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

KWAIDAN [1964]

aka Kaidan

Masaki Kobayashi, director of The Human Condition trilogy, adapts four ancient Japanese folktales for the ghost story anthology Kwaidan.
A segment for each season of the year, (Hoichi the Earless being my favorite) focuses on victims both innocent and deserving of their ghostly punishments.
After a ridiculously poor DVD release, Criterion gave it a proper blu-ray release in 2015 that did wonders for it's striking visuals that are rich in color, texture and framing.  The theatrical sets are beautifully designed with gorgeously painted backdrops that all give it a fable-like aesthetic that  accentuates that campfire-esque storytelling.  The minimal sound design is exquisite particularly with a proper sound system that allows the startling cricks 'n creaks bury itself deep within your head and purposely break the soothing tranquility of it all.  It's not a particularly frightening watch but it's eerie enough to haunt your thoughts with wonder and awe.  

5 unlucky biwa players 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

The Mysterians (1957)

A festival, what should be a time of joy for all concerned, is interrupted by a mysterious fire, followed not long afterwards by an earthquake. The quiet little mountain village is about to lose the quiet part of its nature.
It’s an alien invasion film from Toho that once again paired director Ishirô Honda’s imagery with the sounds of master musician Akira Ifukube, both of whom had worked on the first Godzilla (1954) film. It has a kaijū of its own for a while, but mostly it’s a regular sci-fi film with special effects that are really amazing for the era. Not just in the scale model work. The props and set dressings inside the spacey dome are also top quality.

3 invitations by name out of 5

Zatoichi's Conspiracy (1973)

Film number 25 was the end of the original, unbroken run of Zatoichi films. Shintarô Katsu stayed with the character for a subsequent 100 episode TV Series (1974-79), and he came back for one last blind farewell many years later (1989), but it's here that a line can be drawn and an emotional marker laid.
The swordsman returns to his home town, a place he's not been in over twenty years, with mixed feelings in his heart. Sadness shares space with remembered joy, and old faces with new.
All happenings point towards an inevitable and familiar ending, but it's how he gets there that's important. Being who he is means it's bloody and with the best of intentions. Other than the setting, there's no real indication that all concerned knew it was to be the last. Nevertheless, as a farewell it's decent and thankfully less bleak than the few films that preceded it.

3 trust penalties out of 5

Samurai III: Duel at Ganryu Island (1956)

Musashi Miyamoto no longer feels the need to publicly validate his skills or privately stroke his ego. He knows when to fight and when to back down, even when facing a lesser opponent. Sasaki Kojirō, on the other hand, is consumed by the need to defeat Musashi, thus proving his mastery once and for all. It's a fight that only one man wants but both know is inevitable.
Inagaki uses silhouettes from time to time for dramatic effect - not the flat kind but the layered kind, complementing the tiers of the plot. It helps give the samurai the quality of legend, a role that he would fill some years later. But before that he must face the fight of his life at Ganryu Island.

5 long-cherished dreams out of 5

Zatoichi and the Fugitives (1968)

The 18th film goes from quiet beginnings to a spectacular finale that takes place in close quarters and is one of the bloodiest of the series so far, but it doesn't neglect the slow burn and traditional moments in between.
Most of the villains, a group of yakuza who gather in a small town at the same time as Ichi arrives, are ruthless, senseless thugs led by a man who’s characterised by his biding of time and sense of caution. Their behaviour forces the blind swordsman to get his rage on to take them down. It’s such a fierce feeling that even the skies respond in kind.
It adopts a spaghetti western style in places, even musically, but the spaghettis were heavily influenced by chanbara, so it kind of works.
Takashi Shimura lends support as a kindly doctor.

4 shoulders of great men out of 5

Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster (1964)

If proof were needed that adding more monsters to a film doesn't necessarily make it better, look upon exhibit A. It’s the first to feature King Ghidorah, but what’s not evident from the title is that it’s also the fifth Godzilla film and continues the story of Mothra vs. Godzilla (1964).*
A storm of meteorites lights up the night sky, bringing with them the three-headed King of destruction. Meanwhile, the big G and Rodan are going head to head, dragging the franchise into new territory. There are elements of slapstick creeping into the bouts. Nut shots were okay, but did we really need a game of keepie-uppie with a rock? Bloody hell.

*If you want to keep track of the other monsters, it's the third outing for Mothra and the second for Rodan who each had their own series.

2½ stubborn creatures out of 5

Godzilla Raids Again (1955)

aka Godzilla's Counterattack

The first sequel to the original Godzilla (1954) film has a significantly lessened military presence. Instead, it shifts much of the focus to the humble Japanese citizen, enabling him/her to be a hero while the city is again a casualty. It also shifts the action from Tokyo to Osaka.
It’s a more straightforward monster vs monster flick, notable for being the first entry to have Godzilla fighting another giant creature in the form of the prehistoric Anguirus, a spiky quadruped that knows how to wrestle.

2½ light distractions out of 5

Godzilla (1954)

The monarch of kaijū eiga is a force to be reckoned with and is more than just an excuse to have a guy in a rubber suit trash tiny models. You don’t need to be a history scholar to pick out the wartime parallels: nuclear weapons testing in the Pacific, irradiated wells and footfalls that sound like distant bombs impacting and exploding are all highlighted.
The film is cleverly constructed so that even when forced to take the role of the aggressor the Japanese people don’t cease being victims.
All of that, and more, make it both culturally significant and cinematically more interesting than many of the sequels and the dozens of clones that followed over the years.

4 warning bells 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