My Name is Hiroshi Nohara, Star of Neon Film and Television!

Chapter 158: The Theme and Depth of "Seven Samurai"! Close to the Level of Dao!

In this review room symbolizing the highest power of Nippon cinema, a massive wave was instantly stirred up because of Kurosawa Eiji's words!

"Ha?!"

"Are... are you joking?!"

"Director Kurosawa, are... are you serious?"

After a brief death-like silence, a burst of whispering full of absurdity and questioning, like an ignited fuse, appeared among those committee members in suits and leather shoes, unable to calm down for a long time.

Or rather, these committee members fundamentally didn't want to, and didn't dare to believe what Kurosawa Eiji said!

They were like a group of believers who saw a god personally descend to earth, yet claiming they were just mortal believers, leaving only undisguised questioning on their faces at this moment.

"A greenhorn who shoots variety shows?" A seemingly quite young committee member, known as "cutting-edge" in the industry, spoke unsparingly: "Does he know what cinematic art is?"

"Exactly!"

Another committee member with graying hair, famous for being "conservative" in the industry, also couldn't help but let out a cold snort full of disdain from his nose: "Director Kurosawa, we respect you as a senior, as a master. But you can't... make fun of us people like this right? This young man, at most just gave you some immature small suggestions. You cherishing juniors, wanting to support him, we can all understand. But to say this movie was shot by him... this is simply comical!" These words were the voice in the hearts of everyone present.

They would rather believe Kurosawa Eiji was using a way full of black humor, to express his appreciation for this young man, but absolutely wouldn't believe, a samurai epic sufficient to leave a heavy and colorful stroke in the history of Nippon cinema, would unexpectedly come from the hands of an, amateur who didn't even have a decent cinematic work!

This doesn't conform to logic! Even less does it conform to their, these "experts", iron rules of the industry regarding "seniority" and "experience" that they have stubbornly held onto for decades!

Yes! They have heard of Nohara Hiroshi's name!

Very genius!

Very full of ideas!

Very worthy of affirmation and praise!

But, that is after all anime, is TV dramas, is a genius, ideas, and affirmation and praise in variety shows!

Not movies!

However, right within this clamor full of questioning and disdain, that Your Excellency Fujiwara who from beginning to end merely sat quietly in the corner, as if staying out of the affair, slowly opened his mouth again.

"Everyone be quiet." Fujiwara Hideaki said.

Everyone subconsciously closed their mouths, those gazes full of shock and uncertainty, uniformly, focused on this, man who truly controlled the fate of all of them.

Fujiwara Hideaki ignored them.

He merely slowly stood up, walking before that massive screen that still had the final frame of the movie remaining.

His gaze, calmly swept across that field full of tragedy and irony, swept across those four lonely graves with samurai swords stuck in them, eventually, landing on those three, samurai who survived, yet seemingly lost everything.

"Do you think, this movie, is merely telling a simple, story of samurai saving farmers?"

His voice was plain, yet like the sharpest scalpel, precisely dissecting the seemingly simple story surface of this movie.

Nakedly displaying the cruel core full of class antagonism and human struggle inside, before everyone!

"You saw the 'Benevolence' of the samurai, saw their 'Courage', saw their 'Loyalty' and 'Honor'. But you, did you understand the 'Evil' of the farmers?"

He slowly turned around, those calm eyes, like two bottomless ancient wells.

The corners of his mouth, hooked up a cold arc, speaking out word by word, clearly, that subversive dialogue that had long been carved into his mind.

"What do you think farmers are, do you think they are Bodhisattvas?"

"...Simply a joke, farmers are the most cunning, when asking for rice they don't give, when asking for wheat they also say they don't have, actually they have everything, every thing, lift up the floorboards and look, if not underground then in the storage room, definitely will find a lot of things, rice, salt, beans, sake... go to the depths of the valley to look, there are hidden rice paddies!"

"They appear loyal and honest on the surface but are the best at lying, no matter what they will lie! Once a war starts they go kill routed soldiers and rob weapons, listen, the so-called farmers are the most stingy, the most cunning, cowardly, evil-hearted, low energy, are murderous demons!"

"But wait, who made them become like this?"

"It's you, it's you samurai, all of you go die! Burning villages for war, ravaging fields, arbitrarily conscripting labor, insulting women, killing resisters, what do you tell the farmers to do? What should they do!"

This argument full of dialectics and irony, fiercely struck the heart of everyone present!

In the review room, once again plunged into a death-like silence.

Those committee members who a second ago were still full of superiority, at this moment on those faces, written full of shock and amazement!

These lines are too brilliant!

Too good!

Too splendid!

But it was precisely because of this, so the gaze they looked towards Nohara Hiroshi with was even more doubtful, a young boy at such a young age.

How could he come up with this kind of dialogue.

How could he shoot...

Such a splendid movie!?

However, Fujiwara Hideaki's words were far from over.

"Did you understand why out of the seven samurai, four had to die, and three live?"

His voice, calmly rang out again.

"The four who died, represent the thorough bankruptcy of the traditional Bushido spirit. And the three who lived, only then represent the true, tragic core of this story."

"Kambei's disillusionment, Shichiroji's compromise, Katsushiro's integration... this, only then is an, elegy played for the demise of a class, the most tragic, and also the most profound!"

"Such a theme, such a scale, such a, precise insight into that tragic destiny of our nation that has long penetrated into the bone marrow..."

Fujiwara Hideaki slowly walked back to his seat, in those calm eyes surfacing a color of emotion.

As well as some exhaustion.

Especially looking at his old friend, this old friend he had got along with, known, and been familiar with for over thirty years, slowly making an evaluation: "These, indeed do not seem like something Director Kurosawa who is limited to samurai themselves, is good at."

"..."

Kurosawa Eiji's body violently trembled!

He slowly lifted his head, all expressions on his face having faded, leaving only a bitterness and... relief.

"Your Excellency Fujiwara is correct."

He let out a long breath, in that breath, seemingly taking away all the pride and stubbornness of his half life.

He looked at those committee members who had long been frightened out of their wits by his words. On that old face that was always full of aloofness and paranoia, for the first time, surfaced a self-deprecating smile.

"I, Kurosawa Eiji, have shot samurai for my whole life. I once thought, I had already exhaustively shot their glory, their tragedy, their helplessness. But today, after reading this story written by Nohara-kun, only then did I know..."

He paused, in that voice, carrying a trace of heartfelt admiration.

"...Those things I shot, were merely some, unpresentable, children's playthings full of fighting, killing, gratitude, and grudges."

"And he..."

Kurosawa Eiji turned his head locking onto that, young man who from beginning to end, merely calmly sipped tea.

"He, is the one, who truly understood 'samurai', and also understood our nation, that tragic destiny that had long penetrated into the bone marrow."

"Therefore, I will say it again."

Kurosawa Eiji slowly spoke: "This 'Seven Samurai', from beginning to end, is entirely his, Nohara Hiroshi's, single person's work!"

The declaration full of magnanimity and pride, acted like the loudest slap, fiercely, slapping the face of every single, committee member present who still harbored a fluke mindset!

They stared blankly at Kurosawa Eiji.

Their minds completely blank.

In their thoughts, even more feeling full of complete incomparable absurdity, every single one of them truly completely unable to speak a single word, even their lips were trembling.

Such a perfect samurai film, unexpectedly, was truly shot by this boy!

"Alright."

Fujiwara Hideaki calmly watched all this, a heartfelt smile on that face.

He slowly picked up that red seal symbolizing "Pass" on the desk, heavily stamping it down on that review document that had long been ignored by everyone!

"'Seven Samurai', passed unanimously."

His voice was plain, yet like a divine decree spanning heaven and earth, drawing a perfect conclusion to this review meeting full of dramatic conflicts.

"Unrestricted public release. In addition, I will use the name of 'Eirin', to recommend this work, to next year's Nippon Film Festival."

Your Excellency Fujiwara's calm eyes like two ancient wells, reflected that young man, that handsome and calm face.

"Nohara-kun, I am very looking forward to, you being able to bring a new storm to this, country of ours that has long been silent for too long."

"Just like... 'Kasou Taishou'!"

This was already not simple valuing.

This was a, massive expectation close to a "National Policy"!

...

When Nohara Hiroshi and Kurosawa Eiji, walked out of that small gray building full of oppression and power, it was already dusk.

The afterglow of the setting sun, like melted golden syrup, pulled the figures of the two, on the cold concrete ground, into two long shadows full of a sense of interspersed eras.

"Phew——"

Kurosawa Eiji let out a long breath, in that breath, seemingly taking away all the stubbornness of his half life.

He turned his head, looking at this young man beside him, who was so calm and indifferent as if he had just attended an ordinary tea party. On that weather-beaten face, surfaced a dumbfounded bitterness.

"Nohara-kun, do you know?" He softly spoke: "Fortunately I am about to retire, otherwise, this old bag of bones of mine, probably even my rice bowl, would be snatched away by you."

The joke full of self-deprecating meaning broke the deadlocked atmosphere.

"Director Kurosawa, you speak too seriously." Nohara Hiroshi smiled, in his eyes, flashing a heartfelt respect towards this master: "You are the master who created an era, and I, am merely... a lucky person standing on the shoulders of giants, fortunately seeing a scenery further away."

This was the truth.

Nohara Hiroshi was after all a copycat from the Nippon of a previous life.

Which means, standing on the shoulders of a parallel Nippon world, how could he not be better than Kurosawa Eiji who fought alone in this Nippon world?

Only Kurosawa Eiji upon hearing this, merely treated it as Nohara Hiroshi's modesty.

First stunned.

Following which, let out a burst of hearty laughter that had been suppressed for too long.

"Hahaha! Good! What a 'lucky person'!"

He heavily patted Nohara Hiroshi's shoulder, all the desolation in his eyes having faded, leaving only excitement:

"Let's go! Nohara-kun! In order to celebrate passing the review today, I treat you to drinks! We go to Ginza, drink the best sake, eat the best Wagyu! Today, this old fellow me, will not go home until drunk with you!"

"Okay ah." Nohara Hiroshi smilingly accepted.

One old one young.

The atmosphere was extremely harmonious!

...

When the black commercial vehicle, like a ghost silently slid into the massive underground parking lot of TV Tokyo, the evening lights were already lit.

At the Production Bureau Headquarters Building, at this time there were still many people working overtime.

The elevator doors opened with a "ding" sound.

Two figures, one old one young, supporting each other, staggered out.

That soaring smell of alcohol, like an invisible biological weapon, instantly using the two as the center, permeated towards the entire floor.

"Burp——!"

Kurosawa Eiji, this master respected as a "living legend" in the Nippon film industry, at this moment was acting like the most ordinary drunk uncle.

Face completely red, eyes blurry.

One hand even heroically gripping an already empty sake bottle, the other hand heavily draped on the shoulder of that young man beside him, his mouth mumbling a completely out-of-tune old era song.

And Nohara Hiroshi at this moment wasn't much better.

That originally simple casual wear of his had long been crumpled into wrinkles, that signature gentle smile on his face, at this moment also had a trace of childish silly innocence because of the effect of alcohol.

Although he still barely maintained a trace of consciousness, but that slightly swaying body, had long thoroughly betrayed the fact that he was equally unable to hold his liquor.

This scene full of "Shakaijin Shikkaku" meaning, instantly stirred up ripples full of shock and incomprehension in the entire Production Bureau Headquarters Building.

"Hey... those... who are those two people?"

A young intern who just graduated from Waseda University, harboring the purest dreams for the television industry, looking at those two figures full of the aura of a "broadcasting accident", subconsciously lowered his voice, asking the companion beside him using a tone full of disdain.

"During working hours, unexpectedly drinking like this? Simply... the shame of our television station!"

"Who says it isn't."

Another girl who was equally newly employed, also frowned those good-looking eyebrows: "I heard, the Production Bureau here, has strict hierarchy, the rules are very big. How could there still be this kind of... guy who doesn't even have the most basic professional ethics existing? Could it be, they are relatives of some high-level executive?"

Whispers full of a sense of justice quickly appeared.

However, before their "trial" full of superiority ended, a sigh full of vicissitudes and helplessness, sounded from behind them without any warning.

"Sigh... you young people ah, are still too green."

The one speaking, was an experienced broadcast director approaching fifty, his hair already somewhat graying.

He held a cup of coffee, leaning against the wall, glanced at those two "envoys of justice" who still didn't know the immensity of heaven and earth, helplessly saying: "Do you know? That 'guy without professional ethics' in your mouths, that old man who is so drunk he can't even walk steadily, is Kurosawa Eiji."

"Kurosawa... Eiji?" The young intern was stunned for a moment, following which, on that face still carrying a few parts of student air, instantly surfaced an unbelievable shock!

"Could it be... could it be that legendary, who shot countless samurai films and the 'Samurai Series Classic Trilogy'...... Director Kurosawa?!"

"Who else?" The old broadcast director curled his lips, that look was like looking at two country bumpkins who hadn't seen the world: "In the entire Production Bureau, besides him, who else dares to drink like this on Bureau Chief Sakata's turf?"

"Then... then what about that young man beside him?" The girl's voice, carried a tremor.

Being able to make a big shot like Director Kurosawa, personally support him, and still having an intimate appearance of "friends despite the age difference", this young man's identity, I'm afraid...

"Him?"

The old broadcast director upon hearing this, the expression on his face became increasingly weird. That was a complex expression mixing awe, envy, and a trace of imperceptible jealousy.

He took a deep breath, slowly spitting out that name which was now like a god in the entire TV Tokyo.

"He, is the only, living legend in this building of ours."

"That monster who used three works, to turn the entire Nippon television circle upside down——"

"Nohara Hiroshi."

"..."

The entire world seemingly had its mute button pressed.

Those two young people who a second ago were still full of a sense of justice, at this moment both stood blankly on the spot.

Then both nodded and said approvingly:

"Then it's fine..."

...

"Preposterous! Simply preposterous!"

However in Asumi's office, this Deputy Director who was sufficient to make any producer outside silent as a winter cicada, at this moment was pinching his waist, pacing back and forth before that massive mahogany desk.

That face was written full of helplessness of being angry at them for not fighting for their ambitions.

"Look at yourselves! Look at yourselves! You two, one is the fixing sea needle of our Kanto Faction, one is the future hope of our Kanto Faction! Now look, one by one drunk like mud! If this is seen by that old fox Takada, tomorrow on the noticeboard of the entire Production Bureau, probably will be covered with notices of criticism for your 'drunken misbehavior'!"

He pointed at those two "culprits" who had long collapsed like two salted fish onto that expensive leather sofa of his, in that voice, full of uncontrollable anger.

However this reprimand full of "loving mother" like concern, only bought a burst of hearty laughter full of heroic spirit and disdain.

"Hahahaha! Notice of criticism? I, Kurosawa Eiji, have shot movies for my whole life, what kind of criticism haven't I seen?!"

Kurosawa Eiji swaying unsteadily sat up from the sofa. He grabbed a mineral water on the table, gulping down two big mouthfuls straight from the bottle. That totally red old face recovered quite a bit.

"Asumi! Stop putting on your stinky airs of a Deputy Director with me here! Let me tell you, today, I am happy! In this life of mine, I have never been this happy!"

"At worst, you deduct my salary!"

"You——!" Asumi was so angered by these words that his blood surged, almost spitting out a mouthful of old blood.

Deduct salary?

He rather wants to deduct! But does he dare to?!

Let alone he was just a Deputy Director, even if Sakata Nobuhiko came personally, facing this stubborn old man who had long achieved success and fame, half a foot already stepped into the "hall of art", he also had to be polite, respectfully calling "Director Kurosawa"!

Don't think Nippon doesn't have worldly wisdom.

The ways inside this.

Are very many!

Thus Asumi helplessly cast his gaze, towards that young man who from beginning to end merely silly smiled, looking to still have a few parts of rationality.

(End of Chapter)