RASHOMON

'Rashomon' and its director, Akira Kurosawa, are critics' darlings, and it's easy to see why. 'Rashomon' is extraordinary in its willingness to make the audience think for themselves. It is highly odd and original (especially by 1950's standards, when it was made). It is complex and ambitious while playing on the surface as a rather simple tale of the lies humans tell. And it is shot majestically by cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa.

Unfortunately, 'Rashomon' is also incredibly slow at times when the story practically begs to play faster, is acted in a style very foreign to American ears (and though some complain that it is 'bad' acting, I truly believe it's another style entirely), and plays far more to the intellect than to the emotions. These things, only some valid complaints, have made 'Rashomon' a film snob's secret instead of part of the fabric of our moviegoing culture.

The story in the film is actually four versions of the story of how a samurai was killed in the woods. Four people (including a medium channeling the dead man's take on the events) relate their tales, and no two versions are the same. As listeners within the film try to decide who and what to believe in the absence of any evidence, the audience at home must make the same choice. Kurosawa broadens that decision to include whether man can be trusted at all, and this is in part why 'Rashomon' sticks with an audience long after memories of any swordfight have gone.

'Rashomon' is not the pinnacle of film achievement we occasionally hear that it is, but it isn't a dated relic without relavance to the average American, either. Certainly any person even remotely interested in excellent camera work should buy and study a copy, but even casual film fans will find it a memorable experience. If you think you'd like to see it, you most likely will - but your mind may thank you more than your heart.

MAYBE SO (7/10)