novelraw Chapter 142: "Seven Samurai" Preparation! The Shocked Kurosawa Eiji's Bow!
Chapter 142: "Seven Samurai" Preparation! The Shocked Kurosawa Eiji's Bow!
And so Nohara Hiroshi came to Asumi's office.
In the office, there was none of the busyness and clamor he anticipated belonging to senior management.
There was only Asumi alone, sitting quietly behind that large desk.
In front of him, there were no mountains of documents, only a brand-new script that had been flipped through countless times, its corners already slightly curled.
And a stack of manga storyboard manuscripts as thick as a brick.
Hearing the sound of the door opening, Asumi abruptly raised his head, smiling with pleasant surprise: "Hiroshi-kun! You've finally returned!"
Asumi directly popped up from his seat and quickly went to welcome him. His face was full of undisguised ecstasy and excitement: "You guy... you guy... are you truly planning to force all of us old geezers to a dead end before you're satisfied?"
This opening remark full of "complaint" carried more weight than any words of praise.
Nohara Hiroshi merely smiled calmly. Sitting down on the guest sofa, his posture leisurely: "Deputy Director Asumi, it seems, you have already read it."
"Read it?!" Asumi let out a long breath: "I have more than just read it! These past few days, aside from sleeping and eating, I spent the remaining time reading it! Once, twice, three times... I even brought it home, and had my daughter who is in high school read it once too!" He paused. On that elegant face, a strange, dumbfounded expression surfaced: "Do you know? My daughter, who usually only knows how to chase idols and read shoujo manga, after finishing reading it, hugged our Shiba Inu that we've raised for almost ten years, and cried for a whole night. When going out this morning, she even had red eyes as she told me, 'Dad, you must film this story! You must!'"
Hearing this, the smile on Nohara Hiroshi's face grew deeper: "It seems, your esteemed daughter is a very kind girl."
"This is no longer a matter of being kind!" Asumi sat back in his seat. He looked at Nohara Hiroshi, increasingly deeply moved: "Hiroshi-kun, you... you tell me honestly, how on earth did you come up with this story?!"
He pointed at that script, his voice becoming somewhat hoarse due to extreme excitement: "Loyalty! I know the core of this story is 'loyalty'! This... this is simply the most perfect spiritual totem tailor-made for our nation, which upholds the 'spirit of Bushido' as its guiding principle!"
"Moreover, the background of the story was actually placed in modern times! Placed in the place we are most familiar with, Shibuya Station! This... this is simply a stroke of genius!"
Light flickered in Asumi's eyes: "Did you know, the Tokyo Metropolitan Government recently has been working on some promotional plan for a 'Greater Tokyo Metropolitan Area'? They are currently worried about not finding a promotional entry point that can showcase our Tokyo's modernization without losing the human touch! This story of yours is simply... someone handing a pillow when one is sleepy! As long as we report this project up, let alone promotional resources, I am even confident I can apply for a sizable 'cultural promotion' special fund from the municipal government's side!"
This was not blowing his own trumpet.
But because Asumi truly understood this aspect, he dared to speak with such absolute certainty.
"Deputy Director, you praise me too much."
Nohara Hiroshi merely listened calmly, carrying a bit of perfectly appropriate humility: "Actually, this story wasn't originally created by me either. It's just a legend I heard from the elders in the village back in my hometown Akita Prefecture when I was young. Couple that with our Akita Prefecture already being abundant in producing Akita Inus, my feelings toward this canine breed, can be considered... to have a bit of special emotion."
And Nohara Hiroshi also asked: "Then this script, I feel our Production Bureau can probably bring it into the production approval process now, right?"
Only Asumi fell silent.
The excitement on his face gradually faded, replaced by a kind of prudence.
His tone also carried worry.
These were also some worries Asumi had thought of himself these past few days.
"Hiroshi-kun, the script is god-tier, the creativity is invincible. But..." He looked at Nohara Hiroshi. In those elegant eyes, flashed a trace of deep anxiety: "Have you thought about how massive the difficulty in executing this project is?"
"The protagonist, is a dog."
He pointed at that script, his voice carrying helplessness: "Dogs do not have lines. All its emotions, all its performances, can only be conveyed through its eyes and actions. This... this poses an almost impossible demand on the director's skill, the control of cinematography, and even the innate intelligence of the dog itself!"
"We are not filming a cartoon like 'Tom and Jerry'! We are shooting a movie! How could a dog that can't speak support a movie that is two hours long? The audience... will they really buy it?"
Asumi's worries were not unfounded.
This was a fatal difficulty that almost all filmmakers would encounter when facing "animal subjects."
However, Nohara Hiroshi merely smiled calmly. In that smile was still his absolute confidence.
"Deputy Director, rest assured." His voice wasn't loud, but it acted like a heavy hammer, fiercely striking onto Asumi's heart full of doubts: "Regarding the casting of 'Hachiko', I already have some preliminary ideas. As for the filming..."
He pointed at that stack of manga storyboard manuscripts as thick as a brick on the desk. The corners of his mouth curled into a calm and indifferent smile belonging to a chess player.
"I assure you, as long as it's executed strictly according to the contents on here, what we film will not be a simple animal movie. It will be an epic movie about 'love' and 'waiting', highlighting 'loyalty', sufficient to move anyone who still possesses any warmth."
Nohara Hiroshi was truly very confident.
The results from his past life had already proven the success of this script.
And now.
He merely needed to reproduce it.
"This..." Asumi looked at this man before him who, although young, had already possessed kingly spirit sufficient to overlook the entire era. That heart already full of trust was at this moment drawn tight like a fully drawn bowstring.
He was hesitating.
He was also pondering, perhaps this could be another new miracle created by Nohara Hiroshi.
But...
"Sigh..."
Asumi let out a long breath. In that breath was still extreme helplessness.
"Hiroshi-kun, I believe you. But, the Board of Directors over there... I'm afraid they won't believe."
He rubbed between his eyebrows. On that elegant face, surfaced a deep weariness: "Do you know, movie projects and those television dramas and variety shows we previously worked on are completely different concepts."
"With television dramas and animation, no matter how bad the viewership rating is, we could always shove them into the late-night slot, or sell them to those small local stations to recoup a little capital. But movies, it's a one-time deal! Once the cinema circuits don't view it favorably, and the audience doesn't buy it, those several hundred millions thrown in, will truly be... all gone without a return!"
"In this place of ours, if a project fails, someone has to step forward and bear the responsibility."
As he spoke, a trace of imperceptible complexity and pity belonging to an experienced person flashed in those elegant eyes: "My position as Deputy Director, although it sounds glamorous, under my buttocks is similarly a pot of scalding hot oil. Taking one wrong step means eternal damnation."
These were already heart-to-heart words.
He knew Asumi was truly bearing heaven-shaking risks for him, for this project.
"Deputy Director, I..." Just as he was preparing to speak, to say something sufficient to let the other party rest assured.
"Knock, knock, knock——"
A burst of crisp, rhythmic knocking, untimely, tore through the tranquility filled with a solemn atmosphere.
"Please come in." Asumi frowned.
He didn't like being interrupted.
The door was pushed open.
A figure, like an unsheathed samurai sword, carrying a kind of unyielding character belonging to an artisan of the old era, appeared in the doorway.
It was none other than the master who was once known as the "Soul of the Samurai" in the Japanese movie industry — Kurosawa Eiji.
"Asumi, your place here... is quite lively."
Kurosawa Eiji's gaze calmly swept over the two men with different expressions in the office, and ultimately landed on that young man who was smiling, nodding at him, and standing up to bow to him.
"Director Kurosawa?!" Asumi was thoroughly stunned: "You... why have you come?"
He knew that Kurosawa Eiji had still been polishing his movie just a few days ago.
"Can I not come?"
Kurosawa Eiji didn't pay attention to him.
He merely sized his paces, walking to the front of that young man.
He didn't speak, only using those eyes that had seen countless vicissitudes of the world, carefully sizing up this young man before him who had stirred up the winds and clouds of the entire Japanese television industry.
There was a color of desolation in his eyes.
"Nohara-kun."
He slowly opened his mouth. The voice was hoarse, but carried the weight of a thunderbolt: "I heard, you've returned from your vacation. This old geezer of mine, recently encountered a bit of a problem, and wanted to find you to... chat about scripts."
These words acted like a real atomic bomb, exploding loudly in Asumi's mind!
He blankly looked at this scene full of magical realism before him. That heart already full of shock was at this moment thoroughly submerged by a more absurd, almost unreal feeling!
Kurosawa Eiji!
That national-treasure-level master whom even he, the Deputy Director, had to treat courteously and respectfully address as "Director Kurosawa"!
That stubborn old man renowned for his "arrogance" and "paranoia" throughout the entire Japanese movie industry!
Now, unexpectedly... took the initiative to come to the door, looking for a young man smaller than his grandson, to "chat about scripts"?
This... this was no longer simply "valuing highly"!
This was clearly equal, mutual appreciation belonging to creators of the same level!
...
"Senior Kurosawa and I... chat about scripts?"
Nohara Hiroshi's heart shook slightly. In his trademark gentle smile on his face, an appropriately placed trace of surprise was added.
Of course he knew who Kurosawa Eiji was.
This man, almost equivalent to a "living legend" in the Japanese movie industry, those samurai movies full of tragic aesthetic he had filmed had long become a cultural symbol of an era, deeply branded in the memory of a generation.
But precisely because of this, Nohara Hiroshi felt even more puzzled.
In his view, Kurosawa Eiji was like a majestic sculpture full of classical aesthetic, long sealed in amber by time.
And himself, was more like an unruly wild child accustomed to using the most modern Lego blocks to build a bizarre new world.
Two people from entirely different eras, with two entirely different creative concepts, how could they... intersect?
"Hahaha! Director Kurosawa! You truly are a... rare guest!"
Before Nohara Hiroshi could open his mouth, Asumi beside him already acted like the most enthusiastic host, stepping up to welcome him first.
He personally pulled out that individual sofa symbolizing the status of a distinguished guest for Kurosawa Eiji, then nimbly took out top-grade Gyokuro from his treasured tea canister, and carefully brewed it using a set of bone china teaware that looked immensely valuable at a glance.
"Deputy Director, don't engage in these vain formalities."
Kurosawa Eiji merely waved his hand impatiently. On his face was written the straightforwardness and helplessness belonging to an artisan of the old era: "I truly came to seek guidance from Nohara-kun."
He used the term "seek guidance".
"Nohara-kun." Kurosawa Eiji's hoarse voice slowly spoke, getting straight to the point: "Coming here today, I'm not here for anything else, just want you to... help me take a look at this."
As he spoke, he heavily placed a kraft paper file bag that looked somewhat aged onto the coffee table, emitting a muffled thud.
On it, written in handwriting already somewhat faded, were a few large words full of power——
"Samurai in the Blacksmith Shop".
Nohara Hiroshi looked at those few words, then looked at Kurosawa Eiji's expression full of exhaustion, his heart becoming increasingly surprised.
But thinking about it, he could also guess that this "Soul of the Samurai" in the movie circle, was probably encountering a creative bottleneck.
"Director Kurosawa, you're too polite."
Nohara Hiroshi stood up with a smile, his posture very low, but not fawning: "Your works, I grew up watching them, every single one is a timeless classic. I am a junior with shallow knowledge, where do I have the qualifications to point fingers at your script."
"Cut the crap." Kurosawa Eiji's brows furrowed deeper. He pointed at the opposite sofa: "Sit down, watch."
Seeing this, Asumi hurriedly carried the freshly brewed tea to smooth things over: "Aiyaya, Director Kurosawa, please don't be too impatient. Hiroshi-kun just returned from his hometown, exhausted from the journey, must let him drink a mouthful of tea and catch his breath first, right?"
As he spoke, he handed a cup of steaming fragrant tea to Nohara Hiroshi, and at an angle the other two couldn't see, mischievously blinked at him.
The meaning in that look was obvious——"This stubborn old man just has this foul temper, bear with him a bit more. However, being able to make him personally come to the door to ask for guidance, you kid, can be considered our Kanto Faction's unique face card!"
"Alright." Of course, Nohara Hiroshi also understood Kurosawa Eiji's temper.
He smiled and took the teacup, sat down on that soft sofa, and then unhurriedly picked up that script bearing the confusion of a master.
He didn't immediately turn open the pages, but first glanced at Kurosawa Eiji.
This old man, although his spine remained straight, deep in those sharp eyes, hid a trace of the desolation of an aging hero that even he himself had not noticed.
In Nohara Hiroshi's heart, a trace of mutual appreciation belonging between creators unexpectedly arose.
He no longer exchanged conventional pleasantries, merely calmly opening that script.
The story was very simple, and very "Kurosawa Eiji".
A lowly young man who grew up in a blacksmith shop, yet his heart burned with an unrealistic dream of becoming a true samurai.
Through a coincidence, he saved a down-and-out samurai who was severely injured and on the verge of death.
After burying the samurai, possessed by ghosts and gods, he put on that armor symbolizing status and honor, equipped that sharp, deadly katana, replaced the identity of that dead man, and embarked on an adventure full of lies and glory.
Relying on a burst of reckless courage like a newborn calf not fearing a tiger, and a mass of brute strength honed from the blacksmith shop, he unexpectedly truly stumbled his way to exterminating a gang of mountain bandits plaguing the countryside, gained the appreciation of a cowardly local lord, and was treated as an honored guest.
Up to here, the story could still be considered a standard hot-blooded underdog story.
However, the reason why Kurosawa Eiji was Kurosawa Eiji, was because he always disdained telling a simple fairy tale.
In the latter half of the story, the style suddenly changed.
That seemingly cowardly lord actually hated the samurai class to the bone.
Because his parents had died in a turmoil caused by samurai of the chaotic times.
His appreciation of the protagonist was merely wanting to use him, this seemingly sharp "sword", to help him resist the invasion of another, more powerful group of samurai from an enemy state.
Ultimately, in that brutal siege battle, the protagonist led a group of ashigaru inspired by his fake "spirit of Bushido", fought bloody battles until almost completely wiped out, yet successfully delayed the最 precious time for the lord.
And just when the enemy samurai breached the city gates, believing victory was in sight, atop the city walls, that seemingly cowardly lord revealed a sinister smile.
Behind him, a whole row of "teppo", exuding the cold aura of death, bought with a heavy price from Tanegashima merchants, aimed at those already exhausted samurai below the walls.
"Bang——!"
Accompanied by a gunshot that tore through the sky, the story abruptly stopped.
The era of the samurai ends beneath firearms.
Using a tragedy full of deception and betrayal, to announce the curtain call of an era.
"...Phew."
Nohara Hiroshi slowly closed the script, exhaling a long breath. He felt it was okay.
"How is it?" In Kurosawa Eiji's voice, carried a trace of imperceptible nervousness.
"Very brilliant." Nohara Hiroshi gave the most objective evaluation: "Especially the reversal at the end, it can be called a stroke of genius. Using the appearance of firearms to symbolize the end of an old era, this technique of seeing the big picture through a small lens is full of your unique tragic and solemn aesthetic."
"Yes, yes!" Asumi beside him also hurriedly nodded in agreement. Looking at Kurosawa Eiji, he said: "Director Kurosawa, with this script of yours, I dare guarantee, as long as it's filmed, the box office will absolutely surpass one billion yen!"
However, facing the praise of these two people, on Kurosawa Eiji's weather-beaten face surfaced an even heavier bitterness.
"One billion?"
He laughed self-deprecatingly. In that laughter, was full of helplessness: "Asumi, both you and I know clearly in our hearts. Out of this one billion, eight hundred million is for these three characters 'Kurosawa Eiji'. If we changed to an unknown director to shoot, if this story could have four or five hundred million in box office, it would already be considered burning high incense (a great blessing)."
He looked at Nohara Hiroshi. In those slightly murky eyes, for the first time, revealed a trace of confusion belonging to a creator.
"Nohara-kun, to tell you the truth. Without hiding it from you, I've revised this script no less than ten times. Every time, I feel that it... is still not enough."
"It's too flat." He lightly tapped that script with his knuckles, his voice carrying a heartache of expecting better: "Although, I added a reversal, added a deconstruction of the spirit of Bushido. But its core is still that same set—classes, strata, samurai, lords, peasants, mountain bandits... these things, I have filmed for a lifetime, talked about for a lifetime. The audience, is already tired of it. Even I myself, am almost writing to the point of throwing up."
"I always feel, it... it is missing something. Missing a little bit of something new that could truly sting this era. But I... I truly cannot think of it anymore."
This giant, who had ruled the Japanese movie industry for half a century, at this moment, unexpectedly acted like a lost child. In those sharp eyes, only lingering exhaustion and confusion remained.
Nohara Hiroshi quietly listened, and that respect belonging to a junior in his heart grew increasingly profound.
He knew this old man was not pursuing the box office.
He was pursuing an artistic self-breakthrough sufficient to convince even himself.
And his own mind, that massive treasure trove of cinematic art belonging to his past life on Earth, which had slumbered for a long time, was also thoroughly awakened at this moment by Kurosawa Eiji's pure pursuit of art.
He thought of that immortal epic, which was also about the decline of the samurai class, a much grander and profounder immortal epic——"Seven Samurai"!
He thought of that Kikuchiyo full of tragic colors, who also came from a peasant background, yet used his own actions to annotate what a "true samurai" was.
He even more so thought of those classic lines sufficient to be recorded in film history, full of irony and insight, regarding the subtle yet cruel symbiotic relationship between "samurai" and "peasants."
"What do you take peasants for, do you think they're bodhisattvas?"
Nohara Hiroshi picked up the teacup, gently took a sip, and with a volume almost akin to sleeptalking that only he himself could hear, he slowly spat out those lines already known by heart:
"...It's simply a joke. Peasants are the most cunning. Ask for rice and they don't give it, ask for barley and they say they have none. Actually, they have it all, they have everything. Look under the floorboards, if it's not underground then it's in the storeroom, you'll definitely find lots of things. Rice, salt, beans, sake... Go look deep in the valleys, there are hidden rice paddies!"
"They appear loyal and honest on the surface, but are the most skilled at lying. No matter what, they will lie! Once a war breaks out, they go kill the defeated soldiers and steal their weapons. Listen here, so-called peasants are the stingiest, most cunning, cowardly, malicious, low-ability, murdering demons!"
"But wait, who made them become like this?"
"It's you, it's you samurai! You can all go to hell! Burning villages for war, ravaging the fields, arbitrarily forcing corvée labor, humiliating women, killing those who resist. What do you expect the peasants to do? What should they do!"
These words were truly too classic.
Highlighted class conflict.
Rebutted stereotypes.
Also produced a reversal after victory.
Nohara Hiroshi couldn't help but say these lines. Even though his voice was very light, light like a feather, quietly falling into this solidified air.
However, it was just these few light and fluttering words that acted like a shocking thunder tearing through an eternal dark night, fiercely striking into Kurosawa Eiji's already dried-up sea of inspiration!
"!!!"
Kurosawa Eiji's body jerked violently!
Those eyes of his that were already somewhat murky, at this moment, unexpectedly uncontrollably erupted with a terrifying burst of light sufficient to ignite the entire room!
Like a slumbering male lion instantly awakened, he took a step forward. Those large hands covered in age spots yet still possessing strength, unexpectedly disregarded everything, deathly gripping onto Nohara Hiroshi's arm!
"You... what did you... just say?!"
His voice, because of extreme shock and excitement, became somewhat hoarse. Those sharp eyes stared fixedly at Nohara Hiroshi, as if trying to see through his entire person!
"Say it again! The words you just said! Say it again!"
"Director Kurosawa! You..."
Asumi was also thoroughly startled by this sudden, almost out-of-control action of his.
He even thought they had started quarreling.
He hurriedly stepped forward, attempting to separate the two: "Calm down! Calm down, Director Kurosawa!"
"It's fine, Deputy Director Asumi." However, Nohara Hiroshi merely raised a hand, signaling him to be patient.
He looked at this master before him, who because of an unintentional remark, had thoroughly plunged into creative fanaticism. On that handsome face also surfaced a helpless, dumbfounded expression.
He knew, he seemed... to have accidentally poked a hole in the heavens.
"Director Kurosawa, don't get excited first." His voice acted like a clear spring, instantly smoothing the agitation in the old man's heart: "Just now, I merely... suddenly had a bit, of an immature idea."
"What idea?! Speak quickly!" In Kurosawa Eiji's eyes, two clusters of raging flames burned!
He knew!
He knew this young man, he definitely... definitely found that brand-new answer he himself had bitterly pursued for half his life yet was always unable to touch!
Nohara Hiroshi looked at his eyes full of anticipation and longing, then looked at Asumi beside him with a face similarly full of shock and curiosity, ultimately, he exhaled a long breath.
He knew, some things, once ignited, could never be extinguished again.
So saying it out loud was totally fine.
"My idea, is very simple."
He slowly spoke: "Why do we absolutely have to place the focus of the story on a 'fake samurai'? Why, can't it be... a group, of real samurai?"
He paused. Under the gazes of those two people who had already been shocked beyond measure by his shocking remarks, he slowly tossed out that brand new concept sufficient to overturn the entire Japanese movie history.
"A story... about seven samurai, representing seven different personalities, yet because of their personalities, generated different endings... an almost karmic story."
"..."
The entire office instantly plunged into an eerie silence where one could hear a pin drop.
Asumi blankly looked at that young man. The elegance on his face had already solidified, leaving only a kind of horror.
What did this guy's monster brain think of again!?
And Kurosawa Eiji, this master who had ruled the Japanese movie industry for half a century, at this moment, finally slowly released that hand tightly gripping the young man's arm.
Then, under Asumi's unbelievable, almost as if seeing a ghost gaze.
He, facing that young man smaller than his grandson, deeply, deeply, bent his waist.
A standard ninety-degree bow full of respect and seeking knowledge!
"Nohara-kun!"
His voice was no longer hoarse, no longer confused, but full of loud and clear resonance like surviving a disaster!
"Please... please make sure to, tell me your ideas!"
"I beg you!"
This, in Japanese etiquette, an old man in his sixties bowing to a young man in his twenties.
Was an action already abandoning face, abandoning dignity;
speaking of it would result in social death and ridicule!
But this also demonstrated Kurosawa Eiji's determination.
Nohara Hiroshi pursed his lips slightly.
Still nodded and said: "Alright."
If the TV Tokyo Board of Directors didn't trust him to be able to film movies, then it would be better to prove himself by helping Director Kurosawa Eiji film "Seven Samurai"!
(End of Chapter)