Often imitated but the original is still the best
Hollywood remade the 7 Samurai and called it the Magnificent 7. This was also a good film but the original is still the best. One can learn a lot about Japanese culture by watching it. The villagers also go to the village elder for advice. The hired Samurai village protectors count the number of bandits and assume that they have to fight every last one. They know that none of them will run away, even if the face certain defeat. I guess there is even honor amongst thieves. The love story only constitutes a few scenes, but the class differences between a farmer girl and a samurai determine the end result. Another lesson, love doesn't conquer all and in fact such a union will result in tragedy and unhappiness. Of course the craftsmenship of the film itself is stellar.

Best Samurai Film ... No Epic ever.
Yea I know what your thinking and yea this DVD is Pricey (Seven Samurai - 3 Disc Remastered Edition Criterion Collection). But The transfer is great, the special features are sweet, and I believe this is the best possible version of Kurosawa's most influential / exciting film ever. If you are new to Kurosawa this film is a perfect treat to cut your teeth on. Great story, characters, and Plot combined with excellent cinematography add up to one excellent buy.

A Kurosawa Masterpiece
Akira Kurosawa has directed some genuinely great movies, such as "Rashomon," "Ran," and "Kagemusha." Yet another classic is his "Seven Samurai," from which the American movie, "The Magnificent Seven," was inspired.

This movie begins with a bleak sky; the movie is shot in black and white, giving it grittiness and a rather foreboding atmosphere as filmed. Weather, as in other Kurosawa movies, is an important element. As with "Rashomon," heavy rain falls at a number of critical points in the movie. There are other exquisite moments. For example, as the marauders/bandits examine the village that they plan to plunder once the crops are harvested, the villagers are crying out in terror at the sight of the band of forty. With that scene of terror is juxtaposed birds singing. The pairing of terror with bird song is oddly affecting and effective. And the sound track. . . . "The Magnificent Seven," as we all know, had a powerful stirring sound track, featuring the well known theme. The sound track here is less overtly powerful, but no less supportive of the movie. At times, in certain scenes, the music is almost hypnotic.

The plot itself? After the villagers realize that the bandits will return in the future as their crops are harvested, they go to the village elder, "Granddad." The stooped old man suggests a simple strategy: find Samurai to protect the village and pay them with rice, three meals per day. That would be all. . . . In the historical context laid out by the movie, many Samurai were destitute and had little. Several villagers went into a nearby city to see about recruiting warriors to protect them. After seeing a clever and courageous (and competent) Samurai recue a child, they approach Kambei (played, I think, by Takashi Shimura). Rice is enough compensation for him to agree to raise a force of seven, the minimum number that he thinks could successfully repel an invasion force of forty brigands. The heart of the movie is his recruitment of seven Samurai, including Toshiro Mifune as a boastful and slightly crazed would-be Samurai and other characters.

The centerpiece of the movie is the bonds developed among the seven Samurai and the "at a distance" relationship with many villagers. Villagers see the Samurai is not necessarily a lot different from the bandits, in terms of their fear of them. Nonetheless, the Samurai train the villagers for the inevitable battle with the bandits. The climactic scenes demonstrate the fury of battle, the courage of plain villagers, and the skills of the Samurai.

This is a long movie (almost three hours) and one must really watch the whole thing to appreciate it. A few paragraphs of prose cannot really capture the spirit and essence of this masterpiece. This movie was released in the mid-1950s; it still holds up well today.

The definitive way to view the definitive Samurai film.
Looking at Amazon's reviews, I think I've seen some crossover between a few versions of the Criterion Collection versions of this movie, so I'll cover the two most well-known together. The movie itself is beyond words in terms of everything from camerawork, to story, to lasting impact- it's not if you should buy this film, but what version to get.

The 2-disc version seen elsewhere: I originally got this version via Netflix, and it contains the film on a good but not earth-shattering quality, on one disc. The second is special features. Michael Jeck's commentary is included, and personally, I think it is *the* definitive commentary. Whether you're a film student or not, Jeck's commentary gives you the deepest possible insight into the director and his control of the film, down to nearly frame-by-frame analysis of the more complex shots. Jeck will make you want to view certain parts of the film in slow motion, and if you do, you're rewarded with extra detail that will completely amaze you.

The 3-disc version I'm reviewing now: Remember the above part about an earth-shattering quality? We have that here. The 3-disc version contains a completely superior picture and sound quality that will blow you away. This does split the movie onto two discs, but the original was made with an intermission anyway, so this is certainly acceptable. You also get not only Jeck's commentary, but even an extra commentary, as well as an art book and some extra features. This version is worth purchasing for the superior movie quality alone, but the extra materials make the transition even sweeter.

Get this movie now, if you don't have it already. When you do, get the 3-disc Criterion version. Even if you have the 2-disc version, you owe it to yourself to upgrade today and appreciate this film to the maximum.

Thrilling and powerful. Hasn't aged a day.
What can I tell you about "Seven Samurai" that you haven't already heard? I was thinking recently about why it is that, although the dialogue in the film mostly functions to advance the plot, and the later scenes are mostly devoted to the mechanics of battle, nonetheless every one of the characters is vibrant and alive, and instantly wins one's trust and sympathy. The answer, I think, lies in gestures and facial expressions. The faces of the samurai embody distinct and memorable character types, and their mannerisms, rather than their words, serve to bring out details of their personality.

Katsushiro, the young samurai, has few if any "introspective" lines, but he's the most expressive depiction of the "naive youth" archetype that I have ever seen, in any film. The performance captures countless lifelike details -- like how he doesn't know what to do when Shino comes on to him, and how later he stands around looking shell-shocked. Or, for instance, how, when he sees Kikuchiyo brooding outside, he runs up to him with a boyish smile, evidently used to viewing Kikuchiyo as the jester of the group, and then suddenly looks bewildered when he sees that Kikuchiyo is not in the best of moods. Or his embarrassment when he throws the coins at Yohei and Rikichi in the inn and sees their obeisance. Or his amazement when he finally kills a bandit in battle, or his explosion of grief at the battle's end.

Kikuchiyo, too, is always interesting to watch. I don't have to point out his passionate nature, but it's interesting how the film puts in little details that set him apart from the samurai. The scene where he unsuccessfully tries to ride Yohei's horse is very funny, but it also underscores the fact that the other samurai have been trained to ride from birth, and Kikuchiyo's most valiant efforts just aren't enough to bridge the gulf between them. He frequently misinterprets "what it means to be a samurai," and can't understand what exactly he's missing. He tops Kyuzo's feat by stealing one of the bandits' guns and then fearlessly taunting them, and is surprised when Kambei scolds him. The distinction, of course, is that Kyuzo performed heroic deeds during his free time, whereas Kikuchiyo abandoned his post, but the latter doesn't get it.

Kyuzo himself is an iconic figure. The best scene in the entire film (I have seen it cause a standing ovation in a theatre) is when he returns in the morning with the stolen gun and modestly sits down to sleep. Katsushiro praises him to the skies, and after he prances away, there is a remarkable expression on Kyuzo's face, a bit flattered and embarrassed, and also empathetic to Katsushiro's youth. And Kyuzo's absolutely detached calm, as he sits by a tree and picks flowers while he waits for the bandits to arrive, is another timeless image.

Then there's Gorobei, who has almost no lines at all, but who instantly wins one over with his good-natured grin. He's the guy who immediately sees through Kambei's "trap" in the inn, and calls from outside, "Please, no jokes!" He is rarely in the spotlight, but he seems to be closer to Kambei in character than the others. And it's funny that he's so easily amused by Heihachi -- the way he cracks up at the latter's jokes is funnier than the jokes themselves.

Kambei, as the leader who holds the group together and never loses his cool, and also has most of the "meaningful" lines, has probably been extensively analyzed already. But aside from his personal appeal, his methodical approach to strategy is captivating, because each of his moves looks so logical and well-thought-out, like something one ought to do in that situation, not at all like a mere plot point. One of the best conversations occurs when he asks Gorobei, "How would you attack this village?" A professional approach, forsooth.

The film's power of suggestion extends to the setting itself. Kurosawa firmly insists on the distance between samurai and peasants. In the final scene with Shino, Rikichi's statements about the power of love fall on deaf ears, as they should. The villagers turn and leave, and Kambei decides not to intervene. This resolution, gloomy mainly due to the sense of inevitability that it creates, is admirably true to life. Also notable, and very understated, is the fact that all casualties among the samurai are due to guns. Perhaps this is a subtle way of suggesting that their era is already almost over, and even the utmost skill won't help them in modern war.

Everyone has already commented on the visual aspects of the film, but the imagery is unforgettable. There's a horrifying image early on when the farmers' rice is stolen in the inn, and Yohei tries to pick up fallen grains one by one. And the most indelible sight is that of the chaotic, vicious final battle in the rain and mud. Kambei's meticulous planning, after holding out for so long, finally gives way to a total mess, a jumble of horses and people in which the samurai accomplish amazing martial feats in every shot, but the shots move so quickly that one doesn't have time to appreciate them.

This is one of the few truly flawless films in existence. It is three and a half hours long, but the length is hardly noticeable. The battles are gripping. But aside from the masterful choreography and technical innovation, the characters just come to life so vividly! It's difficult to name another film where such thorough characterization would be implied through such indirect means. It belongs in any film collection.