'Rashomon': The Weakness and Lies in Human Nature

In the decrepit hall, beneath a weathered plaque, amidst the pouring rain, unfolds a tale that portrays human nature in its most unappealing light.

Akira Kurosawa's distinctive and potent storytelling style shines through in this narrative. Through the voice of a woodcutter, the first person to discover the crime scene, who takes shelter under the dilapidated Rashomon gate during heavy rain, the entire incident is narrated to a passer-by. At the same time, there is a Buddhist monk in the hall who has had a chance encounter with the parties involved in the case.

This is a murder case. A samurai walks through the mountains with his wife, who is riding a white horse, and brushes past the monk. Subsequently, when the bandit lying under a tree sees a gust of wind lift the woman's veil, he is captivated by her beauty and succumbs to evil thoughts. He deceives and ties the samurai up, and then he rapes the woman. The woodcutter, who happens to pass by, discovers the samurai's body and hurriedly reports it to the authorities.

It is confirmed that the bandit is the one who killed the samurai. However, the contradictions lies in the motive for the murder and the murder weapon - whether it was a long sword or a short knife. Everyone's testimony is flawless. Even the testimony given by the deceased samurai, through the mouth of a medium, seems to be flawless.

The bandit does not deny that he killed the samurai. However, according to him, the samurai he fought bravely with a long sword for over twenty rounds was unfortunately defeated, making him a hero, while he himself is a courageous and honourable man who fought valiantly. Exerting control over a strong-willed woman brandishing a short knife and having her willingly fulfil his desires fills him with immense pride and satisfaction.

The woman admitted to the humiliation of being raped and revealed that her husband, the samurai, has callously ignored her and thus caused her to be in immense pain. So she drew a dagger and asked the samurai to kill her. However, she fainted from excessive sorrow, and when she woke up, she found the dagger stuck in the samurai's chest. She contemplated suicide but lacked the courage to go through with it. The whereabouts of the robber were already unknown.

The samurai entrusted the oral account of the shrine maiden, which portrayed a different scene: the robber raped his wife in front of him. Then, he saw his wife turn to the robber and demand that he had to kill the samurai. He felt extreme anger. At this moment, the robber pushed the woman down, expressing disdain, and asked the samurai how to deal with her. The samurai forgave the robber but could not tolerate his wife's malice. With curses and resentment towards her, the samurai tragically committed suicide. The woman, the robber, and even the dagger, all disappeared.

The rain outside the Rashomon Gate continued to pour. Woodcutters, monks, and passers-by still waited under the eaves for the rain to stop. The fierce collision of thoughts in the woodcutter's heart was like the wind and rain. Finally, he spoke and revealed the truth of what he had witnessed with his own eyes.

After the robber had raped the woman, he tried to console her in every possible way, hoping that she would agree to go with him. She couldn't make up her mind and wanted her husband and the robber to fight each other in a battle of strength, and she would be with the winner. However, the samurai was a coward. He expressed his unwillingness to risk his life for her and questioned his wife, saying, "Why don't you embarrass yourself in front of two men?!" At that moment, the robber said, "Don't treat her like this. They are not men. They cry uncontrollably because they are weak." The woman suddenly understood how despicable and cowardly her husband was. She confronted him, asking why he, as a samurai, was unable to protect his own wife and mocking the robber in various ways. Provoked by her, the two men finally drew their swords and began to fight. However, their stances and swordsmanship were chaotic and disorganized, lacking any gallantry. The death of the samurai was just an accidental occurrence. When the robber turned around, the woman was nowhere to be found.

This is how things are. But why is the woodcutter unwilling to reveal the truth? He claims that he doesn't want to get involved in the case. In reality, it's because of his momentary greed that he secretly took the valuable dagger. The truth he intended to conceal was exposed by the passerby who heard his confession.

"People only think they are honest." "Where there is weakness, there are lies." Every word the passerby said was reasonable, causing the monk on the side to sigh, "If we can't even trust people, what can we trust?" So the passerby reveals that it was always like this. The ghosts near the Rashomon gate find humans too terrifying, so they don't come.

However, the real reason for each person's insistence lies in the phrase, "Where there is weakness, there are lies." The bandit wants to show his gallantry even when killing people. The woman tries to conceal the fact that she is not chaste and instigates the duel that led to her husband's death. The samurai aims to conceal his own cowardice and incompetence even through the witch's words. And the woodcutter is hesitant to reveal the truth, simply because he wants to conceal the fact that he secretly took the dagger. Human nature is presented in such a dark and naked manner, and everyone's insistence can be seen as satisfying their own "needs" - the weaknesses they need to conceal.

However, thinking deeper, the bandit describes the samurai in his words as a strong and courageous samurai, equal to himself in strength. The samurai, on the other hand, describes the bandit as a man with masculine ideals and ultimately forgives him. However, both of them have a contemptuous and mocking attitude towards the same woman. One claims that she went from being chaste to being submissive and promiscuous, while the other describes her as malicious after her promiscuity. This mutual understanding between men turns into disdain and mockery towards women. However, in reality, this one woman sees through their filthiness and weakness, displaying a strong side. Despite this, she does not speak out about everything in her testimony, continuing to appear as a victim of humiliation and injustice. Perhaps she is unable or afraid to speak the truth. Akira Kurosawa's arrangement may be intended to express the continued low status of Japanese women and the dominance of male power in the early 1950s. However, the awakening consciousness is gradually awakening in the hearts of women, just as the woman in this film realizes the samurai's weakness and incompetence at the final moment.

At the same time, from a historical perspective, the early 1950s in Japan were a period of transition between the old and new right-wing factions during the Showa period after the war. The film begins with a heavy rain, narrated by a monk and a woodcutter, describing the political background of that time - chaos, turmoil, and people's suffering. There should be a clear distinction between a samurai and a bandit. However, throughout the entire film, we witness the samurai's cowardice, dishonesty, cruelty, apathy, and disdain towards his wife. Even though the bandit commits a heinous act, he does not deny his crimes from the start. When the woman is humiliated by the samurai, he remarks, "Don't treat her like that; women are not men. Their uncontrollable crying is a sign of their vulnerability." Although there is an element of male dominance in this, compared to the cowardly samurai, the clear contrast between the true villain and the false gentleman allows viewers to understand from the bottom of their hearts that Akira Kurosawa intends to reveal and satirize the spirit of Bushido, which was already extinct in Japan at that time, and even inferior to a mountain bandit.

At the end of the film, the rain stops, and although the sky is still covered with thick clouds, there is finally a golden sunlight shining through. In the faint sunlight, the woodcutter slowly walks away with an abandoned newborn, and the monk finally sees the sincere side of human nature that still exists. After narrating the long 80-minute story of human weakness and deception, Kurosawa gives everyone a beautiful hope in the end.

Upon reflection, where there is vulnerability, deception often lurks. However, where does weakness come from? Tracing back, the robber, in the initial recounting of his fabricated tale, uttered these words: "Just a gentle breeze. If it weren't for that breeze, perhaps that man wouldn't have died." Yes, it was that breeze. It lifted the veil of the woman on horseback, rustling her delicate skirt. In an instant, he glimpsed her white ankle and her beautiful face hidden beneath the veil. And then, everything changed. It was merely a gentle breeze that stirred his most primal desire, triggering weakness in everyone's hearts and constructing the illusions each person tried to convey through falsehoods. In the deepest part of human hearts, how many dark and unspeakable secrets are buried? Underneath the dim and dilapidated Rashomon gate, a place even ghosts fear, the truth is revealed under the gentle sunlight.

The gentle breeze persists, blowing wave after wave, akin to endless desires. How long will it take for the dark Rashomon gate within every heart to clear up? Perhaps this is another question that Akira Kurosawa leaves us with in the film.