Rashomon and the Postwar Burden

In recent times we have found it increasingly easy to assign blame to whomever we choose. We need not even know their level of responsibility in the situation to determine that they are, in fact, responsible. One particular example of note is the OJ Simpson trial. Many of us have somehow come to the conclusion that he is guilty, without actual basis for thinking so. This is part of a larger phenomenon that Akira Kurosawa was tapping into when he wrote and directed Rashomon. It is a film caught up in the nature of justice and truth, but also about blame. Following WW2, there began an onslaught of demonization by the American people, reducing the value of Germans, Communists and the Japanese. We blamed the German people for the actions of an elite minority, the Japanese for the actions of even less, and the Communists for the actions of Stalin. This, says Kurosawa, is not permissible.

Rashomon is about trying to determine actual events based on individual accounts. A samurai is dead, and we are trying to figure out exactly where everyone fits in. At the trial, the famous bandit Tajomaru (Toshiro Mifune) confesses to killing the samurai after having a heroic swordfight. Then his story is contradicted by the wife’s testimony who says that she accidentally did it, and Tajomaru ran away after raping her. Then we hear from the dead samurai, through a medium, and he tells us that it was he who killed himself out of a sense of samurai dignity. His wife had been raped and Hara Kiri was the only way to maintain his sense of honor. Then the woodcutter, who is relating the trial to us while keeping dry under the Rasho Gate, tells us that the samurai was anything but dignified, the bandit lacked any sword fighting ability, and the wife was a bit crazy. So we have all of these contradicting stories, and somehow we are supposed to assign blame to someone. One of them is responsible for the samurai’s death. But true justice is unattainable, and the ability of the court to decide is rather limited, so no one takes the rap.

After the woodcutter is done with his story, he and his audience hear a baby crying nearby. The commoner tries to take the things of value from its makeshift cradle, when the woodcutter stops him. After revealing a flaw in his story and showing the woodcutter is not as innocent as he would like to be seen, the commoner leaves Rashomon, taking his treasure with him. After the rain stops, the woodcutter tells the priest that he wan take care of the child, it wont make a lot of difference.

The commoner says about halfway through “But is there anyone who's really good? Maybe goodness is just make-believe. Man just wants to forget the bad stuff, and believe in the made-up good stuff. It's easier that way.” This is really a symptom of postwar America. We laid blame at the feet of the Japanese, whose sole crime was to be part of a nation that attacked Pearl Harbor and, as we later found out, executed the “Rape of Nanking.” The letter of these two is perhaps deserving of the repulsion in engenders, but the former is something that can be forgiven, at least in light of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. One would think we would be able to bury the hatchet, but the entire western world was against the Japanese. Moreover, we were punishing the sons for the crimes of the fathers. These wartime decisions were made by generals, not the populace, and to force the burden on them is even more repugnant than we made them out to be. In the film, they say that the demon of Rashomon flew in fear of the ferocity of man. This ferocity was not only the fact that we could commit 6 million murders, but that we could blame this horrendous crime on those who had no hand in it.

The truth is that you cannot place blame without fully understanding the circumstances. And when you understand the circumstances, typically there exists some rational explanation. With a rational explanation comes some form of redemption. The Japanese needed some form of redemption to avoid international persecution. They were like the child found at the gate: in need of a friendly hand from someone, a warm bed, a home. Those in charge of Japan during WW2 took away everything they had, and left them to die in the cold. We, the western world, were like the commoner. What little the Japanese had left we took from them. We robbed them of their innocence, stole their humanity, and turned our backs. We left them to die. As the film itself states, “In the end, you cannot understand the things men do.”