SEVEN SAMURAI (Akira Kurosawa, Japan, 1954)

Seven Samurai (Credit: Alamy)

I love movies. They represent escapism, art, intellect, and spirituality. Some are nothing more than popcorn flicks, designed to ease the burden of “real life” for a couple of hours. Others bring important issues to the forefront, challenging how we perceive our surroundings. The most important thing for me—if one is a serious filmgoer—is to constantly expand and discover new movies. This includes experiencing stories told outside of North America.

Yes, I know: “I don’t like to read while I watch movies.” Well, neither do I, but I won’t let that prevent me from finding a great story on the screen. It is important, as human beings, to discover other cultures and expand our perceptions of those different from us—to understand how they see the world. There’s a reason Bergman, Kurosawa, Fellini, Ozu, and Truffaut are giants in the film world—they are simply great at what they do.

I intend to highlight a film considered “foreign-language”—a definition that is simple yet broad and complex. For example, if you need subtitles to understand the plot, I’ll discuss it. If it’s a film from a primarily English-speaking nation but is not in English (e.g., Léolo or Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner from Canada), I’ll discuss it. However, if it’s a film from outside the U.S. but in English, I won’t cover it (sorry, Brits & Aussies)—for now. My goal is to shed light on these cinematic gems and help satisfy the insatiable appetites of those who crave new films. Enjoy!

Seven Samurai

Dir: Akira Kurosawa

Japan – 1954

Whenever I have the chance to introduce a foreign-language film to a “foreign-film virgin,” this is the one I always choose. In my opinion, Kurosawa’s sweeping epic is Ground Zero for those looking to venture beyond North American cinema for the first time. To me, this is Japan’s answer to Casablanca—a masterpiece that is both artful and entertaining, containing universal themes of love, respect, morality, community, and the passion of the individual spirit. It also kicks serious ass. Samurai! Who doesn’t love watching samurai go sword-crazy on their enemies?

Some filmmakers just have “it”—that intangible quality that allows them to craft a story or see the world through a unique lens, presenting us with something truly original. Spielberg has it. Welles had it. Scorsese has it. Hitchcock had it. Charlie Kaufman and David Mamet have it. Japan’s Akira Kurosawa was born with “it.” It’s virtually impossible to find a bad movie with his name attached. Even his lesser works surpass most films released today. In my mind, there are very few “perfect” movies—some directors are lucky to make one. Kurosawa made four: The Seven Samurai, Rashomon, Yojimbo, and Ikiru. His other acclaimed films—Ran, The Hidden Fortress, and The Bad Sleep Well—are also remarkable. But Seven Samurai is, was, and continues to be the master’s magnum opus.

The story takes place in feudal Japan. Villages are ransacked by pillagers who exploit women and steal rice and crops. A villager learns that bandits have just raided a neighboring community and are heading their way. The village, already struggling, faces an existential threat. They gather on the dry land, debating how to respond: Should they surrender some crops? Burn them? Hide their wives and daughters? Or even kill them—sparing them the horror of rape?

One radical suggestion changes everything: Hire samurai to protect the village. The risks are immense—samurai are expensive, unpredictable, and dangerous. They are warriors with needs, surrounded by vulnerable villagers. But what choice is there? Kill or be killed—or, as Hamlet says, “To be or not to be.” They resolve to hire samurai, offering only a handful of rice per day as payment—rice they can barely spare.

This is a brilliant narrative stroke. Who would risk their lives for a meager handful of rice? As Roger Ebert noted in his Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon review, the best martial arts films aren’t about fighting—they’re about personal excellence. The samurai who take this job aren’t motivated by money or glory but by challenge. Observe how each is introduced, showcasing their skills. Their camaraderie stems from their desire to be better warriors. One shaves his head like a priest before rescuing a hostage. Another follows a mentor, aspiring to greatness. A third poses as a samurai to escape his impoverished past.

Another theme is the nature of societal roles. Bandits pillage. Samurai protect. Villagers fear both. Samurai and villagers cannot coexist—their social castes forbid it (notice how villagers always move in groups, never alone). A subplot involves a forbidden romance between a young samurai and a village girl—ironically, the same girl whose father fears she’ll be raped by bandits. Their love is doomed; they are bound by the roles society imposes.

Kurosawa adored John Ford’s films, so he needed his own John Wayne. He had two: Takashi Shimura (the wise leader, Kambei) and Toshiro Mifune (the swaggering impostor, whose presence would put T.I. to shame). Both starred in nearly every Kurosawa film for 18 years and are essential to Seven Samurai. Shimura’s calm strategist contrasts perfectly with Mifune’s impulsiveness.

At 207 minutes (with an intermission), the film flies by because its story is clear and compelling. Kambei devises a plan to defeat the 40 bandits systematically. Kurosawa may be the greatest action director ever—a master of “human tides,” where masses surge across the screen. Unlike today’s shaky-cam chaos, Kurosawa’s camera pans fluidly, tracking action in deep focus to show battles in both foreground and background.

Many consider Seven Samurai the first “team mission” film, inspiring The Dirty Dozen and The Guns of Navarone. If the plot sounds familiar, that’s because it is—this is the film that inspired The Magnificent Seven.

The irony? Seven Samurai borrows from Westerns, yet it revitalized the genre—despite being made in Japan. Kurosawa loved Westerns, citing John Ford as an influence (as most great directors do). But Kurosawa elevated Ford’s breathtaking landscapes and conflicted heroes. Between Seven Samurai, Yojimbo (remade as A Fistful of Dollars, birthing Spaghetti Westerns), and The Hidden Fortress (George Lucas’ inspiration for Star Wars), Kurosawa may be the father of modern action cinema. Ebert theorized that Kambei’s hostage rescue might be the first “heroic intro” scene—a trope now standard in action films.

Not all samurai survive. Such is their fate. The villagers will no longer need them, so they’ll be outcasts again—men of violence disrupt order. Seven Samurai marks a shift in Kurosawa’s work: His earlier films emphasized conformity and teamwork, but here, rebels and individualism take center stage—a more Western philosophy. The final shots of the young samurai and the village girl are telling: He stands between his comrades and the villagers, torn between duty and desire.

The Seven Samurai is a rare perfect film—one with something for everyone, yet never dumbed down. Its exploration of universal themes makes it timeless. You can view it as a smart action film or a thoughtful drama with action. If its length intimidates you, watch it in two sittings, treating it like a miniseries. If there’s one film to launch you into foreign cinema (though, really, there’s no such genre—just great dramas, action films, comedies, etc., in other languages), you can’t go wrong with Kurosawa’s masterpiece.

I hope you enjoy it.

Toshiro Mifune as Kikuchiyo in 1954's Seven Samurai. Columbia Pictures via Alamy

If you have comments, feel free to email me at lenwortharchibald@outlook.com!