novelraw Chapter 157: Your Excellency Fujiwara! It IS Nohara Hiroshi!
Chapter 157: Your Excellency Fujiwara! It IS Nohara Hiroshi!
On Fujiwara Hideaki's face that was always as calm as water, finally surfaced an undisguised shock!
He looked at Kurosawa Eiji's face written full of magnanimity and pride, then looked at that young man who from beginning to end merely smiled calmly. That heart which had long been tempered as hard as a rock by countless power struggles, suddenly felt submerged by an absurd feeling close to being unreal!
A master who had been enshrined as a god for half a century in the Nippon film industry, would unexpectedly willingly act as background for a young man who had just emerged?
This was already not something that could be explained by simple "supporting juniors".
Fujiwara Hideaki was after all Fujiwara Hideaki.
In those eyes of his that had seen countless ups and downs of worldly affairs, all the astonishment was instantly replaced by an even deeper exploration.
He and Kurosawa Eiji had known each other for decades, he understood too clearly this old friend's stinky temper that was harder than a samurai sword.
Being able to make him say these words, could only prove one thing —— this movie named "Seven Samurai", definitely had something beyond his imagination.
"Okay." Fujiwara Hideaki slowly nodded his head, not questioning further.
He merely calmly pressed the internal phone button on his desk, his voice carrying an indifference of someone who has occupied a high position for a long time: "Ask the committee members of the First Review Room to all come over, start the screening." He turned his head, looking at those two directors with different expressions, a meaningful arc hooking up at the corner of his mouth: "Kurosawa, Nohara-kun, I am also very curious. You two, exactly what kind of 'surprise' have you prepared for me."
Not long after, over twenty middle-aged men wearing crisp suits and solemn expressions entered in single file.
They were the most core review committee members of "Eirin", the true judges holding the life and death power of all movies in Nippon.
Every single one of them, had been immersed in their respective fields for decades, with sharp eyes and picky tastes.
When they saw in the review room, besides the legendary Director Kurosawa, unexpectedly there was also a young face that was excessively young, on those unsmiling faces involuntarily surfaced a trace of confusion.
However, when the heavy soundproof doors of the review room slowly closed, the indoor lights completely extinguished, and on that massive screen, those three characters of the title "Seven Samurai" full of a sense of power were projected, all the confusion and scrutiny, at that instant, were thoroughly submerged by an even deeper tragic aura full of a sense of destiny.
The movie began.
No gorgeous opening, no passionate soundtrack.
Only a land devastated and riddled with scars by the flames of war, and a group of farmers in ragged clothes, their eyes full of numbness and despair.
They acted like a group of captive livestock, shivering under the iron hooves of the bandits, contributing their rations which were already pitifully little.
The scene was so oppressive it made people unable to catch their breath.
In the review room, a few committee members accustomed to commercial blockbusters, had already subconsciously frowned.
However, when that down-and-out samurai with a Sakayaki hairstyle, his eyes carrying a few parts of seeing through the vicissitudes of worldly affairs —— Shimada Kambei, appeared in the scene, the air in the entire review room, seemingly at that instant was sucked empty.
He didn't speak many words, merely when seeing a child being bullied by ruffians, shaved off that hair bun symbolizing the identity of a samurai, using an almost humiliating way, to save that child.
That calmness steady as a mountain, that compassion hidden deeply at the bottom of his eyes, was like an invisible heavy hammer, fiercely striking the heart of everyone present.
Following closely, vivid characters that seemingly could penetrate the silver screen, appeared one after another.
Taciturn, with god-like sword skills, Kyuzo who only sought the extreme of the way of the sword in his life.
In the scene of his appearance, in the blink of an eye, he defeated two arrogant Ronin with just a bamboo stick. That calmness and power, made an uncontrollable sound of gasping cold air ring out in the review room!
This action sequence was clean and neat.
Filmed extremely splendidly.
Always cheerful, even when in desperate straits could use a joke to defuse companions' nervousness, Hayashida Heihachi.
Proficient in military tactics, seemingly worldly-wise but actually full of wisdom, Katayama Gorobei.
And that young samurai born of noble birth, yet innocent of worldly affairs, harboring the purest yearning for the samurai spirit, Okamoto Katsushiro.
Every character, was like a puzzle piece with distinct edges and corners, together constructing an ensemble cast belonging to this class of "samurai", full of glory and tragedy.
However, what truly made everyone present feel their scalps go numb, was still that, controversial and contradictory, imposter —— Kikuchiyo.
He was crude, lecherous, loved bragging, and almost possessed all the national inferiority of farmers.
He used a stolen samurai sword, and a forged family tree, forcefully squeezing into this team that fundamentally didn't belong to him.
He was like a clown who had crashed into a sacred hall, using his comical and clumsy performance, constantly challenging the inherent cognition of the word "samurai" of everyone present.
"This guy... is simply tainting 'Bushido'!" A seemingly quite conservative old committee member, finally couldn't hold back, letting out a cold snort full of disdain from his nose.
However, right after his words fell, on the silver screen, that tragic decisive battle full of mud and fresh blood, then forcefully descended with an unrivaled posture!
Pouring rain, the entire world seemingly enveloped by a gray despair.
The bandits' iron hooves, like a black tide, time and time again impacting that fragile defense line constructed of flesh and blood.
The samurai fought in the mud, fell in the flames.
Hayashida Heihachi, that always cheerful man, in order to cover his companions, had his body pierced through by several long spears. Before he died, on his face still carried that familiar smile, full of warmth.
Kyuzo, that man who only sought the way of the sword in his life, in order to protect Katsushiro, was hit by a musket. At the moment he fell, there was no fear in his eyes, only a trace of, faint regret, failing to duel with a stronger person.
Death, like withered leaves falling in autumn, was full of destiny-like tragedy.
And in that Asura field that had long been dyed red with fresh blood, that imposter who had once been despised by everyone, Kikuchiyo, acted like a completely infuriated beast, erupting with an unprecedented, heart-palpitating energy!
He watched his companions fall one by one, watched those farmers he had once despised, erupt with the brilliance of human nature in order to protect their homeland. In those eyes that were always full of cunning and desire, for the first time, ignited a raging fire sufficient to start a prairie fire!
He was no longer fighting for that fake glory.
He was fighting to protect, fighting for those weaker than him!
When he held high that flag painted with six circles representing the six samurai and one triangle representing himself, facing the bandit leader's musket, let out an earth-shaking roar, and eventually perished together with the enemy...
The entire review room, plunged into a death-like silence.
Everyone held their breath, on those faces written full of shock, leaving only a, deep numbness and... awe, after their values had been repeatedly crushed by a heavy hammer!
At the end of the movie, the bandits were eliminated, the village was saved.
The surviving farmers, on that land soaked in fresh blood, sang and danced, celebrating the hard-won harvest.
That cheerful singing, sharply contrasted with those four lonely graves with samurai swords stuck in them on the hillside, forming a stark contrast full of irony.
The surviving Kambei, looked at that jubilant field, slowly, spoke that, cruel line, sufficient to make all heroic narratives pale in comparison.
"We lost again, the ones who won are those farmers."
The lights lit up.
The three and a half hour long movie, ended.
In the review room, a dropping pin could still be heard.
For a long time, only then did an uncontrollable, long sigh ring out, as if spitting out the weight of the entire soul.
"...Good story."
An old committee member with gray hair, known for his "poisonous tongue" in the industry, slowly took off his reading glasses, wiping away that undisguised moisture at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand.
In his voice, carrying an uncontrollable tremor: "I... I've watched movies for almost forty years. I never thought, a story about samurai, unexpectedly could be... told so, magnificently and spectacularly, and so, pointing directly into people's hearts!"
"Indeed!" Another committee member also heavily nodded his head, on that face always full of pickiness, at this moment was also written full of heartfelt admiration: "This is already not a simple samurai film! This is deconstruction! It is using the fate of seven samurai, to deconstruct our entire nation, that tragic destiny regarding 'class' and 'human nature', that had long penetrated into the bone marrow!"
"Especially that Kikuchiyo!" A seemingly quite young female committee member, was even so excited that her face was completely red: "Although he is an imposter, he possesses more 'samurai spirit' than any true samurai! He let us know, the so-called 'Bushido', was never determined by status, but determined by the 'heart'! Director Kurosawa, your... the profoundness of your theme this time, is truly too high! Simply a... stroke of genius ah!"
For a time, praises surged like a tide!
Everyone unsparingly, dedicated the most gorgeous rhetoric, to that, man who in their eyes, created a miracle —— Kurosawa Eiji.
However, Kurosawa Eiji merely sat there calmly, on that weather-beaten face, unable to see joy or anger.
He merely slowly cast that gaze full of exploring meaning, towards that man who from beginning to end merely sat quietly in the corner, as if staying out of the affair.
Fujiwara Hideaki.
This man controlling the fate of all of them, at this moment was leaning on the sofa, propping his chin with one hand, in those calm eyes, flashing a spine-chilling sharpness akin to a falcon.
His gaze wandered back and forth on Kurosawa Eiji's face written full of magnanimity, and Nohara Hiroshi's face full of composure.
For a long time, only then did he slowly open his mouth.
That voice acted like a thunder that tore through the eternal night, fiercely striking the heart of everyone present!
"Kurosawa, tell me the truth."
His voice, plain, yet carrying an unquestionable majesty sufficient to make anyone tremble.
"This movie, exactly who shot it?"
"..."
The entire review room instantly plunged into an eerie death-like silence.
Everyone seemed to have their throats firmly choked by an invisible hand, unable to utter a single word.
They stared blankly at Fujiwara Hideaki, on those faces, written full of unbelievable absurdity.
Your Excellency Fujiwara... he... what is he saying?
This movie, if not shot by Director Kurosawa, who else could have shot it?
Could it be that... that driver or junior who looks, a few years younger than the youngest intern here?!
This... this is simply... absurd!
What young man could shoot such a samurai film that almost deconstructed Bushido, samurai spirit, as well as class and human nature, almost perfect in their eyes!?
They disdainfully looked at that young man who from beginning to end merely smiled calmly.
In that gaze there was fundamentally no intention of putting him in their eyes!
However, right within this atmosphere full of absurdity and disdain, Kurosawa Eiji, this master respected as a "living legend" in the Nippon film industry, unexpectedly stood up from that sofa symbolizing the identity of a distinguished guest.
Then, under the unbelievable gaze of everyone, almost like seeing a ghost.
Bent his own waist.
Bowing ninety degrees.
"Your Excellency Fujiwara."
Kurosawa Eiji spoke seriously:
"You are correct."
"This movie, the true general director, the true shooter, the person who truly completed this artwork, there is only one."
He slowly straightened his body, on that weather-beaten face, written full of the magnanimity belonging to an artisan of the old era.
"It is indeed him..."
"Nohara Hiroshi!"
(End of Chapter)