It was while working with Kurosawa on Seven Samurai
that I first planned to do a story on a day in the life of a samurai.
The samurai wakes up, washes his face, shaves his crown,
has his hair dressed, pays his respects to his ancestors,
eats breakfast, gets dressed,
and sets out for the castle, accompanied by his retainers.
Before getting to the castle, he makes a minor mistake,
so he goes home and commits seppuku in the garden.
That's the story I wanted to do with Kurosawa.
A day in the life of a samurai.
I really liked the story,
because I had a deep interest in seppuku and wanted to know how they did it.
Seppuku is slitting the abdomen, either in a straight line or in a crosscut.
The plain cut is made by cutting your abdomen like this.
The crosscut isn't done by cutting here and then here,
because the intestines would fall out.
The crosscut is done by cutting and then turning like this,
curving around and coming up - that's one technique.
You cut and then extend your neck for the coup de gr?ce,
delivered from behind by your second.
From then on, seppuku was buried in the back of my mind.
So, when I read Takiguchi's story,
I thought of the story about seppuku I'd always wanted to do.
I thought his story might do the trick.
But it's so grim.
I wasn't sure how to make it work, and I shelved the idea again.
Then, at the 1 961 Cannes Film Festival,
I was looking out to sea when I turned and saw a poster.
It was for The Devil and the Nun, by the Polish director Kawalerowicz.
The poster was long and narrow.
We didn't have posters like it in Japan. I found it new and refreshing.
"Wait a minute," I thought.
"I've always wanted to do a story about seppuku.
If I made my story on seppuku and showed it at Cannes...
what would the poster look like?"
I looked out to sea,
and an image of a solitary seated samurai popped into my mind.
"That's how to do it. I can do that," I thought.
When I returned from Cannes, I started writing right away.
I imagined one of Kurosawa's seven samurai
as if he'd been jailed and then released.
I thought, "When that samurai gets out and is forced to commit seppuku,
he'll be angry and spiteful, and he'll rant and rave."
I thought it would be perfect for a movie.
I just had to write about this samurai's angry ranting at his seppuku ceremony.
So I went home and began to write.
For one of my screenplays, it was written quickly and simply.
I finished it in 11 days.
Who can fathom the depths of another man's heart?
Thanks to the shogunate's ruthless policy of wiping out the provincial lords,
countless samurai lost their masters
and were cast out to wander the depths of hell.
How can those who never wanted for food or clothing understand their misery?
If I had set out to criticize feudalism,
I don't think Seppuku could have been made.
It's about the angry demeanor of a ronin
at his seppuku ceremony.
Without that as my focal point, the film couldn't have been made.
Speaking of theme, those of us who make movies
feel differently from those who watch them.
Seppuku wasn't labeled a critique of authority until after it was made.
If you look at it as I did when writing it, the theme's very concise.
A samurai's bitter ranting at his seppuku ceremony - that's it.
It's very simple,
but it took some time to boil it down to something that simple.
Motome Chijiiwa...
was a man of some acquaintance to me.
I often hear it said that, with so many flashbacks,
it was coldly calculated, but it wasn't calculated at all.
But I truly believe
it isn't a flashback
if it moves in the direction of the drama.
In the case of Hayato Yazaki...
it was six days ago.
Screenwriters generally hate flashbacks, and so do directors.
They rarely give good results - just the opposite.
They're despised because they don't move forward, just backward.
That's the type of cinematic technique they are.
So we all hate them. No one wants them.
But I say if they advance the plot,
you can't call them flashbacks.
Then you can use as many as you like.
The main title was pared down.
Originally, it was Seppuku: The Journal of the Iyi Clan.
Kobayashi cut it down to just Seppuku.
The title caused quite a stir at Shochiku.
In those days, when an outside call came in,
they would say, "This is such-and-such Shochiku,"
filling in the name of their latest release.
No one wanted to say what sounded like, "This is Suicide Productions."
They begged to change it.
Kobayashi got angry and absolutely refused.
In the end they said, "Hello, Seppuku Shochiku."
In my experience, Kobayashi was the most persistent,
much more so than Kurosawa.
He was a man of amazing persistence.
He never cut corners and never gave in.
The producer was fed up,
but Kobayashi wouldn't take no for an answer.
He'd say, "lf I don't do it this way, it won't come together in my mind."
He was that uncompromising.
It was shot in Kyoto,
so I only went once.
They did two takes a day - never three.
He redid the lighting and everything from zero every time,
so it was a major production.
Tetsuro Tamba's still upset about it today.
He still talks about "that jerk Kobayashi," and the duel.
Kobayashi would say, "Today's too cloudy," and just go back to Tokyo.
If the weather was bad, it was off.
Even if it was clear, he was off.
He made them wait in Kyoto over a week
because he couldn't get the right clouds.
Tamba said he'd never met such a selfish jerk.
Seppuku was Nakadai at his very best.
And I think Nakadai himself as an actor
would have to say his acting really made the movie.
He really got into the role of Hanshiro Tsugumo.
That's why he was able to expertly play a character much older than himself.
Actors can't just inhabit a role like that simply because they want to.
But he really got into Hanshiro Tsugumo. It was a wonder to see.
When the movie was finished,
someone said something really insightful about it.
He said he'd seen Seppuku, so I asked him what he thought.
He said it was amazing.
He said that I never backed down an inch,
that the cameraman, Miyajima, never backed down either,
and that Kobayashi, above both of us, likewise never gave in,
and that the movie seemed to capture the feverish struggle of our three wills.
I laughed,
but afterwards I thought, "That's exactly the type of movie it is."
It was shown on TV about 1 0 years ago.
I watched it with my daughter,
seeing it for the first time after so many years.
I thought it wasn't too bad.
When it ended, my daughter said,
"Wow, Dad, you used to be pretty smart."