Maybe it's because Takeshi Kitano moved me to near tears with "Hana-Bi", or maybe it's because the Japanese always have a smiling face even when they've been fired and lost a relative, it might be whatever you want, but I have always been fascinated by Eastern cinema. It's not better or worse than American cinema (perhaps it's just a bit more independent), but there is always something about these Eastern films that makes me jump on the couch and shout masterpiece. Think about "The Killer" by John Woo: it was a continuous series of deaths and killings, but it had a strength, a rhythm, an energy that almost annihilated you after two hours. And the amazing thing was that no special effects were used.

However, Eastern cinema, despite all the fondness I have for Kitano and Woo, has noble and ancient origins. Among the most famous Japanese directors, precursors of a cinema today universally loved and recognized, are at least Yasujiro Ozu, Kenji Mizoguchi, Kon Ichikawa, Akira Kurosawa. Of these, the most famous and talented was Akira Kurosawa. An extraordinary director, capable of spanning genres, brilliant at inventing film techniques later widely exploited ("Rashomon" teaches), unsurpassed in blending the ancient and modern. Much loved abroad, scarcely considered in his homeland, he attempted suicide in 1970 after an uncharitable commercial flop. Someone up there loves him, and death is postponed. It will come in 1998 when Kurosawa is an 88-year-old gentleman.

Among his most beautiful films, it's impossible not to mention "Dersu Uzala", "Kagemusha", "Ran", but the one that made him famous was "The Seven Samurai", a 1954 masterpiece, consistently topping all lists of the best films in the world.

When talking about "The Seven Samurai" you never quite know where to begin. Telling the story is trivial, extolling its virtues even more so. But this film is exceptional because, even though it's now 53 years old, it maintains a freshness and elegance that would make any Hollywood producer envious. After all, the story itself is nothing special: a village threatened by some bandits decides to seek the help of seven samurai to defend and fight the enemies. Nothing to it, except that Kurosawa spices each scene with a special touch: the massive scenes are so ordered and precise that they served as inspiration for all subsequent films made in the USA; the slow-motion techniques are legendary even today (sword strikes, falls into mud); each sequence should be dissected second by second to fully understand it. And then there's a fundamental underlying discourse: more than anything, the film represents the clash of predominant cultures, that of the simple rural folk and that of the weapons. The medieval culture intertwines with the modern one, the wisdom of the great words of the old sages and the inexperience of the young eager to fight and enter History.

So, an adventure film, but with the step of legend. Each samurai has its own character, and each samurai represents a virtue as one finds in the most typical Japanese iconoclasm: wisdom, cunning, individuality, generosity, slyness, concentration. But also the redemption of a life (exemplary, in this case, is the character played by an extraordinary Toshiro Mifune), the greatness of a civilization straddling tradition and innovation, the epic spirit of battles that will be passed down from generation to generation, the underlying disillusionment (memorable are the words spoken by the old leader of the samurai after the victory over the outlaws: "Once again we have lost... the real winners are them"), the fight against the slavery of the strongest, and a powerful message of freedom and desire to live.

Within "The Seven Samurai" are centuries upon centuries of Japanese history, but there is also Kurosawa's greatness in knowing how to manage and construct a film: the various narrative registers are almost perfect, continuity between and scenes of mass and intimate sequences, a classic language similar to No theater (prologue, story of the facts, details, solution, final scene, epilogue). So much so that the Americans, envious of such success, decided to plagiarize it a few years later (to be honest, they didn't do too badly) and made "The Magnificent Seven".

If Japan is a bit less unknown to us Westerners, we owe it also and above all to this masterpiece, a worthy pioneer of so many action movies that today resonate in our brains. To be honest, it would have sufficed to write the word 'epic' under the title. It would have been enough.

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