Okay so, I forget how… orrr… never knew how… to post a youtube video in my blog. But here is the link:
I hope it works!
It was almost as if in nature, he was bigger than a mere man. He towered above mountains, he even fit with them like a piece in a puzzle. I felt as though that was not only a metaphor for how he was going to fit in the progression of the plot, but also his part in nature. He decided his direction based on the throwing of a stick, whose ultimate path is affected by wind, a natural occurrence. In the scene in the temple, he uses the wind to blow the leaf so that he can bring his skills back up to par before he returns to the town to face the remaining family. I felt as though there was a reoccurring sense that he was “one,” I guess, with nature. In nature, he does fit—he fits with the mountains, the wind shows him where to go and aids in his recovery. In the town, however, the man-made structure, he encounters problems. He faces adversity. He is tested, and although he triumphs, it isn’t always easy. I think that kid of related to the mythical theme that surrounded his character. It reminded me Greek mythology, where they had Gods of the natural world. Not that Sanjuro is necessarily a God in the natural world, but it kind of related like that. How he didn’t quite fit in the man made world, he fit much better in nature.
The presentation of him as a type of mythological God-like being was enhanced by the shots Kurosawa did sometimes from close to ground-level, looking up at Sanjuro. That creates an almost messianic image, where he is so large. It reminded me of Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will. She did the same type of imagery with Hitler, taking shots from near ground level to make him look like an almost larger than life figure. I found a picture example from Triumph of the Will.
I just thought that was interesting, mostly because it is so effective. (I can honestly say I never thought I’d be adding a picture of Hitler to my blog.) It is also even more messianic because of the clouds in the background of Hitler. Kind of creepy, right? I found an image of Sanjuro, too, although it’s not the best illustration of what I’m talking about, I thought I’d add it because it’s the best I could find at the moment.
I also saw a lot of similarities between The Glass Key and Yojimbo. Although there was that one huge difference: no Paul. There was a strong relationship between the old man (I suppose the bartender?) and Sanjuro, though. I found that to be the closest Ned/Paul-like relationship in the movie. The scene in which Sanjuro is being beaten up, though, was almost exactly like The Glass Key. The ending was similar in some ways, too—we didn’t see the town being rebuilt, we didn’t see how everyone ended up, or where Sanjuro was going, it just kind of ended.
I think that’s all I have about Yojimbo right now, except that I really did enjoy it. I might think of some more later!
By the way, does anyone know why I’m getting those huge massive gaps after my pictures? I’ve messed around with it but it doesn’t seem to be helping — I might have actually worsened it. Whoops!
]]>In class one of the first things we talked about was the hard boiled detective vs. the Sherlock Holmes-esque detective style. It became fairly clear that Ned Beaumont was not much like Sherlock, and I think that might be one of the reasons I found the book to be so interesting. Putting my knowledge of the movie completely aside, when I was reading the book, I don’t ever think I had that feeling in the back of my mind that Ned Beaumont would definitely solve the crime. His gambling addiction, coupled with a few other characteristics I witnessed about him, always left me with a slight sense of “wow, maybe he won’t be able to do it.” I don’t think that element is necessarily present in most crime novels, and I’ve read quite a few of them. There always seems to be some underlying meaning to solving the crime that drives the protagonist detective not to rest until the case is solved. In other detective-esque novels I felt like nothing other than the detective actually being killed by another character would stop him (or her) from solving the case. With Ned Beaumont, he actually tries to kill himself. He takes Jeff’s beating without giving up information on Paul, however the act of trying to end his own life kind of signified to me that finding out who killed Taylor Henry wasn’t exactly the driving force behind his actions. I’m finding it kind of hard to express my thought process on that issue, I hope it made sense.
I thought the book was fairly unique in many ways. I have to respect any book that has me caring about a protagonist that I really know very little about. I thought the use of his full name was a pretty brilliant way to keep Ned Beaumont at a distance. Other characters were called by their first or last names, or in the case of Opal, by a nickname. I think the use of Ned’s full name all the time provided an element of formality and detachment. Coupled with the Conradian (is that even a word?) style of Hammett’s writing, not really knowing what the characters are thinking and feeling, kept us at arms length from even the protagonist. Yet, Hammett’s writing style was still able to get me to care about Ned Beaumont, as well as Paul Madvig. I think that’s an awesome thing, and I have great respect for Hammett’s writing because of that.
I have much more to say regarding the book as well as the movie, unfortunately I have currently run out of time… I will post again later, though!
]]>There was a similar code on Vaudeville performers during the late 19th/early 20th century. Unacceptable content was referred to as “blue material.” (The envelopes given to the actors outlining new regulations or violations were sealed in blue envelopes.) I guess I just kind of found it interesting that similar campaigns for family-friendly entertainment existed in both industries. I actually remembered the website that our theatre class used most as a sort of textbook resource, and I found this example of a warning that was posted backstage in producers Keith and Albee’s theatres:
“Don’t say “slob” or “son of a gun” or “hully gee*” on the stage unless you want to be canceled peremptorily. Do not address anyone in the audience in any manner. If you do not have the ability to entertain Mr. Keith’s audience with risk of offending them, do the best you can. Lack of talent will be less open to censure than would be an insult to a patron. If you are in doubt as to the character of your act consult the local manager before you go on stage, for if you are guilty of uttering anything sacrilegious or even suggestive you will be immediately closed and will never again be allowed in a theatre where Mr. Keith is in authority.”
It’s kind of funny to read a statement like that today when you think about the plethora of offensive language that is so common in many of the movies we love. “Blue material,” like the Hays Code, wasn’t actually law, but it’s clear that not abiding by either would be a not so stellar career move. Well, I believe that’s all for my random Vaudeville lesson for the day– and to think, I thought I’d never use that information again! Hope someone (other than myself) found it interesting!
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