For me, my 20s were like climbing Mount Fuji
with a heavy load on my back, huffing and puffing.
It felt like I was climbing,
and the heavy load was everyone's masterpieces.
Kurosawa, Kobayashi,
Kinoshita, Kon Ichikawa.
I met them all,
so my 20s were a great period for me.
It was the Golden Age of Japanese cinema.
At that time, Toho, the major studio,
had its golden child in Akira Kurosawa.
Daiei had its golden child in Mizoguchi.
Shochiku had Yasujiro Ozu.
These directors, these golden children,
could make whatever they liked,
because the movie industry was doing great.
Back then, a movie star
took on one type of signature character
and didn't often venture out to play different types of characters.
Of course, coming from a theater background,
I felt the ability to do different roles was the sign of a pro.
I was given the script to read when I was asked to play the part.
Of course, it's a perfect script
by Shinobu Hashimoto.
The script was wonderful,
but I wasn't sure if I was right to play Hanshiro Tsugumo.
First, there was the age problem.
I was 30 at the time, whereas Hanshiro Tsugumo was 50.
I felt that this penniless ronin,
this image I had of Hanshiro Tsugumo, really seemed like a Mifune role.
I was really unsure
whether a 30-year-old like me could really play this role.
The dialogue in Hashimoto's script
is, of course, written for a period piece.
It's written differently from a modern piece.
The lines themselves are written
in the style of "narrative art," as we used to say,
the art of comedic or public storytelling.
The entire tone was in the style of the classical period.
As far as period drama,
when Japanese cinema started doing period pieces,
they used traditional Kabuki theater lines.
When all is said and done,
our lives are like houses built on foundations of sand.
One strong wind and all is gone.
Seppuku also has a slight Kabuki style.
It was a challenge to make the Kabuki-like lines sound
Iike the naturalistic speaking style used in film.
In daily conversation, you don't utter the final syllable of a word clearly.
But because this ronin, Hanshiro Tsugumo,
spoke in a stylized storytelling voice,
the words had to resonate from my belly.
It's a drama of dialogue.
This type of dialogue drama is rare in Japanese cinema,
where it's unusual to have that much talking.
I'd been performing on stage for a long time,
so the amount of talking involved didn't concern me.
In a way, I reveled in the challenge.
I thought it would be interesting to do that in a movie,
because movies are very realistic.
For example, in Ozu's films,
there are lines like, "Hey there, how's your daughter doing?"
"Huh? My daughter? I don't know what she's up to."
There are lines like that. That's the great thing about Ozu.
Naruse's the same way.
The dialogue is structured just like everyday conversation.
So a stylized, storytelling manner of delivery
was rarely called for in Japanese cinema.
But cutting my belly open does not in itself
ensure smooth passage to the netherworld.
I need someone to expeditiously strike off my head -
a swordsman of reliable skill.
Kobayashi never told me I was good.
Not once.
He said, "Do as you like."
I remember him always letting me do as I wanted.
All he'd say was, "Ready, action!" at the beginning.
He'd say "cut" at the end, but he'd never say "good."
On top of that, he was very persistent.
He wasn't one to demand quick results.
He would wait patiently.
There we were in the sand garden.
We sat there for almost a month, kneeling in the seiza position.
You have to do seiza to be in period drama.
You just can't avoid it.
Back in the old days,
actors in period dramas would kneel all day on the wooden floor
so their legs wouldn't go numb from lack of circulation.
The training was really something.
Perhaps your retainers
will find some small point or two worth remembering
among my otherwise useless ramblings.
"What befalls others today may be your own fate tomorrow"?
Another interesting part was interacting with Mikuni.
From where Mikuni was to where I sat in the courtyard -
Let's see.
It must have been over 30 feet. Maybe more.
Being a theater actor, I'd make my voice carry for long shots.
But Mikuni wouldn't make his voice reach me.
If I said I couldn't hear,
he'd say, "Look, this is a movie. There's a microphone.
There's no need to shout."
I'd reply, "Maybe for a close-up, but this is a long shot."
And so we'd argue.
But Mikuni was my senior by many years.
We weren't fighting. We were just debating about acting.
I guess it's okay to talk about it now.
Kobayashi saw all this and said,
"Debate until you've resolved it," and stopped filming for three days.
Filming stopped.
He let us argue until we understood each other's position.
The set was built like this.
A courtyard surrounded by a gallery. It was open like this here.
The camera shot from this angle.
Almost the entire courtyard scene was taken from this side of my face.
Miyajima, the cameraman, said,
"l filmed your face for four years
on The Human Condition.
I'm tired of filming your face.
What angle should l film you from this time?
This time I'll shoot you entirely from the right."
But I realized the set only allowed filming from the right,
not the left.
So of course it had to be the right side for all close-ups.
In Seppuku we used real swords, and it was real swordplay.
Of course, it was forbidden,
so I probably shouldn't say this, but back then everyone used real blades.
Tamba was full of self-confidence
when it came to swordplay.
He was really confident.
I'd say, "This is dangerous." "Don't worry," he'd say.
"Just duck and you'll be fine."
I'd say, "It's a real blade! I'm scared!"
But that guy knew fencing.
He also spoke English very well. Tamba was good at everything.
This shape came about by chance.
An opponent would come from there, and another from over here.
If you feint here and feint there, it makes this shape.
This was really interesting.
And if you swing the blades out like this, you cut your opponent.
When you go right from defense to offense,
this shape is natural. It's called X-swords or something.
We gave it a name later.
I didn't attach much importance
to the sword fight scene.
Since we used real blades...
the speed of the action wasn't on a par with what's seen in other films.
The speed of Mifune's sword in Sanjuro -
In one breath he'd cut down a dozen men.
Compared to that, the sword fighting in Seppuku
wasn't about showing off swordplay.
It was about showing the strength and weight of the real blade.
I think that's what it was about.
However, aside from the swordplay at the very end,
it's a very quiet drama.
Actually, when it was shown at Cannes,
the director, my deceased wife
and myself
all wore Japanese kimonos.
When the seppuku with the bamboo sword was shown at Cannes,
European women cried out, "Ahh!" and fainted.
We broke out in a cold sweat, thinking we were done for.
But someone said, "It was so wonderful!"
It was expected to win the Palme d' Or hands-down.
We were competing with Visconti's The Leopard,
and we lost.
But at the party afterwards -
Since we did win the Special Jury Prize,
the leader of the Shochiku delegation gave a toast.
Visconti was in a group nearby,
celebrating the Palme d' Or for The Leopard.
So everyone was there celebrating
when someone on our side said,
"Look, of the three allies - ltaly, Germany, and Japan -
Italy was the first to surrender."
Some nonsense like that.
We were sorry not to receive the Palme d' Or.
However, The Leopard was also really something,
so I guess it was no surprise.
But after making that at age 30 -
Japanese cinema gradually declined when I passed 30.
After I finished Seppuku when I was 30...
cinema gradually became boring.
I had to kneel in the seiza position all day
and use real blades in sword fights, feeling a certain degree of danger.
It was physically demanding,
but mentally it was a lot of fun, even though it was a tragedy.
I really enjoyed it.