According to the blog counter, this is my five hundredth post. When I first began some four years ago, I had no goal or target to shoot at. I just started posting and assumed that I would eventually lose interest or burn out or get interrupted by fate or some chance event. I even wondered whether I would be able to come up with enough material to make more than a few posts. I still may burn out or lose interest some day, and fate may still interrupt me, but I definitely won't run out of material. One day years from now I may even reach 1000, maybe.
This does give me an opportunity to do something I've been thinking about for some time--compare the list of my favorite posts and the posts, according to the Blogger Stats, that have received the most visits. I've often wondered how much overlap there really is.
The Ten Most Visited Posts (according to Blogger Stats)
N. Scott Momaday The Way to Rainy Mountain
May 23, 2010 2422 visits
Shirley Jackson "The Lottery"
June 27, 2010 1286 visits
Brian Aldiss "Super-Toys Last All Summer"
March 25, 2011 679 visits
Robert Frost "Storm Fear"
Feb. 3, 2011 521 visits
Alfred Bester "Fondly Fahrenheit"
August 14, 2008 442 visits
Thomas Mann The Transposed Heads
Nov. 3, 2011 428 visits
Robert Frost a terrifying poet?
Sept 16, 2008 182 visits
Friedrich Durrenmatt The Pledge, novel and film
Jan. 16, 2009 165 visits
Theodore Sturgeon Three By Theodore Sturgeon
Jan 16, 2010 151 visits
Tales of Times Past Japanese medieval stories
March 6, 2011 148 visits
It's a rather mixed collection. I don't see much of a pattern here, except for some slight predominance of SF and fantasy, but that may be due to a predominance of posts about SF and fantasy. I haven't really ever taken a genre census.
The following is a list of some of my favorite posts. I'm not certain exactly why they are. Maybe some day I will be enlightened. They are in no particular order.
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam --a series of posts, one for each quatrain in the first edition which has 75 quatrains. I'm now up to Quatrain LXII, so I have thirteen to go to finish the work.
Kim Stanley Robinson: four or five posts about his "Three Californias" series: The Wild Shore, The Gold Coast, and Pacific Edge. Each of the three novels depicts a different future for Orange County, California--a post holocaust future, a continuation of the cold war and the dominance of the military-industrial complex in the US, and an ecological/environmental oriented future, respectively.
Blade Runner--five versions of the film.
Shirley Jackson--"The Lottery"
Gregory Benford--The "Galactic Center" series: six posts, each of which is about the six novels in the series, which is one of the greatest SF series (if not the greatest) ever written, in my view anyway. It begins in the late 1990s on Earth and ends somewhen about 35,000 (yes, thirty-five thousand) years in the future around the black hole at the center of our galaxy..
N. Scott Momaday: The Way to Rainy Mountain, part history of the Kiowa people, part legends of the Kiowa people, and part personal history of Momaday.
The Rashomon posts, several posts about the film by Akira Kurosawa and the stories of Ryunosuke Akutagawa that formed the basis of the film.
The Maltese Falcon: a post discussing the three versions of Dashiell Hammett's novel, The Maltese Falcon.
William Hope Hodgson: The Night Land, a post about one of my favorite fantasy novels.
King Kong: a post comparing the three versions of the film.
Ikiru: a post discussing one of my favorite films, directed by Akira Kurosawa.
Robert Frost a terrifying poet?--a slightly different view of the poet
Robert Frost: "For Once, Then Something"
Thomas Hardy and Robert Frost: "Hap" and "Design"
and others.
Not much overlap is there?
I've enjoyed the ride so far, so I guess I'll stay with it for a while longer.
And thanks, to you and the others who have visited me here and had something to say about what you read here. Hearing from you is important and I think most every blogger would agree with me.
Showing posts with label Rashomon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rashomon. Show all posts
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Tales of Times Now Past: stories from a medieval Japanese collection
Tales of Times Now Past: Sixty-two Stories from a Medieval Japanese Collection
Edited and translated by Marian Ury
Introduction by Marian Ury
From the wrapper overleaf:
"Tales of Times Past is a translation of sixty-two outstanding tales freshly selected from Konjaku monogatari shu, a Japanese anthology dating from the early twelfth century. The original work, unique in world literature, contains more than one thousand systematically arranged tales from India, China, and Japan. It is the most important example of a genre of collections of brief tales which, because of their informality and unpretentious style, were neglected by Japanese critics until recent years but which are now acknowledged to be among the most significant prose literature of premodern Japan. Konjaku in particular has aroused the enthusiasm of such leading twentieth-century writers as Akutagawa Ryunosuke and Tanizaki Jun'ichiro."
This thousand year-old collection was carefully and "systematically arranged," suggesting that literary organization is not something new. The work is divided into three major parts: stories from India, China, and Japan. Then, the stories from each country were organized into two subcategories for each country: stories about Buddha and Buddhists, which were then followed by secular tales from each country. In the section of tales from India, many are about Buddha and the miraculous events of his life and his teachings.
The stories about Buddhists are very similar to various collections of lives of the saints found in the Christian tradition. There are miraculous cures and rescues from robbers and demons as a result of a strong belief in Buddhism and/or prayers pleading for help. In addition are a number of stories of Buddhist monks who were punished for their greed or jealousy or lack of piety or rewarded for their strong faith and devotion to Buddha and Buddhist principles.
Many of the secular stories also have a strong religious tinge to them. One story tells of two brothers who traveled through a mountainous region, each carrying a large amount of gold. During the trip, the same thought occurred to both of them: "If I were to kill my brother, I could double the amount of gold I have." However neither acted upon the impulse. Coming to a river, once out of the mountains, the elder brother threw his gold into the river. When the younger brother asked him why he did that, the elder brother replied that he had an impulse to kill him, his only brother. He would never have thought that ordinarily so it had to be the gold that tempted him. That is why he threw it away. The younger brother said he had had the same idea and he also threw his gold in the river.
The moral of the story is: "People are robbed of their lives because of the cravings of the senses and incur bodily harm because of worldly good. he who possesses none and remains poor will have no cause for grief. And indeed, it is the craving for worldly goods that causes us" to be trapped in the cycle of birth and death, reincarnation.
While the tales are short, most are around two-three pages with a number being only one page long and a few as long as four or five pages, they are not all straightforward tales of simply praying to Buddha and being rewarded for one's piety. Many are more subtle or complex than that.
My favorite cautionary tale, less than a page long, is as follows:
"At a time now past, in China . . . there was a man of Ch'u whose name was Hou Ku. His father was unfilial and was angry with his own father for being slow to die.
Now, Hou Ku's father fashioned a litter and put his aged father in it. Hou ku's father and Hou Ku carried it on their shoulders deep into the mountains, abandoned the old man, and returned home. Hou Ku brought the litter back with him. His father saw it and said, 'What did you bring the litter back for?' Hou Ku answered, 'I have just learned that a son is one who puts his aged father in a litter and abandons him in the mountains. That means that when my own father is old I will put him in a litter and abandon him in the mountains. This will save me from having to make a new one.'
When his father heard this he thought, 'I myself will be abandoned when I am old,' and wild with anxiety he hurried back to the mountains to welcome his father back home. Thereafter, Hou Ku's father never stinted his filial care. This was due entirely to Hou Ku's scheme.
The whole world praises and admires Hou Ku beyond measure: one who saves his grandfather's life and causes his own father to be a filial son truly deserves to be called wise. So the tale's been told, and so it's been handed down."
(The note to this story says the theme of this story "is very popular, and versions of it can be found in the Indian and Japanese sections of Konjaku as well."
Another tale brings in Chuang Tzu, one of the early and most important figures in the development of Taoism. Once while traveling, he came across a huge old tree. When he asked why this tree was allowed to live to such a great age, the woodsman said, "I choose trees for cutting that are well formed and straight. This tree is gnarled and twisted. Since it is no good for anything, I have not cut it, and thus it has attained its great age."
A day later, "Chuang Tzu went to someone's house." The master of the house served him wine and discovered "there were no tidbits to accompany it." The master then ordered a servant to kill a goose. The servant asked him which goose should he kill, "The one that sings nicely, or the one that doesn't sing?" The master said, "Let the singing one live to sing, kill the one that doesn't sing and make it into tidbits."
"Thereupon Chuang Tzu said, 'The tree in the stand of timber I saw yesterday had been let live because it was useless. Today my host has spared the life of a goose because it has a talent. This proves that whether you live or die does not depend on whether you are wise or foolish; it is something that just comes about of itself. No can we deduce a rule that those who have talent will not die or that those who are useless will not die. The useless tree lives long, the goose that did not sing died at once. Such is life."
In the quotation from the overleaf, it was pointed out that several twentieth-century writers were "enthusiastic" about these tales, one of whom was Akutagawa Ryunosuke. He took a number of these stories and revised and expanded them. Two of these tales are the source for what might be his most famous short stories, "In a Grove," and "Rashomon."
Akira Kurosawa, one of my favorite film directors, then combined these two stories into one of the world's greatest films, Rashoman. As I had mentioned in an earlier post on Rashomon, the story doesn't end here. Hollywood did its own version and called it The Outrage, starring Paul Newman (the Mexican bandit), Claire Bloom, Laurence Harvey, Edward G. Robinson (the thief), and William Shatner (the minister)--not bad for a couple of twelfth-century short tales.
Each story has a moral attached to it, either one of moral goodness or piety for the Buddhist tales or one of practical or earthly wisdom for the secular tales. There are tales of rulers, both wise and not-so-wise, of dramatic escapes from demons, ghosts, robbers, and murderers, and of justly deserved (in most cases) rewards and punishments.
Overall: fascinating and brief (much too brief) glimpses into times now long past.
Edited and translated by Marian Ury
Introduction by Marian Ury
From the wrapper overleaf:
"Tales of Times Past is a translation of sixty-two outstanding tales freshly selected from Konjaku monogatari shu, a Japanese anthology dating from the early twelfth century. The original work, unique in world literature, contains more than one thousand systematically arranged tales from India, China, and Japan. It is the most important example of a genre of collections of brief tales which, because of their informality and unpretentious style, were neglected by Japanese critics until recent years but which are now acknowledged to be among the most significant prose literature of premodern Japan. Konjaku in particular has aroused the enthusiasm of such leading twentieth-century writers as Akutagawa Ryunosuke and Tanizaki Jun'ichiro."
This thousand year-old collection was carefully and "systematically arranged," suggesting that literary organization is not something new. The work is divided into three major parts: stories from India, China, and Japan. Then, the stories from each country were organized into two subcategories for each country: stories about Buddha and Buddhists, which were then followed by secular tales from each country. In the section of tales from India, many are about Buddha and the miraculous events of his life and his teachings.
The stories about Buddhists are very similar to various collections of lives of the saints found in the Christian tradition. There are miraculous cures and rescues from robbers and demons as a result of a strong belief in Buddhism and/or prayers pleading for help. In addition are a number of stories of Buddhist monks who were punished for their greed or jealousy or lack of piety or rewarded for their strong faith and devotion to Buddha and Buddhist principles.
Many of the secular stories also have a strong religious tinge to them. One story tells of two brothers who traveled through a mountainous region, each carrying a large amount of gold. During the trip, the same thought occurred to both of them: "If I were to kill my brother, I could double the amount of gold I have." However neither acted upon the impulse. Coming to a river, once out of the mountains, the elder brother threw his gold into the river. When the younger brother asked him why he did that, the elder brother replied that he had an impulse to kill him, his only brother. He would never have thought that ordinarily so it had to be the gold that tempted him. That is why he threw it away. The younger brother said he had had the same idea and he also threw his gold in the river.
The moral of the story is: "People are robbed of their lives because of the cravings of the senses and incur bodily harm because of worldly good. he who possesses none and remains poor will have no cause for grief. And indeed, it is the craving for worldly goods that causes us" to be trapped in the cycle of birth and death, reincarnation.
While the tales are short, most are around two-three pages with a number being only one page long and a few as long as four or five pages, they are not all straightforward tales of simply praying to Buddha and being rewarded for one's piety. Many are more subtle or complex than that.
My favorite cautionary tale, less than a page long, is as follows:
"At a time now past, in China . . . there was a man of Ch'u whose name was Hou Ku. His father was unfilial and was angry with his own father for being slow to die.
Now, Hou Ku's father fashioned a litter and put his aged father in it. Hou ku's father and Hou Ku carried it on their shoulders deep into the mountains, abandoned the old man, and returned home. Hou Ku brought the litter back with him. His father saw it and said, 'What did you bring the litter back for?' Hou Ku answered, 'I have just learned that a son is one who puts his aged father in a litter and abandons him in the mountains. That means that when my own father is old I will put him in a litter and abandon him in the mountains. This will save me from having to make a new one.'
When his father heard this he thought, 'I myself will be abandoned when I am old,' and wild with anxiety he hurried back to the mountains to welcome his father back home. Thereafter, Hou Ku's father never stinted his filial care. This was due entirely to Hou Ku's scheme.
The whole world praises and admires Hou Ku beyond measure: one who saves his grandfather's life and causes his own father to be a filial son truly deserves to be called wise. So the tale's been told, and so it's been handed down."
(The note to this story says the theme of this story "is very popular, and versions of it can be found in the Indian and Japanese sections of Konjaku as well."
Another tale brings in Chuang Tzu, one of the early and most important figures in the development of Taoism. Once while traveling, he came across a huge old tree. When he asked why this tree was allowed to live to such a great age, the woodsman said, "I choose trees for cutting that are well formed and straight. This tree is gnarled and twisted. Since it is no good for anything, I have not cut it, and thus it has attained its great age."
A day later, "Chuang Tzu went to someone's house." The master of the house served him wine and discovered "there were no tidbits to accompany it." The master then ordered a servant to kill a goose. The servant asked him which goose should he kill, "The one that sings nicely, or the one that doesn't sing?" The master said, "Let the singing one live to sing, kill the one that doesn't sing and make it into tidbits."
"Thereupon Chuang Tzu said, 'The tree in the stand of timber I saw yesterday had been let live because it was useless. Today my host has spared the life of a goose because it has a talent. This proves that whether you live or die does not depend on whether you are wise or foolish; it is something that just comes about of itself. No can we deduce a rule that those who have talent will not die or that those who are useless will not die. The useless tree lives long, the goose that did not sing died at once. Such is life."
In the quotation from the overleaf, it was pointed out that several twentieth-century writers were "enthusiastic" about these tales, one of whom was Akutagawa Ryunosuke. He took a number of these stories and revised and expanded them. Two of these tales are the source for what might be his most famous short stories, "In a Grove," and "Rashomon."
Akira Kurosawa, one of my favorite film directors, then combined these two stories into one of the world's greatest films, Rashoman. As I had mentioned in an earlier post on Rashomon, the story doesn't end here. Hollywood did its own version and called it The Outrage, starring Paul Newman (the Mexican bandit), Claire Bloom, Laurence Harvey, Edward G. Robinson (the thief), and William Shatner (the minister)--not bad for a couple of twelfth-century short tales.
Each story has a moral attached to it, either one of moral goodness or piety for the Buddhist tales or one of practical or earthly wisdom for the secular tales. There are tales of rulers, both wise and not-so-wise, of dramatic escapes from demons, ghosts, robbers, and murderers, and of justly deserved (in most cases) rewards and punishments.
Overall: fascinating and brief (much too brief) glimpses into times now long past.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Kurosawa's _Rashomon_ and Martin Ritt's _The Outrage_
Warning: I have included considerable information about both films, including the endings.
As anyone who has visited Fred's Place might guess, I'm fascinated by Kurosawa's Rashomon, his great film that appeared in 1950. In two previous posts, on October 24, 2008 and December 12, 2008, I traced the ancestry of the film back to 12th century medieval Japan. Well, I finally caught up with its descendant, Martin Ritt's The Outrage, which appeared in 1964. As far as I can tell, this is the only descendant so far. If anyone knows of others, I'd appreciate the information.
Martin Ritt directed this remake of Rashomon. It is quite close to Kurosawa's version, with several significant revisions. One is the setting: The Outrage is moved from medieval Japan to post Civil War southwestern United States, near the mythical town of Silver Gulch. The setting is an abandoned railroad depot, at which trains seldom stop. One reference in the film is made to Tucson, so one might assume either southern Arizona or New Mexico. Silver Gulch is a dying town because the silver mines are played out. In southern New Mexico, one can find Silver City, a town that sprang up because of the silver mines, which are now shut down.
This is in keeping with previous remakes of Kurosawa's films, The Seven Samurai which became The Magnificent Seven, and Yojimbo which was remade as A Fistful of Dollars, with Clint Eastwood, and again as Last Man Standing with Bruce Willis, all of which were set in southwestern US or Mexico.
The samurai and his wife are now a Southern plantation owner and his wife, played by Laurence Harvey and Claire Bloom, who have lost everything in the Civil War and are now looking for some place to start over again. Just what they are doing in a one-horse buggy out in the middle of the Sonoran desert with little or no luggage is beyond me. The bandit, of course, is now a Mexican bandit, Juan Carrasco, played by old blue eyes himself--Paul Newman. In the Japanese version, the husband's body is discovered by a woodcutter; this becomes a prospector, played by Howard Da Silva. The Buddhist priest has been transformed, naturally, into a Christian clergyman, and the actor selected for this part is probably best known for his role as the indomitable Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, a very young William Shattner. The thief becomes a con man, a swindler, a seller of patent medicines which are as likely to kill as the condition they are supposed to cure. Edward G. Robinson was selected for this role.
A second change is that of the role of the shaman. In the Japanese version, the shaman goes into a trance and contacts the spirit of the dead husband, who then can tell his version of the events leading up to his death. This would never be accepted in an US court, so the husband's story was told by a medicine man who came along just as the husband was dying and heard his version.
Ritt also changed the ending. In Akutagawa's short stories, the reader was left with the three opposing stories, indicating that several, if not all, were lying. Kurosawa added a fourth version, that of the woodcutter whose version came closest to the bandit's tale, death in a duel. Ritt then changed Kurosawa's ending, and the prospector's final version also focused on the duel, but the husband tripped while carrying a knife, obviously not holding it point downward, and fell and stabbed himself.
Major problem: in spite of the considerable talents of the cast, I couldn't find them convincing in their roles. I always knew it was Paul Newman and Laurence Harvey and Claire Bloom playing a part. I found Robinson's supposedly hearty and cynical laugh irritating and forced. The cast generally struck me as just walking through their lines. The only one who really came alive was Claire Bloom at the end when she taunts and goads her reluctant husband and the equally reluctant bandit to fight over her.
Overall Comment: Akutagawa took two medieval Japanese tales and a short story by Ambrose Bierce and created two short stories that went beyond the source material. One could see the seeds in his versions, but he added his own insight to the stories. Kurosawa did the same when he melded Akutagawa's short stories into his film. The germs of the originals are there, but again he took the material a step further. Ritt did not do this. His adaptation was a more or less faithful rendering into a western setting in which most of the changes were demanded by the new setting. The most significant change was not necessary and weakened the film--the ending, in which the prospector says the husband was killed by accident. There was no reason for that change.
As anyone who has visited Fred's Place might guess, I'm fascinated by Kurosawa's Rashomon, his great film that appeared in 1950. In two previous posts, on October 24, 2008 and December 12, 2008, I traced the ancestry of the film back to 12th century medieval Japan. Well, I finally caught up with its descendant, Martin Ritt's The Outrage, which appeared in 1964. As far as I can tell, this is the only descendant so far. If anyone knows of others, I'd appreciate the information.
Martin Ritt directed this remake of Rashomon. It is quite close to Kurosawa's version, with several significant revisions. One is the setting: The Outrage is moved from medieval Japan to post Civil War southwestern United States, near the mythical town of Silver Gulch. The setting is an abandoned railroad depot, at which trains seldom stop. One reference in the film is made to Tucson, so one might assume either southern Arizona or New Mexico. Silver Gulch is a dying town because the silver mines are played out. In southern New Mexico, one can find Silver City, a town that sprang up because of the silver mines, which are now shut down.
This is in keeping with previous remakes of Kurosawa's films, The Seven Samurai which became The Magnificent Seven, and Yojimbo which was remade as A Fistful of Dollars, with Clint Eastwood, and again as Last Man Standing with Bruce Willis, all of which were set in southwestern US or Mexico.
The samurai and his wife are now a Southern plantation owner and his wife, played by Laurence Harvey and Claire Bloom, who have lost everything in the Civil War and are now looking for some place to start over again. Just what they are doing in a one-horse buggy out in the middle of the Sonoran desert with little or no luggage is beyond me. The bandit, of course, is now a Mexican bandit, Juan Carrasco, played by old blue eyes himself--Paul Newman. In the Japanese version, the husband's body is discovered by a woodcutter; this becomes a prospector, played by Howard Da Silva. The Buddhist priest has been transformed, naturally, into a Christian clergyman, and the actor selected for this part is probably best known for his role as the indomitable Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, a very young William Shattner. The thief becomes a con man, a swindler, a seller of patent medicines which are as likely to kill as the condition they are supposed to cure. Edward G. Robinson was selected for this role.
A second change is that of the role of the shaman. In the Japanese version, the shaman goes into a trance and contacts the spirit of the dead husband, who then can tell his version of the events leading up to his death. This would never be accepted in an US court, so the husband's story was told by a medicine man who came along just as the husband was dying and heard his version.
Ritt also changed the ending. In Akutagawa's short stories, the reader was left with the three opposing stories, indicating that several, if not all, were lying. Kurosawa added a fourth version, that of the woodcutter whose version came closest to the bandit's tale, death in a duel. Ritt then changed Kurosawa's ending, and the prospector's final version also focused on the duel, but the husband tripped while carrying a knife, obviously not holding it point downward, and fell and stabbed himself.
Major problem: in spite of the considerable talents of the cast, I couldn't find them convincing in their roles. I always knew it was Paul Newman and Laurence Harvey and Claire Bloom playing a part. I found Robinson's supposedly hearty and cynical laugh irritating and forced. The cast generally struck me as just walking through their lines. The only one who really came alive was Claire Bloom at the end when she taunts and goads her reluctant husband and the equally reluctant bandit to fight over her.
Overall Comment: Akutagawa took two medieval Japanese tales and a short story by Ambrose Bierce and created two short stories that went beyond the source material. One could see the seeds in his versions, but he added his own insight to the stories. Kurosawa did the same when he melded Akutagawa's short stories into his film. The germs of the originals are there, but again he took the material a step further. Ritt did not do this. His adaptation was a more or less faithful rendering into a western setting in which most of the changes were demanded by the new setting. The most significant change was not necessary and weakened the film--the ending, in which the prospector says the husband was killed by accident. There was no reason for that change.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Akutagawa's short story: In a Grove
One of Kurosawa's best known films is Rashomon, the story of a rape and death from three different points of view: the husband, the wife, and the bandit. Kurosawa adapted this film from two short stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa, considered by some to be one of Japan's top writers in the 20th century.
The film was remade in 1964. The director is Martin Ritt, and the cast of characters includes Paul Newman as the bandit, Laurence Harvey as the husband, Claire Bloom, as the wife. In the frame, Edward G. Robinson plays the role of the con man/thief and William Shatner (Capt Kirk of Star Trek fame) is the preacher. Unfortunately, I've been unable so far to find a copy of this film on DVD. It would be fascinating to see what Hollywood did with this gem by Kurosawa.
The core of the film's story is based on Akutagawa's short story, "The Grove" (aka "The Cedar Grove," "The Willow Grove," "In a Grove," or "The Bamboo Grove"). The film's title comes from another short story by Akutagawa, "Rashomon," which provides the setting for the film's frame of the three men telling the story in an abandoned town gate. The gate does exist, according to all accounts that I've read.
In a collection of Akutagawa's short stories, Rashomon and 17 Other Stories, Jay Rubin, who translated the stories and provided notes for them, says that Akutagawa's inspiration for "The Grove" and for "Rashomon" came from tales from the 12th century. I'm presently searching for those now.
Rubin, however, goes on to say that another source for "The Grove" might be a short story by Ambrose Bierce, of whom Akutagawa was an enthusiastic supporter. This story, "The Moonlit Road," I was able to find on the internet.
Bierce's story is told in the form of separate statements by each of the three--the Son, the Father, and the Mother, whose tale had to be told through a medium since she had been murdered.
The commonalities between Bierce's tale and Akutagawa's are twofold. First, the format is the same as both tell the story in the form of separate statements by various individuals involved in the incident. There is no interplay among those making the statements. Secondly, the last statement in both stories has to be told through a medium or shaman (in the Japanese version) because the individual is dead at the time of the telling of the story. It is this person's death that is the mystery that is to be resolved by the various statements.
I don't know, just now, the importance of Bierce's tale, "The Moonlit Road," for Akutagawa's story, but I'm curious enough to attempt to find the 12th century source for "The Grove." Perhaps that might provide some clues. Besides, it's always interesting to read the source for a particular work and see just what the later author did with the original material.
Rashomon is a great film, and I recommend it highly. The short stories are also quite good, both Akutagawa's and Bierce's.
The film was remade in 1964. The director is Martin Ritt, and the cast of characters includes Paul Newman as the bandit, Laurence Harvey as the husband, Claire Bloom, as the wife. In the frame, Edward G. Robinson plays the role of the con man/thief and William Shatner (Capt Kirk of Star Trek fame) is the preacher. Unfortunately, I've been unable so far to find a copy of this film on DVD. It would be fascinating to see what Hollywood did with this gem by Kurosawa.
The core of the film's story is based on Akutagawa's short story, "The Grove" (aka "The Cedar Grove," "The Willow Grove," "In a Grove," or "The Bamboo Grove"). The film's title comes from another short story by Akutagawa, "Rashomon," which provides the setting for the film's frame of the three men telling the story in an abandoned town gate. The gate does exist, according to all accounts that I've read.
In a collection of Akutagawa's short stories, Rashomon and 17 Other Stories, Jay Rubin, who translated the stories and provided notes for them, says that Akutagawa's inspiration for "The Grove" and for "Rashomon" came from tales from the 12th century. I'm presently searching for those now.
Rubin, however, goes on to say that another source for "The Grove" might be a short story by Ambrose Bierce, of whom Akutagawa was an enthusiastic supporter. This story, "The Moonlit Road," I was able to find on the internet.
Bierce's story is told in the form of separate statements by each of the three--the Son, the Father, and the Mother, whose tale had to be told through a medium since she had been murdered.
The commonalities between Bierce's tale and Akutagawa's are twofold. First, the format is the same as both tell the story in the form of separate statements by various individuals involved in the incident. There is no interplay among those making the statements. Secondly, the last statement in both stories has to be told through a medium or shaman (in the Japanese version) because the individual is dead at the time of the telling of the story. It is this person's death that is the mystery that is to be resolved by the various statements.
I don't know, just now, the importance of Bierce's tale, "The Moonlit Road," for Akutagawa's story, but I'm curious enough to attempt to find the 12th century source for "The Grove." Perhaps that might provide some clues. Besides, it's always interesting to read the source for a particular work and see just what the later author did with the original material.
Rashomon is a great film, and I recommend it highly. The short stories are also quite good, both Akutagawa's and Bierce's.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)