed and the villagers buried him there out of pity and placed the rock over his grave, so now children place flowers on it whenever they pass out of respect. Sound familiar? I also smiled at the section near the end when he discusses a Daiei studio executive - one who had been so steadfastly against making "Rashomon" - coming on TV and speaking for the film as if he was the mastermind behind it. I was thinking of the Deputy Mayor in "Ikiru," who is against the park project from the beginning yet after Watanabe's death takes all the credit. Maybe Kurosawa alludes to this kind of art reflecting life on page 163 when he mentions the oddly impeccable timing of "The Cuckoo Waltz" while dubbing "Drunken Angel."

This is a recommended read for any one interested in film or Akira Kurosawa's life - it is easy to read, full of wisdom, and is very frank and personal. As I said, it's not a 198 page thesis on his films, but as Kurosawa says in the book he does not enjoy explaining his films - he puts into his films what he has to say and leaves it at that. As the last line of the book says, "There is nothing that says more about its creator than the work itself."

Interesting not only for the view into the mind of one of my favorite directors, but also for the perspective of someone growing up in barely post-feudal Japan and living through WWII. The tale ends with the production and release of Rashoman, which leaves out a lot of interesting films and events from Kurosawa's life, leaving me hoping that he produces a second volume covering the remainder of his life before it comes to an end.

"No matter where I go in the world, although I can't speak any foreign language, I don't feel out of place. I think of the earth as my home. If everyone thought this way, people might notice just how foolish international friction is, and they would put an end to it." (pg. 61)

The Japanese style of film production was so different than ours... particularly compared to Hollywood today... anyhow, if you like Kurosawa's work, you'd probably really enjoy reading his autobiography.

"During youth the desire for self-expression is so overpowering that most people end up by losing all grasp on their real selves." (pg.88)

He recalls his spartan childhood, his supportive parents, an eye-opening earthquake, his brother's suicide, and his final arrival on the Toho studio lot. Interspersed with stories about fellow professionals and self-realization, Kurosawa delves into the creation of his films and screenplays. He tells of throwing a lightbulb at a director, his problems with alcohol, and his affection for his crew. In fact the least talked about aspect of his life if his family who obviously took second seat to his love affair with film.

"My films emerge from my own desire to say a particular thing at a particular time." (pg.192)

The book is chock full of good advice for aspiring directors and even includes an addendum with related notes on filmmaking. While you may not agree with all of Kurosawas theories, I think everyone can learn something from his experiences.

"I am not a special person. I am not especially strong; I am not especially gifted. I simply do not like to show my weakness, and I hate to lose, so I am a person who tries hard. That's all there is to me." (pg.159)

Indispensible reading for cinemaniacs, as well as an insightful examination of Japanese culture prior to World War II. The chapters on Kurosawa's first films are interesting, if a bit skimpy in detail, and I would have loved a more thorough discussion of "Rashomon," "The Seven Samurai," the making of "Kagemusha," and his other late-period films. But those are minor quibbles. I won't soon forget this "autobiography."