Seven Samurai (1954)

Set in 16th Century Japan, Kurosawa's much imitated feature is the story of seven rōnin who are hired to protect a village of poor farmers from a gang of merciless bandits. Outnumbered by approx 6:1 and paid only in rice the swordsmen, led by the altruistic Kambei (Takashi Shimura), must work together tirelessly despite their reasons for accepting the job being different.
It's a long film, over three hours, but the three distinct phases (the hiring of the seven, the preparation for battle, and the battle itself) each lead seamlessly into the next, preventing it from feeling too stretched out.
Toshirô Mifune, Kurosawa's regular collaborator, isn't the leader, but he plays a key role and even provides a few laughs that lighten the mood.

4½ bamboo spears out of 5

Yojimbo (1961)

Toshirô Mifune stars as the titular yojimbo (bodyguard), a masterless samurai feeling the economic pinch of the era in Kurosawa's much-imitated jidaigeki. He positions himself between two rivals, one at each end of a small town, and outmanoeuvres them both. He knows that being in the middle is a dangerous place to be, but it offers the best possible view of both sides.
One of the film's strengths is its straightforward delivery. For both director and actor actions are more important than words. The old man that shelters the rōnin provides backstory for the viewer, followed by the yojimbo advancing the plot as and when the story needs it. In contrast to the story, Mifune's role is multifaceted and yet he somehow makes it seem as effortless as his character's manipulation of the idiotic antagonists.

4½ hungry dogs out of 5

Akira Kurosawa's Dreams (1990)

Eight short stories inspired by Kurosawa's dreams. There's a recurring nature theme, but otherwise they appear to be unconnected. The painterly use of colour is spellbinding and the music is emotionally stirring. The end result is a thing of self-indulgent beauty, but the openness and lack of conventional narrative structure will disappoint anyone hoping for a traditional film.
The elusive nature of the source is retained. Each is like a fragment of a larger whole, but even a sliver of mirror can reflect what it sees.
My favourite was the final entry, Village of the Watermills; the idyllic setting and feeling of harmony was uplifting.

3½ sunshowers out of 5

A Message from Akira Kurosawa: For Beautiful Movies (2000)

A revealing look at the Japanese auteur's working method using structured chapters that focus on one aspect of the craft at a time. It was shot by his son Hisao and features input from Akira's daughter Kazuko. It's a kind of 'make films the Kurosawa way' class that'll give you a deeper appreciation of the lengths his cast and crew went to in order to realise the vision.
Of special interest to me was seeing some of the stunning storyboards that he reportedly spent a decade painting in preparation for Ran (1985). If they're not already collected together in a book, they ought to be.

3½ shades of emotion out of 5

Ran (1985)

If the role of the fool doesn't clue you in early on, the best way to approach Ran is to imagine yourself an audience member at a theatre and the film frame an elaborate stage. That way the pacing, framing, and blood, etc, will make perfect sense. Even the clouds are dramatic.
It's the story of a Sengoku-era Lord, Hidetora, with three sons of different temperament. He divides his Kingdom between each of them but the power, jealousy and greed tears the family stability apart.
Toru Takemitsu's minimalist score adds haunting atmosphere.
If you get confused about who's who, just remember the colours.

5 shakes of the 'Speare out of 5

Ame agaru (1999)

aka: When the Rain Lifts / After the Rain

A rōnin and his dutiful wife spend time at an Inn waiting for bad weather to change to favourable conditions. While they wait they interact with the other visitors and share in their life and their concerns for a time.
Ame agaru is based on the last screenplay ever written by Akira Kurosawa (adapted from a story by Shûgorô Yamamoto). It was directed by his long-time assistant, Takashi Koizumi, and stars Akira Terao and Shirô Mifune (the son of Toshirô). Those attachments may well give a viewer the wrong impression of what the film has to offer. The result is a quiet jidaigeki that’s more akin to the work of Yôji Yamada than Kurosawa. It's a reflective work that takes cautious steps toward an open-ended realisation.

4 benevolent lessons out of 5

Rashomon (1950)

They say the camera never lies. But it does in Rashomon.
Kurosawa turns the traditionally objective lens into a subjective tool, recording half-remembered half-truths from unreliable sources.
The story, told partly in flashback, is a simple one about a bandit, a samurai and his wife, but the web of lies surrounding it is far from simple.
With minimal sets and very little dialogue to comfort us it's the technique that makes it special, that makes it infinitely watchable. The fixed perspectives put the onus on the viewer to decide what to believe.

5 kinds of truth out of 5

A.K. (1985)

Chris Marker’s documentary of the making of Akira Kurosawa's Ran (1985).
Marker points his camera and lets events unfold; he waits, listens and very occasionally waxes lyrical on memory and method.
We see Kurosawa as he sees him, as an old man struggling against the elements on the side of a mountain, but equally at home in an environment that gives him life, namely on set, being Sensei.
It’s a meditative experience and a brief glimpse into the workings of a master film-maker. Essential viewing for fans of either director.

5 times filming the untranslatable out of 5