The more popular an artist is, the harder it can be to start enjoying their works. You may feel that you are basically familiar with them because of cultural osmosis, where you see bits and pieces of their output or their influences all around you. You may also feel paralyzed by choice, not knowing where to start your journey of discovery.
Many people feel this way about Akira Kurosawa, widely considered one of the greatest filmmakers in history. A director of more than 30 movies, Kurosawa’s filmography is full of historical drama, social commentary, heart-pounding action and profound introspections about the nature of humanity. Where do you begin with a director of such caliber? Below are some suggestions.
An official poster for the 1941 drama Uma — meaning “horse”
The Ironman Method
Most of Kurosawa’s filmography is easily available in Japan on streaming platforms like U-Next or Prime Video. The DVDs of his movies are also often quite cheap, especially if you buy them secondhand. This makes it easy to watch all of Kurosawa’s films in chronological order, from his debut to his last cinematic offering, enjoying not just the movies themselves but also the evolution of his style and fascinating reflections of the times he lived through. There’s just one problem with that.
Not everyone agrees about what Kurosawa’s first film was. He was first credited as a director for the 1943 movie Sanshiro Sugata, a fun historical martial arts flick about the battle between judo and jujutsu. However, before being given the director’s chair, Kurosawa worked on many films as an assistant director. It’s now widely accepted that in one such production, the 1941 drama Uma — meaning “horse” — he essentially did most of the work officially credited to writer-director Kajiro Yamamoto.
Many Kurosawa scholars see the young artist’s fingerprints all over Uma, which, even if you don’t count it as a pure Kurosawa joint, is still worth watching for its portrayal of life in rural Tohoku. There’s a bit of military propaganda at the start and end of the film, but it doesn’t take away from the quality of the movie.
Also, many Kurosawa filmographies mention the 1946 film Those Who Make Tomorrow, which was also a propaganda piece. Only this one came from the Allied Forces, who wanted a movie about workers’ unions. Kurosawa was one of three directors on the project but personally didn’t consider it part of his legacy. Plus, it’s hard to get hold of. At this point, it can only be seen at movie festivals and such.
A true Kurosawa completionist will probably still try to hunt that one down, though. For extra credit, watch the 30 movies that Kurosawa wrote but didn’t direct, including his last script for the 1999 Japanese and French drama After the Rain, featuring Kurosawa’s grandson Takayuki Kato in a supporting role.
The Mifune Method
Kurosawa’s success was defined by his partnerships with powerhouse actors. Near the end of his career, it was Tatsuya Nakadai who helped bring his visions to life in Kagemusha (1980) and Ran (1985). In the beginning, though, there was the celebrated actor Takashi Shimura, who appeared in Sanshiro Sugata at the beginning of Kurosawa’s directorial journey. Unfortunately, he also featured in his weaker movies, such as the pure propaganda piece The Most Beautiful (1944) and the aforementioned Those Who Make Tomorrow.
This is admittedly a problem with watching everything Kurosawa directed: you’ll have to get through objectively bad movies that he had to get out of his system or was pressured to make, like Sanshiro Sugata Part II. It was the first sequel with a number in it in the world and an altogether unpleasant cinematic experience full of nationalistic propaganda.
The Ironman Method can unfortunately sour some viewers on Kurosawa. A safe alternative is to simply watch the movies where the director teamed up with Toshiro Mifune. One of the greatest Japanese actors who ever lived, Mifune appeared in 16 Kurosawa movies, starting with Drunken Angel (1948), in which he played a yakuza with tuberculosis alongside an alcoholic doctor portrayed by Shimura.
Many consider Drunken Angel the beginning of Kurosawa’s true career, although the 1947 movie One Wonderful Sunday also has a lot to offer.
Still, only watching Kurosawa-Mifune movies is a recipe for a good time and a great way to see the actor as more than just a man who portrayed warriors, like in Seven Samurai (1954), The Hidden Fortress (1958) and Yojimbo (1961).
In The Quiet Duel (1949), he played a stoic, idealistic surgeon who accidentally contracted syphilis during an operation. Two years later, in The Idiot (1951) — a film based on the Fyodor Dostoevsky novel of the same name — he brought to life a troubled man spiraling out of control due to violent and passionate emotions.
In The Bad Sleep Well (1960), Mifune played a mix of a modern-day Hamlet and the Count of Monte Cristo. His last Kurosawa movie, Red Beard (1965), sadly led to a rift between the two, but at least we got a fascinating portrayal of a feudal-period doctor and martial artist out of it.
The BFI Method
The British Film Institute’s selection of the 10 best Akira Kurosawa movies is one of the most useful encapsulations of the director’s work that you will ever see. The Mifune Method is fun, but it skips over all of Kurosawa’s acclaimed color movies — every Kurosawa-Mifune film is black-and-white — and some of his earlier works, which are essential if you want to understand the director.
The BFI gets that, and that’s why its selection gives viewers a taste of everything: early, humanist Kurosawa (No Regrets for Our Youth), crazy-badass Mifune (Seven Samurai), dignified Mifune offering social commentary (Scandal), Shimura ripping out the audience’s hearts (Ikiru), or Kurosawa mastering the historic epic and the use of color in cinema (Ran). And that’s just half the list.
Jasper Sharp’s selection for the BFI is obviously subjective, but the writer makes an ironclad case for all the entries. It’s probably best to watch them chronologically, which should give you the most informative Kurosawa experience ever. If the movies feel like a chore, and you don’t want to watch more, it will mean that Kurosawa isn’t your cup of tea, and that’s perfectly alright. Others, however, might find themselves enthusiastically picking up what the director is laying down and wanting more.
